Pivot, don’t quit
Audio Version:
January can feel like such a tender month, can’t it? We step into it carrying fresh hopes, new practices, quiet promises we’ve made to ourselves in the dark of winter. Maybe you felt that too, an inner nudge that said, This year, something needs to shift. I’m ready to live a little differently.
And then real life rushed back in. The rest practice you meant to do each day slipped off the calendar. The walks you planned got postponed “just for today.” The boundary you set so carefully blurred in one tired conversation. Before you knew it, that bright new beginning felt far away, and you might have wondered, Did I already mess this up?
If any part of that feels familiar, you’re in the right place. You’re not alone, and nothing is ruined.
Today I laid down to do my rest practice for the first time in four days. I’m on vacation, celebrating my Mom’s 97th birthday, and somewhere between the joy of being with her and the fullness of life, my deep rest practice slipped away.
Four days without practice. And here’s what matters: I came back. I returned to my breath and to the practice that holds me.
This is the real practice, not perfection, but the gentle returning. Again and again. The devotion lives right here, in this moment of beginning again.
But this morning, I had a different thought: What if the return is actually the practice?
Here’s what I’m learning in my actual, imperfect life: these milestone moments, when something inside me whispers, this isn’t working anymore, it’s time to change course, can get hijacked by a single stumble.
We are naturally drawn to the satisfaction of a perfect streak and flawless execution. However, the pursuit of perfection often becomes a barrier. My meditation teacher offered a crucial shift: neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to adapt, isn’t sustained by perfection, but by persistent effort.
Lasting transformation and new neural pathways form not from the absence of error, but from the simple act of returning to the practice after a stumble. The brain rewires because we consistently and patiently “come back,” which is far more effective than the unsustainable goal of an unbroken streak.
Every time I return, I’m building the muscle that matters most. Not the muscle of never falling. The muscle of getting back up.
That’s the one that carries us home.
So wherever you are right now—whether you practiced this morning or it’s been four days or four months—you have everything you need. Your practice is waiting. Your breath hasn’t gone anywhere. And the very next moment you choose to return, you’re already doing the work.
Not someday when you’re more disciplined. Not when life calms down. Right now. Right here. Imperfection and trying. That’s not just enough. That’s everything.
xo Sarah ~ By the sea
If you’re working with the pattern of beginning again and could use some support, my Brave Rest 40-Day Journey offers a gentle container for this practice.
