Sitting in the unknown
Over the past few weeks I’ve found myself thinking & reflecting on family, uncertainty, and the practices that help us stay grounded when life feels anything but certain.
Recently my uncle Greg was diagnosed with a type of sarcoma in his calf muscle. After we found out about the initial diagnosis there was a six-day wait for further test results to determine whether the cancer had spread and what treatment options might be available. Those six days felt incredibly long!
It’s fascinating how quickly the mind rushes ahead into imagined futures. The body, meanwhile, often responds as though the worst-case scenario has already happened. Muscles tighten. Sleep becomes disrupted. Thoughts circle endlessly. The nervous system moves into protection mode.
It made me think about how often life asks us to sit in the unknown.
inty, and the practices that help us stay grounded when life feels anything but certain.
Recently my uncle Greg was diagnosed with a type of sarcoma in his calf muscle. After we found out about the initial diagnosis there was a six-day wait for further test results to determine whether the cancer had spread and what treatment options might be available. Those six days felt incredibly long!
It’s fascinating how quickly the mind rushes ahead into imagined futures. The body, meanwhile, often responds as though the worst-case scenario has already happened. Muscles tighten. Sleep becomes disrupted. Thoughts circle endlessly. The nervous system moves into protection mode.
It made me think about how often life asks us to sit in the unknown.
I’ve also been sitting with my own experience as a grandmother. Last Saturday, I was fortunate enough to see my grandson Noah for the first time in five months. Since his parents separated shortly after his first birthday, contact has been limited. Seeing him again was incredibly special. He’s grown so much in such a short time.
What this experience has taught me is the delicate balance between caring deeply and holding lightly.
There is grief in not having the relationships we wish for. There is sadness when circumstances are outside our control. Yet there is also freedom in softening our expectations and continuing to show up with an open heart whenever the opportunity arises.
On Thursday we received wonderful news that Greg’s tumour had not spread. On Saturday I spent precious time with Noah.
Neither outcome was something I could control.
Today I finally had a chance to speak with my Aunty Vicky, and hearing how they navigated those six days moved me deeply. Vicky learned to meditate with Maddy at Marou last year, and she told me, she and Greg have been sitting together for just five minutes each morning in meditation.
There was something so simple and beautiful about that. Not trying to solve the uncertainty. Not trying to think their way out of it. Just sitting together, breathing together, and meeting each day, as it was.
It reminded me that our practices aren’t something we just do when life is easy. They are there for the moments when we don’t know what comes next. The moments when we’re waiting for a phone call, a test result, an answer, or a door to open. Often it’s not the length of the practice that matters, but the willingness to return to it, again and again.
This is just within my immediate family I am sure all of you are moving through your own versions of life, of relationships, of uncertainty.
During the waiting, the worrying, and the uncertainty, we can come back to the breath, to the body, and to the people around us.
Lately I’ve been immersed in an advanced breathwork training with the wonderful Brooke Ellison. One of the things I’ve been most moved by is the understanding that breath is more than a tool for regulation. It is a bridge between the thinking mind and the feeling body. A direct pathway between head and heart.
Often we think resilience comes just from being strong or staying positive. What I’m learning is that resilience is something much simpler: the ability to stay connected to ourselves while life unfolds.
A few conscious breaths.
Awareness through movement.
Connecting with Community.
These small practices don’t remove life’s challenges, but they help us meet them with a little more capacity, a little more presence, and a little more grace.
Perhaps this is part of what many traditions speak about when they explore karma and dharma. We don’t get to choose the family we are born into, nor all of the circumstances that shape our lives. But we can choose how we respond. We can choose the people we gather around us when the big things happen. We can choose to seek support when we need it.
We’re not meant to do this alone.
At Marou, and within my family. I’m constantly reminded of the power of village. Whether it’s through a yoga class, a breathwork session, a treatment, a conversation over tea, healing often happens in connection.
Because when life feels uncertain, it’s not the perfect answers that carry us through.
It’s the practices.
It’s the people.
It’s the village.