Prioritizing yourself can be surprisingly difficult

I don’t think we need to pretend this is easy.

It’s not.

Especially when you’re busy.

There are responsibilities.

Work.

Kids.

Relationships.

Appointments.

Grocery shopping.

Emails.

Things around the house.

All the things.

And usually the time we intended to take for ourselves is one of the easiest things to move.

Something comes up.

We tell ourselves we’ll do it tomorrow.

Then tomorrow fills up too.

And before we know it, weeks have passed since we intentionally created a moment to check in with ourselves.

The difficulty is not always knowing that we need time for ourselves. Sometimes the difficulty is protecting that time once life starts asking for it back.

Consistency doesn’t have to mean every day

This is probably one of the most important parts.

When people hear the word consistency, it can immediately start sounding like another thing we have to succeed at.

Every morning.

Every night.

Seven days a week.

Never miss.

That’s not what I’m talking about.

If every day makes sense for your life, beautiful.

But maybe it’s once a week.

Maybe twice a month.

Maybe it’s a rhythm that changes depending on the season you’re in.

Consistency is not necessarily frequency.

It can be the intention to keep returning.

One experience can open a question. Returning gives you time to stay with it.

This is where consistency becomes really interesting to me.

You can come into one class and have a meaningful realization.

Maybe something comes up around a relationship.

A boundary.

Work.

Rest.

Your identity.

Something you’ve been avoiding.

You think:

Wow. I really want to sit with this.

And then you leave.

And life lives.

That’s probably one of the most relatable parts of this whole conversation.

You go home.

Your phone is there.

Your responsibilities are there.

The next morning arrives.

You meant to journal.

You meant to reflect.

You meant to explore that realization a little more deeply.

And then life sweeps you right back into itself.

Insight is easy to lose when we return immediately to the same pace that made it difficult to hear ourselves in the first place.

Returning creates another opportunity to listen

Maybe that’s one of the simplest ways to understand the value of a regular practice.

You get another opportunity.

Not necessarily to solve the thing.

Not to force yourself deeper.

Not to demand that you come back with some huge answer.

Just another opportunity to listen.

Maybe the question that surfaced last time feels completely different now.

Maybe it isn’t important anymore.

Maybe it became even louder.

Maybe something new came up.

Maybe you realize you haven’t thought about it at all since the last class.

That’s useful information too.

Because practice gives us a place to keep meeting ourselves instead of assuming that one moment of awareness should somehow finish the entire conversation.

There can be a form of accountability in returning

Not accountability in the harsh sense.

Not somebody checking whether you did your homework.

More like a gentle return to the conversation you were having with yourself.

Maybe last week you said:

I need to stop saying yes to everything.

Then life gives you another week.

Did you notice yourself doing it again?

Maybe you said:

I really haven’t been resting.

Then you come back and realize:

Wow, I still haven’t created any space.

Maybe you wanted to communicate something differently with your partner.

How did that go?

What did you learn?

What became difficult?

That is where reflection can move from being a moment into becoming a practice.

There is something different about being in a room without all the usual distractions

Our lives are noisy.

Even when they’re physically quiet.

There is always something available to consume.

A text.

An email.

A notification.

Social media.

News.

Music.

Television.

A podcast.

Another thing we can use to fill the space.

And then you walk into a room where, for a little while, most of that gets removed.

The phone gets put away.

There isn’t anything outside asking for your attention.

You don’t have to respond to anybody.

You can simply be there.

And suddenly there is nowhere else for your attention to go except the practice, the people around you, and yourself.

We spend so much of life receiving information from outside ourselves. Intentional quiet gives us a chance to notice what has been happening within us.

And sometimes the people around you become part of the practice

This is another thing you start noticing when people return consistently.

You begin seeing familiar faces.

Maybe you recognize someone from last week.

Then from another class.

Eventually someone is no longer simply “another person in the room.”

You know a little bit of their story.

They know a little bit of yours.

Maybe you never become close friends.

Maybe you do.

But there is something about repeatedly sharing intentional space with other people.

You begin noticing that other people are working through things too.

Other people have difficult weeks.

Other people are trying to create boundaries.

Other people are trying to slow down.

Other people are learning who they are.

And sometimes simply witnessing that can remind us that growth does not have to happen in isolation.

Being “held” does not mean someone else is responsible for fixing you

This language comes up a lot in wellness spaces.

Being held.

Holding space.

And I think it’s useful to explain what we mean.

It doesn’t mean somebody else carries your life for you.

It doesn’t mean the facilitator knows exactly what you need.

It doesn’t mean everyone in the room is responsible for your emotions.

Sometimes being held simply means:

There is enough structure around this hour that I don’t have to manage everything.

Someone else is guiding the practice.

I can receive.

I can rest.

I can notice what is coming up.

I can choose whether I want to share.

I can be around other people without being responsible for taking care of them.

Sometimes that is a very different experience from everyday life.

Intentional time gives reflection somewhere to live

A lot of us have thoughts about changing.

I want to slow down.

I want to communicate better.

I want to understand myself more.

I want to stop reacting so quickly.

I want to become more present.

But where does that reflection actually happen?

That’s a real question.

Where in your week is there enough space for you to explore any of that?

Because if the answer is nowhere, then it becomes very easy for our intentions to stay intentions.

Intentional time creates somewhere for the conversation to continue.

You might start learning more about yourself than the modality

At first, you’re learning the practice.

What is a sound bath?

How does this breathwork work?

What is Reiki?

What am I supposed to do during meditation?

But the more familiar the practice becomes, the less attention you may need to spend figuring out what is happening.

And then something else can become more noticeable.

You.

Maybe you realize your mind races every time you’re finally still.

Maybe you notice how difficult receiving feels.

Maybe you notice that rest makes you uncomfortable.

Maybe you notice you always want to know whether you’re “doing it right.”

Maybe you become aware that you feel safer speaking in the room than you did six months ago.

That is where the practice becomes more than simply learning a modality.

At some point, you may stop asking, “Am I getting better at the practice?” and start asking, “What is the practice helping me notice about myself?”

What if your practice changes because you change?

Consistency does not mean every class should feel the same.

In fact, I think the opposite is probably more realistic.

You are not the same every week.

Some weeks you’re rested.

Some weeks you’re exhausted.

Sometimes you’re processing something.

Sometimes life feels really good.

Sometimes your mind is quiet.

Sometimes your mind will not stop.

So the goal isn’t to repeat the same “good” experience over and over again.

The goal can simply be to notice:

This is where I am today.

This is why consistency and integration belong together

We don’t want the entire experience to begin and end inside the studio.

Maybe you feel calm for an hour.

Beautiful.

But what did you learn about yourself?

What did you notice?

What question did you leave with?

And then what happens when you return to your normal life?

Maybe you start noticing the same pattern at work.

Maybe the boundary becomes relevant in your relationship.

Maybe the breathing technique becomes useful before a difficult conversation.

Maybe you catch yourself rushing and remember what slowing down felt like.

Then you return to practice with more information.

That’s integration.

The practice informs life.

Life informs the practice.

Back and forth.

Again and again.

Heal • Create • Inspire is a practice of returning too

This is one of the reasons our mission at The Healing Tree Collective has never felt linear to us.

Heal.

We turn inward.

We listen.

We discover something.

Create.

We take what we’re learning and begin practicing another way of living.

A new boundary.

A different response.

A new relationship with ourselves.

A different way of showing up for the people around us.

Inspire.

Maybe other people experience that shift.

Maybe our relationships change.

Maybe somebody witnesses another possibility through the way we’re living.

And then life changes again.

Something new happens.

Another layer appears.

And we return inward.

That’s why returning matters.

We do not return because we failed to finish the work. We return because we are still living, changing, learning, and becoming.

Creating a consistent wellness practice in Tempe, Arizona

At The Healing Tree Collective, we offer different ways to intentionally create time for yourself through beginner-friendly wellness classes in Tempe.

The goal isn’t to tell you how often you should come.

It’s to create enough options that you can begin discovering a rhythm that actually works for your life.

Maybe you come once a week.

Maybe twice a month.

Maybe your rhythm changes.

The invitation is simply to become intentional about creating the space at all.

What could happen if you gave yourself somewhere to return?

This is the question I keep coming back to.

Not:

How many classes can I fit into my schedule?

Not:

How quickly can I change myself?

Not:

How do I turn wellness into another thing I’m really good at?

What happens if you simply create somewhere to return?

Somewhere to listen.

Somewhere to reflect.

Somewhere to be around people.

Somewhere you are not expected to solve everything immediately.

And then you keep returning as life keeps changing.