I’m someone who truly believes in the power of positive thinking—it’s one of the practices that has helped me turn my life around from feeling like a constant struggle to one of peace and grace, especially through yoga.
I no longer let my worst fears dictate my path.
I don’t beat myself up anymore, and I’ve learned not to assume the worst in others either.
I used to have a pretty negative outlook on life. But yoga… oh, yoga has a way of peeling back the layers of the self and helping you witness everything without judgment. And when that happens, it’s like a beautiful shift in vibration—one that heals deeply and brings mindfulness. It gives you the power to reframe your thoughts and transform them from negative to something much more positive.
Don’t get me wrong though, I’m not about toxic positivity. I can’t stand when people skip over their big feelings just to focus on the light. Avoidance doesn’t heal anything.
But most of the time, I lean into hope. I choose hope, and I trust that everything is unfolding in a way that will bring about the best possible outcome for everyone.
And right now, life is teaching me a big lesson—something deeper than I expected.
Acceptance.
Do you think it’s possible to have both hope and acceptance?
Hope is all about the future, right? It’s about believing something better is coming. But what about those times when that future doesn’t unfold the way we imagined? When things don’t turn out how we hoped? Does that mean hope is gone?
Is hope bigger than acceptance? Am I less spiritual when I trade hope for acceptance?
Acceptance has felt really hard lately, but there’s something about it that feels inevitable—like a warm blanket slowly wrapping around me, whether I’m ready for it or not.
I couldn’t just “will” myself to accept what’s going on. It’s not something you force. It’s more like I’m being gently led there, even though it’s painful. And as much as I wish it wasn’t, I know that I’m not in control of how things go. Reality is shifting in ways I never expected.
The truth? My mom is dying. Despite everything she’s fought for, despite all the strength in our family, this is where we are. And it hurts so much, yet there’s a strange peace starting to settle in.
Hope has evolved for me—it’s become something deeper, richer, more complex.
Does any of this make sense? Or am I just rambling? I’m definitely feeling a bit all over the place right now, like I’m on a boat in choppy waters, trying to find my footing. The energy and mood are shifting daily, and I’m not sure how long this ride is going to last.
I’d love to hear if you’ve ever gone through a time where hope transformed into acceptance. Your thoughts would mean so much to me right now.
Sending love,
S
