I was not sure what to expect but knew I needed to regain focus/vision to forge ahead in my PhD program.
The theme I went in with was a need for balance in my life, and Gretchen totally facilitated my ability to clearly see what I need to do to accomplish this balance in all areas.
- Pam R.
The birds don’t arrive all at once.
The crocuses take their time.
And the light? It comes back in little drips before it pours.
Spring, in all its beauty, never rushes. And neither should we.
If you're still feeling slow, heavy, or unsure while the seasons shift, you're not behind. You're just honoring the truth of your body and spirit—still thawing, still stretching, still sensing where the energy is meant to go.
Let's look at some ways to awaken gently this spring, through slow rituals and intentional presence. Not leaping into motion, but stirring gently—delicately, curiously, kindly. Think of the way animals begin to cautiously come out in early spring, little by little, and give yourself permission to do the same.
Spring doesn’t arrive in a single moment. It comes in pulses—a few warm days followed by a chill, then sun again, then clouds. The season shifts and we're still living with winter, even as spring begins to rise.
When we live closely with our spirits, this back-and-forth becomes more than just weather. It's a divine dance. A spiritual entanglement between rest and reawakening. Between stillness and movement. It’s okay to not feel consistent.
Awakening is like healing, it happens in spirals. So if you find yourself energized one day and completely exhausted the next, just remember that you’re not doing it wrong. You’re human, a part of the planet.
This is a good time to practice gentle springtime rituals—simple, soul-soothing practices that you can reach for as the light slowly returns. Some are sensory, some are spiritual, others are practical. Take whatever resonates, and let your own rhythm guide you.
Instead of jumping into the day with caffeine or cold water, try sipping something that gently wakes your digestive fire.
CCF tea—made from cumin, coriander, and fennel seeds—is a traditional Ayurvedic blend that supports digestion and detoxification.
Or, opt for warm water with lemon and fresh ginger to signal your body it's time to wake, slowly.
Before reaching for your phone or sitting down to work, go outside or at least to an open window—even for just a few breaths.
Let the sunlight touch your face. Feel the earth under your feet. If you walk, walk slowly. Not for the exercise, but for the connection.
At the minimum, consider your vitamin D levels and supplement as needed.
Gather a few small items that remind you of who you are when you feel most at peace: a scent, a stone, a favorite poem, a cozy pair of socks, a soft brush, a grounding oil.
Keep them together where you can reach for them easily in the morning or whenever you feel scattered.
Instead of prescribing movement, let it emerge. Some mornings it may be stretching in bed. Other days it might be dancing in the kitchen, swaying to a song, or a slow walk through the trees.
There’s no wrong way to move—only ways that feel true to your energy in the moment.
If you have access to an infrared sauna, try using it as a place of renewal. Let the warmth remind your cells to soften.
Or if not, find a sunbeam and sit in it for five minutes. Let your body absorb the light like a seed just beginning to sprout.
Yes—bedrotting counts. Rest is not the opposite of awakening.
Rest is the invitation to rise fully when the time comes. Give yourself permission to linger in blankets, to listen to your body, to trust the ebb as much as the flow.
This season isn’t asking you to be ready. It’s asking you to be present.
To notice what’s stirring.
To reach for what feels nourishing.
To keep choosing softness even when others want to rush you forward before you're ready.
I hope these rituals offer you small ways to come home to yourself this spring. May they meet you wherever you are—still thawing, still listening, still feeling into how to rise.
And when your light fully returns? Let it pour.
With care,
Gretchen