Nature Doesn't Ask A Tree To Bloom In September

September is here and as summer (life) continues to unwind, I'm finding myself more and more drawn to this new lifestyle of motherhood. And it feels like something far greater than myself. While I know a huge part of it is the big responsibility of raising a little boy, I also feel myself completely open and willing to step into the unknown.

With that, I find myself happiest when I'm home. I feel most proud when my body is in full function: harvesting my rather large garden, stirring huge bowls of dough while also holding a 20+ pound baby on my hip, stacking wood, making meals, getting dirty, moving my body and creating something with my own two hands.

Ryan and I find ourselves dreaming about the future. Expanding ourselves for something wildly aligned with nature. From filling the freezer to transplanting our perennials and setting up our greenhouse, each step continues to bring us newer versions of ourselves; newer versions of this "home" we are creating together.

And lately, my most valuable guide has been nature. I find myself constantly asking: "how does the weather outside coincide with the weather inside of me?" There is something deeply grounding about paying attention to the seasons instead of constantly trying to override them. This awareness is something I've been exploring through Ayurveda. Johns Hopkins describes Ayurveda as a whole-body system of medicine that began in India more than 3,000 years ago, with Ayurveda meaning "the study of life."

The study of life.

I love that.

Because perhaps wellness isn't about constantly trying to become something new. Perhaps it's about learning how to listen to what life is already asking of us. And right now, life is asking me to slow down.

So, this fall, I'm taking a break from teaching my regular classes. Not because I've stopped loving yoga or tai chi. Not because I've stopped believing in the power of movement, community, or the practices I've spend years learning and sharing. But because this season of life is full.

Harvest season is here. Cross country coaching is in full swing. There is wood to gather, food to preserve, gardens to clean up, perennials to transplant, a greenhouse to prepare, a home to tend to and of course, all of the beautiful chaos and fun that comes with fall. And then there is Eli. There is motherhood. There is us. There is this little piece of land and this life we are slowly building upon it.

I'm calling this a "break" but if I'm being honest, I'm also hoping it becomes a season of clarity. I want to give myself enough space to discover what comes next without forcing an answer. Maybe it's teaching yoga and tai chi again. Maybe it's building the WOW community and creating something bigger than myself. Maybe it's something I haven't even imagined yet. Or maybe, just maybe, its settling more deeply into the life I already have and learning how to capitalize on what is right in front of me: HOME.

The last possibility feels the most comfortable to say out loud. And maybe that tells me something. For so long, I've thought about what I could build. What I could create. What I could offer. What the next program, class, business idea, or community could look like. But there is a different kind of fulfillment in realizing that perhaps I don't need to keep reaching outward. Perhaps I can reach inward. Into my family. Into my land. Into my body. Into the work of creating a life that feels good to actually live. I don't know where the line will be drawn. And for once, I'm okay with that.

I'm going to let this season teach me. I'm going to watch the leaves change. listen to the weather, work with my hands, move my body, raise my son, coach my runners, fill my pantry, gather around the fire, and pay attention. Because nature doesn't ask a tree to bloom in September. It doesn't shame the garden for dying back. It doesn't tell the leaves they should stay green a little longer. It simply responds to the season it is in. Maybe that is the practice I need most right now. To stop asking, "What should I be doing next?" And start asking, "What season am I in?"

So, here's to September.

To harvest.

To movement.

To motherhood.

To home.

And to whatever comes next.

I'll let the universe help me draw the line.

Eat, Sleep, Move, Be Well,

Ari 🌞❤️