I’ve been thinking about space.
How we make it, protect it, and remember it in a life that’s already full.

Full with things we love.
Full with responsibility.
Full with emotion, movement, meals, car rides, and text messages.

Some days it’s a lot to hold.

Postpartum Presence

That’s where I was when I stepped into a postpartum class recently.
And honestly, the room felt the same.

We started talking—really talking—and it felt like this big collective exhale.
Everyone was carrying so much.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic—just honest, grounded, and real.

Busy mornings.
Traffic.
Interrupted sleep.
Relationships shifting.
Schedules packed.

And also, a longing for space that wasn’t “extra time” to get something else done.
A space to just be.

The Theme: Make Space for Your Breath

I had already planned the class around the theme:
Make space for your breath.

And it landed.

This is one of the reasons I love teaching postpartum yoga so much.

The walls drop.
There’s no pretending to have it all together.
The need for support is real.
The tenderness is raw.

And there’s this honest, beautiful connection that forms when we stop trying to fix anything and just allow ourselves to be in it—together.

Movement as Conversation

We moved gently, intuitively—
Familiar shapes, simple tools like straps and blocks, shared rhythms.

The focus was on presence—on feeling what was there, and allowing space to unfold with the breath.

There was this natural ebb and flow of conversation, movement, pausing.
It reminded me of those moments when you're hands are busy with something simple—
folding laundry, chopping vegetables, or working on a project —
and a real, honest conversation just unfolds.

The kind that wasn’t planned, but feels grounding and true.

Holding the Space

And we didn’t stop at creating space—
we explored how to hold it.

Because once you’ve made room, there’s this need to support that room.

To build a container where energy stays rather than flying off to everywhere else.

One that brings steadiness and shape—
something we can move within and return to.

Working with the Elements

That’s where the elements came in:

🌍 Earth

Structure, form, and strength.
We practiced drawing into the midline, feeling the deep support of the ground beneath us, and remembering that we’re held.
The container matters.

💧 Water

Soft, wave-like movements, spirals, and an invitation to allow motion to emerge from inside—fluid and intuitive.

🔥 Fire

Our core connection.
Drawing the low belly inward, activating the center, and sending energy down into the earth.

Fire held our power.
And in seasons where everything feels unfamiliar or new—like early parenthood—that power can feel elusive.
Especially when our core has undergone such big changes.

This part of the practice was about slowly rebuilding from within.

🌬 Air

Breath, exhale, dreaming, imagination, and possibility.
Air reminded us of the power of possibility, generosity, and gratitude. The magic that arose because we gathered together and shared our wisdom, even when we felt like we were struggling. Air reminded us that we aren’t alone.

The Thermostat

Somewhere along the way, I shared an idea I learned in a parenting class:
Be a thermostat.

Hold a steady tone internally,
rather than adjusting to the environment around you.

This stayed with me—
a gentle way to stay connected to myself and offer steadiness to those around me.

A practice of nervous system care,
and a way of remembering who I am in the midst of it all.

Space Within

We moved.
We talked.
We let it be real.

And for a little while, there was space—tangible, breathable space.

A sense of room that existed not only in the air around us,
but within us too.

Space opens when we honor what’s here.
Breath deepens when we feel supported.
And connection grows in the presence of truth.

This conversation felt like quiet magic—
the kind you don’t know you need until you're in it.
And I could feel that I wasn’t the only one.
We all needed it.

Nothing needed fixing.
We didn’t have to pretend we had it all together.

Just by being in a circle of supportive souls,
we made space for what was real,
what was honest,
what was true.

And suddenly I realized I didn’t have to hold the space by myself. We could hold it together, mutually thermostatic.

And that’s the kind of space I want more of in my life.