I’ve only been home a few days, but there’s still a part of me that wakes before dawn, expecting the cool marble floor beneath my feet and the soft sound of chanting to automatically begin. India felt like a standstill in time – not because nothing was happening, but because everything was happening inside. Each day began at 3:30 a.m. and ended with dinner being served at 5:30 p.m.

Now, back in my everyday rhythms, I’m reminded that the real journey begins now. How do I integrate the changes that have happened within me back into my familiar life?

The past month, I spent tucked away near the mountains in Rishikesh, where the Ganges curves quietly through the foothills of the Himalayas. My Kundalini yoga teacher training lasted 23 days and gathered 60 participants from every corner of the world – from Brazil to Japan – all drawn by the same longing to deepen our practice. Some were teachers, but most came simply for the experience. My teachers were 82 and 76, living examples of what lifelong devotion looks like. We had only two days off, and even then, the mornings began at 3:30 a.m. for sadhana – two and a half hours of chanting, movement, and meditation before sunrise. Each day unfolded in a steady rhythm of practice, teachings, group sharing, and simple meals of gluten-free, oil-free, mostly vegan food. I’ve done enough trainings to arrive without expectations, but this one was still full-on; a relentless pace that stripped away distraction and left only what was essential.

What stays with me most from the training isn’t the teachings or the meditations – it’s the women. Dozens of us, from different corners of the world, sitting in silence at sunrise, crying during practice, holding one another through discomfort and breakthroughs. There was no competition, no masks. Only deep seeing, soft laughter, shared strength, and quiet support. To be in a space where women lift, witness, and steady each other changes something in you. It was a powerful reminder of the kind of safety and support that is life-changing when we are met instead of judged.

Coming home, I realised how tender change can feel – like something great but fragile, unless we choose to root it into daily life. Because the truth is, the magic isn’t in India. The magic is in how we choose to live and be in our ordinary lives at home. Integration is the real practice – woven through the small choices we make each day.

In a retreat bubble it’s easy to feel connected. It’s much harder when there are overflowing inboxes, laundry piles, partners, children, deadlines, and everyday noise. But transformation doesn’t stay unless we anchor it. It’s never the bold declaration that changes our lives, our health, or our bodies; change comes through quiet, repeated acts of devotion toward a new reality.

So this month, my intention is simple: to embody the changes within me through every choice I make – not necessarily perfectly, but consistently. For me, that looks like beginning each morning before sunrise with sadhana: the daily practice of movement, breathwork, and meditation that aligns my body and mind before the day begins. It also means choosing to spend time only with people who are kind, open-hearted, and curious, rather than judgmental of me. These may seem like small things, but they are quiet acts of devotion – the way transformation becomes lived, not just remembered.

And here’s my invitation to you: take a moment for yourself to notice what has shifted within you this year – and choose a simple way to honour it, so you can end the year rooted in who you’re becoming, not who you were.

Much love,
Mai