A PAUSE WORTH TAKING

As we move into spring, and as I prepare to hold a yoga retreat in May, I’ve been reflecting on what retreat is really for.

I’ve long thought of retreat as a place where people can devote sustained attention to the tender inner parts of themselves that busy lives often neglect.

At the same time, it’s impossible to ignore the broader context in which we’re living. The political climate in our country is volatile, and the coming spring will unfold during a particularly charged moment in our collective life.

I can’t ignore that.

Teacher Max Strom refers to the tender inner place we access through personal practices like yoga or Tai Chi as the Inner Axis. I might call it Inner Knowing, Being, or Spirit. Whatever language you prefer, when we’re connected to that deeper self, our inner compass clears. What matters becomes easier to see.

These days, we’re repeatedly exposed to images and stories of people behaving terribly. Most of us, and even our children, have seen the footage. This is taking a toll on us and on our collective psyche.

To “retreat” now might seem like the opposite of what we’re being called to do, which is to stand up to injustice. As I think about the meaning of retreat in this moment, I want to be clear:

To retreat —in the sense of a period of contemplation or renewal— is undeniably a luxury. Personal retreats require time, attention, and often money, resources not everyone can afford to give. Even brief periods of rest at home can feel indulgent when the world around us feels unhinged.

There are times, however, when tending to our inner stability isn’t an indulgence, but a necessary act of reinforcement.

An activist once told me that activism is like sustaining a long note in a choir.

No one can hold it forever.

Each voice must pause to breathe while others carry the sound.

***

We are like sea anemones.

When conditions feel safe and the nutrient-rich tide rushes in, we open. When poked or threatened, we close up. Closing is protective, and important. We all need the capacity to hunker down when a storm is coming.

Lately, too many of us feel poked.

And yet, as a form of resilience, or perhaps even resistance, we might explore another response: the ability to soften and remain open without becoming unprotected.

We need our defenses. Yes.

But I believe this moment calls for open hearts and clear minds. We must become open to one another, and to creative solutions that serve the common good. Even when we’re angry. Even when we’re afraid.

We open best in supportive environments that feel safe and warm. We become fortified in collective spaces where we can feel the courage, kindness, and steadiness of others.

This is what I want for all of us as we turn toward spring: conscious moments of pause and reflection as preparation for the coming tide. Let us be grounded. Not checked out.

The word I grew most tired of hearing in 2025 was “unprecedented.” 2026 is off to an even more unsettling start. To retreat now, regardless of how you structure one, could feel ill-timed for a number of reasons.

Or it could be a chance to practice opening when the tide comes in, even if the waters feel unpredictable.

Wherever and however you find it, may you give yourself permission for that kind of pause.