Maybe Sensitivity Is Also a Way of Listening

ahhtherapy ~newsletter ~September 2026

Living Better. Living well. It begins with the exhale ~"Ahh"
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Living in Rhythm With the Seasons

Hey there,

Do you feel the rhythm of the seasons?

Quiet shifts that arrive long before any marked dates on the calendar?

Some of us seem to notice these shifts more strongly than others. We feel the shortening days. We notice the quality of the light changing. Our energy may naturally turn inward as autumn approaches, or we may feel restless when spring begins moving through the world again. If you're a sensitive person, you may have spent years being told you're too sensitive to your surroundings. But perhaps sensitivity can also be a way of listening. Maybe some of what we feel is simply our awareness of the world we are already part of…

That quiet noticing eventually shaped the way I came to teach….

One of the things that happened when I first became a yoga teacher was that I started teaching yoga and meditation at a rehab facility out on Eastern Long Island. I was fairly new to teaching yoga and this was one of my first jobs. The classes were gentle, which felt like a comfortable place for me to begin because I had already been practicing yoga for quite a while. I had also been meditating even longer, so bringing the two together felt very natural.

But I knew right from the beginning that talking about yoga strictly from a Hindu or yogic perspective wasn't necessarily going to resonate with people who had never heard much about yoga, weren't particularly interested in it, or thought they couldn't do yoga because they weren't flexible. And I'm sure when you're coming off drugs and alcohol, the last thing you're probably thinking of yourself as is a yogi.

So I began with what I think is one of the biggest concepts yoga offers us: being present in the moment. Being present with where you are right now.

If we're very uncomfortable in our bodies, sometimes it's hard to be present within our bodies. But what we can do is be present within the environment we're in. Be present with the world around us. Be present with a moment in time. And when we're together in one geographical place, we're all sharing that same moment in time.

So I started weaving yogic philosophies together with the seasonal changes happening in the environment around us. I loved how grounded that made spirituality feel. It wasn't something abstract or somewhere "out there." It was right in front of us: the temperature changing, the days getting shorter, leaves falling, flowers opening, light returning.

You didn't have to believe in anything in particular to participate. You only had to notice.

Seasonal living had actually been part of my life long before I became a yoga teacher. I had honored the equinoxes and solstices in my own way since I was in high school. I wasn’t taught it, and I wasn’t initiated into it. Those days just meant something to me. I really can’t explain it much more than that. It simply felt right.

And I think there is something important in that too: the simple act of noticing what speaks to you and trusting it. We spend so much of our lives looking outside ourselves for someone to tell us what is meaningful, what is spiritual, what we should believe, or how we should practice. Sometimes something simply resonates. Sometimes your body, your intuition, or some quieter part of you recognizes something before your mind can put it into words.

So I started looking more deeply into the practices different cultures around the world had developed around the changing seasons, and began weaving some of those ideas into the meditations I taught. In autumn, we would meditate on letting go, on leaves falling, and on release. The equinox became a natural time to explore balance. Yogic philosophies like Sukha, Aparigraha, and Samatvam connected beautifully with those same ideas.

I also started planning practices around what the season seemed to call for, what our bodies and energy might need at that particular time of year. Through studying the five elements and meridian lines, I learned which areas of the body and which poses traditionally connected with different seasons, and wove some of those poses into the slower, gentler classes at the rehab.

Eventually, it just became a thing. My circles began in 2014, but I had already started introducing the solstices, equinoxes, and seasonal living into my work a couple of years earlier while teaching at the rehab.

Seasonal living reminds us that we were never meant to remain the same all year long. Nature changes her pace, her priorities, her expression, and her energy. And, perhaps, we're allowed to do the same.

Why Seasonal Living Unites Us

We can say a lot about how we can be better humans, with more humility, more compassion, and more kindness- and all of that is true. We should all be those things.

But often, we don’t have a commonality that binds us together, something that reminds us or encourages us to actually act that way.

Religion would have been a common denominator for many years, and it's true that dominant religions held societies together for thousands of years. But because there are now so many diverse populations, with different religions living in close proximity, religion can't necessarily be the thing that unites us anymore. There are too many differences. And, many religions -even Christianity, which I was raised in- have teachings or traditions that can discourage people from associating too closely with those outside their own belief system.

And when you can’t associate with someone- how do you extend kindness to them?

I’m not saying religion is bad. I’m simply saying that some of its components can separate rather than unite us, and that divide still shows up today.

Another thing that has traditionally united people is nationality; our patriotism and shared identity as citizens. But even that has become increasingly divisive in recent years. So our sense of country doesn’t necessarily unite us anymore.

So what can? What keeps us connected?

I would argue: Mother Earth.

Because no matter who you are, you are on this planet. You eat something that ultimately comes from the Earth. You breathe the oxygen of the Earth’s atmosphere. You drink from the waters of Mother Earth. There is very little that can tie us together as human beings as powerfully as the Earth itself.

Seasonal living is about celebrating that energy, the energy of the Earth. But not just on a surface level. The Wheel of the Year goes deeper than that. Take the trees as an example: the language they speak as they move from barren, yet still standing strong, into green leaves and new growth, then into fullness and fruitfulness, then into their waning season of golds, oranges, and browns, before returning again to that bare state: still standing, still rooted, still showing us their structure.

And what a metaphor that is for our own lives. Because we are cyclical too, and yet we so often expect ourselves not to be. We expect the same productivity, the same energy, the same clarity, month after month. But nothing in nature does that. There are seasons for growth and seasons for gathering. Seasons for letting go. Seasons for becoming quiet. Seasons where very little appears to be happening on the surface at all.

Maybe we need those seasons too. Maybe there are times to create and expand, and other times when our only work is to rest, listen, release, or figure out who we're becoming. Seasonal living gives us permission to stop treating every quieter season of our lives like something has gone wrong.

When we honor the Earth, we are, in many ways, giving thanks for our own lives. I don't know what could be more spiritual than that.

Seasonal living isn't a trite thing where we simply put up decorations and bake a pie. It's about noticing the energy of the season and recognizing the real connection between our inner life and the way we relate to the world outside ourselves.

The more closely we learn to listen to those outer rhythms, the easier it becomes to hear our own- to recognize when we need rest instead of pushing, when something is ready to be released, when new life is asking for our attention, and when something inside us simply isn't ready yet.

To me, that is where seasonal living becomes a practice of self-awareness, and ultimately, self-trust. And maybe, in a world with fewer and fewer things we all agree on, the Earth beneath our feet is still one of the few things we truly share.

Want to be held in this sacred window? Join us.

The Autumn Equinox has always been one of my favorite turns of the Wheel. It invites us to balance, to harvest, and to release.

For one sacred moment, light and dark meet as equals. This is our chance to meet ourselves there, too.

Join me for a two-hour Mabon circle of grounding, movement, Reiki, guided meditation, intuitive tarot, and sacred ritual. Together, we’ll honor what has ripened, offer gratitude for what has carried us here, and release what is ready to go.

We’ll build a community altar, share blessed seasonal tea and food, and make space for reflection, connection, laughter, and whatever is ready to be seen or felt.

What I’ve learned from holding these circles is that something shifts when we gather with intention. Nothing is completely scripted~ it’s alive, intuitive, and shaped by everyone who walks through the door. Each circle becomes its own little alchemy of connection, gratitude, release, and magic.

Would love to share this moment with you✨

With love,
​Shana

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