Monkey Mind and Grace in Practice 🪞
Reflective journal — YTT week ___
We were assigned the homework of observing three yoga classes over the next month, in addition to our current requirement of taking two one-hour yoga flow classes per week throughout YTT.
Immediately, I feel my monkey brain—what I call my lesser-evolved, old thought patterns when they arise/kick in. My perfectionism and OCD tendencies start running amok, and I have a moment of internal panic.
“Oh no, how the hell am I going to fit that into my already strained routine?!”
I already had to ask for an exception: one in-person class per week and one permitted to be taken online since my significant other works out of town Monday through Friday.
Pretty quickly, though, I acknowledge that my survival mind is just trying to protect me from a perceived harmful future threat to my peace. I pause, notice the thought, and let it pass. I remind myself that I am safe and that things always have a way of working out.
Then I remember: my SO is now going to be off on Mondays and may soon not be traveling as much. There is plenty of time in my week to manage what needs to be managed. And I calm.
Why Meditation Matters
This moment reminds me why my meditation practice is so vital. It allows me to observe my thoughts and release the ones that do not serve me.
Without this discipline, I know I would have continued to spiral—worry, fear, and overwhelm taking the driver’s seat. That mental storm would have followed me home, where I’d struggle to be fully present with my family. My stress might have leaked into small moments, leading to emotional dumping, guilt, and eventually, instability in connection.
This is how unobserved thoughts ripple through our lives and into the people we love most.
I’m grateful for my continued growth—and my willingness to keep growing. Reflection allows me to see how far I’ve come, and that in itself is a gift.
Becoming the Observer
Yesterday, I attended a yoga flow class strictly for the purpose of observation and note-taking for the first time. It was surprisingly challenging to sit still and not join in the physical practice (the teacher even kindly invited me to move if I wanted).
But I wanted to challenge myself to just observe—to sit in stillness and learn.
I was humbled by the teacher’s ability to connect so naturally with her students, encouraging them to listen deeply to their own bodies. She was clear, concise, and kind. Her language struck me in particular phrases like:
“See if you can...”
“Maybe today you...”
“Make it yours.”
and my favorite, “Wherever you are, be okay.”
In those words, I recognized the kind of yoga teacher I aspire to be. She wasn’t performing; she was guiding. There was no ego, no pretense—just presence and purpose.
Each student responded to that energy, flowing at their own pace and honoring their own needs. Watching that was profound.
Now, as I prepare for my next two class observations, I feel eager and inspired—curious about what else I’ll discover and how I’ll continue to grow on this journey called yoga.
✨ Closing Reflection:
Every time I pause long enough to observe my mind, I remember that awareness itself is progress. Growth doesn’t always come through effort—it often comes through grace.
