Hi there!
I hope this letter finds you well!
As I sat down to write, many thoughts filled my mind, but in the end, I decided to follow my first instinct and share what came to me most naturally.
On a road trip to visit family, I glanced out the window, and my heart lifted at the sight of a lawn blanketed in what looked like wildflowers in soft shades of yellow, purple, and white.
They were weeds, technically–but that didn't matter to me. All I saw was beauty. All I felt was gratitude for their presence. I didn’t see the weeds as something to control, fix, or remove. Instead, I was overwhelmed by the desire to just let them be–exactly as they were.
Holding the image of these weeds in my mind, I recalled a quote from a tea label I recently read: “The difference between a flower and a weed is judgement.”
Typically, flowers are admired, celebrated for their beauty, and welcomed with love. Weeds, on the other hand, are often viewed as unwanted, intrusive, and problematic.
To some, weeds are seen as a nuisance–something to remove. To others, they’re valued for their healing properties.
What this quote suggests is that the difference doesn’t lie in the plant itself, but in how we choose to see it. And our perspective is personal, shaped by our individual experiences, and can shift depending on the circumstance. It might also change over time–existing more as a spectrum than a clear-cut line.
This idea reminded me of something in my own journey—specifically through my experience with somatic practices.
When I first began exploring somatics, I found it both empowering and frustrating.
I remember one practitioner encouraging me to observe the sensations that were surfacing in my body without judgement. I was invited to get curious about what I was feeling, rather than trying to change it, fix it, or push it away. This also meant letting go of the internal urge to attach meaning or a story to the sensation.
The sensation I was noticing at the time was pain—pain that had no clear biological cause.
Before I found somatics, my brain had already labeled this sensation as a weed, something that needed to be eliminated at all costs. And this reaction is completely natural and very human! In fact, this response showed me that my brain was doing its job. The pain felt unsafe and overwhelming, and my nervous system was simply trying to protect me by wanting to control it or make it go away.
But when I allowed myself to simply sit with the discomfort and observe it without resistance, I began to notice other things: tension in different parts of my body, shallow breathing, and some emotions rising that I couldn’t quite yet name but could sense. And around the location of the pain, I noticed colours, textures, and even images.
As I continued observing, I could feel my brain pulling me back into its familiar patterns—trying to problem-solve, analyze, label, and fix it just to feel some relief. Each time I noticed myself drifting into those old habits, I felt a wave of frustration and the urge to label the experience as “wrong.” A part of me wondered if I was failing at somatics, or completely missing the point of it altogether.
But this, too, became part of the exploration.
As I gently noticed these patterns and thoughts, I began to understand that the drive to control was rooted in fear.
The more I observed my response with non-judgement, the more I accessed something unexpected: compassion—for myself and for what my body had been carrying for years.
When the practice came to a close, I noticed my body felt more open and at ease. By allowing what was there to simply be, just as it was, I created space for energy to flow with greater ease. And in that softening, without effort or force, the pain began to lessen as well.
What I once saw as nothing more than a weed, slowly revealed itself to be something else entirely—a gift, carrying its unique wisdom, uncovered through curiosity and compassion.
Now, do I always meet these sensations this way? Nope! Definitely not. This is an ongoing practice, one that requires conscious awareness, patience, love, and nurturance.
Nonetheless, the reason why I share this story is to express that what seems like a weed on the surface—whether it’s certain emotions, challenges, or unplanned detours in life—may actually pave the way for learning, healing, and growth when met with curiosity and compassion.
What if the weed was actually a flower?
Or—perhaps the label doesn’t matter at all.
What might shift if we simply allowed ourselves to observe our sensations, without the label or judging it?
In the end, it’s less about what it is, and more about how we choose to see it—shaped through the lens of our own experiences and perceptions.
In somatic practices, we have moments of pause where we’re invited to simply observe sensations as they surface, welcoming them with non-judgemental curiosity.
While we naturally want to hold onto the “flowers” or what feels good, we’re also invited to sit with and observe the “weeds.”
And what feels like a flower or a weed is unique to each of us, primarily based on our lived experiences. What feels good to me, might stir discomfort in you, and vice versa.
Sometimes, our bodies send clear messages to back out of a posture, reduce the range of motion, or stop the practice altogether for various reasons. These signals are important to listen to and respond accordingly. This is the brain’s way of keeping us safe, so discernment does play a role in somatics.
That said, the mat also offers moments to experiment with releasing the labels, stories, or judgements attached to sensations. Instead, we can acknowledge them, sit with them, and allow them to simply be—without trying to fix or override. It’s an invitation to explore the wisdom found in the weeds.
For me, the mat is a playground to practice choice and non-judgement. It’s a space to deeply listen, explore, and play with these ideas—if and when we feel called to do so. It’s also where we can metabolize and integrate what we discover, often carrying those lessons into daily life.
I know I say this often—what I share in our letters isn’t universal truth. Each of us has unique lived experiences, which I deeply honour and strive to keep in mind whenever I create content.
Everything I share is simply an invitation. Take what resonates, and gently set aside what doesn’t—you’re always welcome to return to these reflections whenever you feel called. You might also choose to explore these ideas on your mat, allowing them to unfold organically through movement, breath, and quiet observation.
Through my own inner work, I’ve learned how important it is to honour my own voice and share reflections that I feel might be meaningful and helpful to you and our community. So, thank you for taking the time to read these reflections! 🙂
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A new month brings a fresh yoga calendar.
This month, we're exploring the theme Rooted.
You can download your calendar here: https://www.yogawithrachelmarie.com/calendar
Or you can follow along using this playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLftdoo4RFfAqqKQwDjpGL9LM3lmTxirVu
Here’s part of a reflection I shared on the Posts page of my YouTube channel:
“During this time of year, I find myself reflecting on how our bodies and minds are gearing up for back to school, back to work, and a return to our usual routines. Yet, if we tune into the natural rhythms of life, this season typically invites us to slow down, turn inward, release old patterns, and come home to ourselves.
Sometimes, I perceive a subtle disconnect between the pace of the outside world and what I’m feeling within–almost like a tension between the external demands and the signals coming from my body.
So, if you ever feel overwhelmed, unsteady, or uprooted during this season, please know you’re not alone! Deep down, our bodies are gently guiding us to slow down the pace, release, restore, ground and nourish ourselves, and find steadiness and ease.
Even though the external demands of the world may not align with our inner rhythms, we can still choose practices that honour the natural wisdom of our bodies – with yoga being one way to help us return to our roots…”
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this letter. 🙂
I hope you have a beautiful day and a joyous week!
Sending you peace and love,
~ Rachel
