Genell Huston Yoga

Everything Hallelujah...

Life lately has looked like baseball fields and muddy cleats.

Trying to stay dry at soccer tournaments.
Wincing at the impacts done on Lacrosse fields.
Walking barefoot in my garden to cut fresh mint.

Just as quickly as the season began, it is coming to a close. So too is another year of life, soon to name a phase once lived. Watching my son walk on the high school auditorium stage to receive an award collapsed time into a blip.

The ordinary rhythm of life brings stability and anchoring to an otherwise swift moving current of life. When looking back at my life, the milestones may be remembered and marked, but, I imagine longing for the simpliest of experiences.

The car ride conversations to and from school.
The sideways glance my oldest son makes when pondering.
The wag of Ruby's tail when walking in the door.
The way my son says I love you as I leave his room at bedtime.
The smell of beachside roses.
The sound of my husband breathing as we head to sleep.
Birds' chorus at dawn.

These days, I am trying to pay attention, practice gratitude, and notice the life that is already here.

Life is happening in every moment. I am here for it.

Last night, we shared music, movement, breath, and practice together.

I wanted to share a few moments here as well.

The sounds, songs, spirit of the community, and voices joining together. What a magical experience. Hearing a room full of people sing doesn't translate easily into words.

Perhaps this video offers a small glimpse.

Thank you, Girish Music for sharing your music, and thank you to everyone who joined us in welcoming the Solstice together.

The medicine of the pause feels especially present this time of year.

As summer begins to unfold... life naturally starts pulling us outside again — toward the ocean, the woods, long evenings, movement, play, gathering, adventure, and space.

And I notice how much shifts when there is space.

When we are not moving so quickly from one thing to the next, something in the body softens. We begin to see more clearly. Appreciate more deeply. Feel more connected to ourselves, to each other, and to the life right in front of us.

Kindness returns.
Vision returns.
Gratitude returns.

Life doesn't suddenly become perfect... but we are finally present enough to experience it.

The pause can be a medicine in this way.

A reminder that sometimes what we are seeking is not somewhere else... but waiting for us beneath the noise, once we slow down enough to notice.

A few moments from our recent Sacred Nurture.

A day shared with Ginny Gill for women, mothers, caretakers, and those who spend so much of their lives tending to others.

We gathered for cacao, movement, breathwork, nourishing food, and time together. A chance to slow down for a few hours, settle into the body, and simply receive.

No pressure to be anything other than human. Just space to breathe, soften, connect, and be held in community.

Grateful for every woman who spent the day with us.

Hoping for more spaces like this, where we can come as we are and remember we don’t have to carry everything alone.

Honoring my mother.
And her mother.
And her mother’s mother…. And on and on.
Each showing up in their beauty way. ✨

Honoring the mothers of other brothers, of my love, grandmothers of my babes.

Loving becoming a mother…
The sweetest of gifts is learning about love through their eyes ❤️

Mother of all mothers… Pachamama. In utter awe of your grace and way every day 🌏.

This is the practice, too.

Recently, I’ve been spending time with family: my own, and the families who gathered with us.

And I’m reminded how easy it is to think the practice lives somewhere else… on the mat, in quiet spaces, in the moments we set aside for it.

But so much of it is here.

In the everyday.
In the conversations, the care, the responsibilities, the small moments that ask for our attention.

In how we show up when things aren’t ideal.
In how we stay, listen, respond, and begin again.

Family life isn’t separate from the practice —
it’s where it’s lived, over and over.

Grateful for these days,
and for the families who shared them with us.

May we continue to recognize these moments as part of the practice, too.

More than holding moments,
Costa Rica held a way of being.

The waves, the trees, the rising and setting of the sun…
and the people who gathered here, each arriving in their own way, yet meeting in something shared.

Grateful for these days, and for all that was held here.
To more spaces that invite us to return.