The clock reads 2:37 AM, its red digits cutting through the darkness. Exhaustion settles in, yet the mind stays awake. Eyes flutter shut, searching for stillness, as thoughts refuse to quiet.
A comment from days ago resurfaces—uninvited, unshaken. Its edges are still sharp, its weight still pressing. It plays on repeat, as crisp and stinging as the moment it first left someone else’s lips.
Now, it loops endlessly in the silence. Unfinished conversations, unanswered texts, the email that took too long to send—things once brushed aside now feel heavier. Sleep drifts further away.
Overthinking creeps in like a slow-building storm. The air grows heavy, charged with static, as though rain is imminent. Thoughts surge, louder and more pressing. Small moments twist, stretch, and take on new weight. Peace unravels, bit by bit.
A quote resurfaces: “The storms in my mind ruin the gardens of my soul.” The mind turns on itself, spinning reason into endless What ifs? What now? Does this even matter?
The weight is exhausting. For years, only two options felt possible:
Push the thoughts away. Shake them off. Keep moving.
Drown them out. Stay busy. Fill every moment with noise, work, distractions.
Still, silence creeps in, slipping through the cracks when things slow. The mind resists, but a few things help.
Give It a Name.
Uncertainty looms largest when it stays undefined. Naming it—This is anxiety. This is doubt. This is regret.—shrinks it down to something manageable.
Stop Wrestling With It.
Pushing thoughts away only makes them louder. Sitting with them, acknowledging them without chasing them, takes away their power. At first, it’s uncomfortable. Over time, the discomfort fades.
Let the Storm Do Its Work.
Not every storm destroys. Some uproot what no longer belongs. Others carve new paths where there once were none. When the noise settles, what remains might be what truly mattered all along.
In the stillness of sleepless hours, the storm itself isn’t the most exhausting part. It’s the resistance. The harder the mind pushes back, the louder the thoughts become. Staring at the ceiling, replaying moments that shouldn’t matter but somehow do. The more the mind tries to quiet itself, the more restless it gets. The more sleep is chased, the further it drifts. At some point, exhaustion wins.
The thoughts don’t disappear, but they lose their urgency. Their edges blur. Their weight shifts. It doesn’t happen all at once. It happens in moments—between tossing and turning, between one deep breath and the next.
The storm passes, not because it was fought, but because the struggle stops. And in that quiet, sleep finally comes.
The word “intense“ often surfaces when someone doesn’t quite fit the expected mold. At first, it may seem like a simple observation. Beneath it, however, lingers something unspoken—a subtle suggestion to ease up, to soften, to hold back.
It is a quiet plea to temper passion, to dial down certainty. This word appears when emotions are fully expressed, when conversations move beyond small talk, when conviction is unrestrained.
Intensity, in this sense, is often misinterpreted. It is not about volume or force but depth—a way of moving through life with awareness, curiosity, and emotions that refuse to remain superficial. For some, this depth can be unsettling. But should it be softened?
A Different Way of Experiencing the World
Some people feel everything. A passing comment lingers in their mind for days. A song isn’t just a song—it brings back a feeling, a memory, a person. Even the smallest act of kindness can be overwhelming, not just for what it is but for what it means.
This kind of intensity makes life both meaningful and exhausting. It is why beauty can bring tears, why a conversation can feel charged, and why even an ordinary day can hold such weight. It sparks a need to understand, to look beyond the surface, to uncover the deeper story beneath what people say and do.
Joan Didion (2005) once wrote, “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” For those who experience life this way, stories are more than entertainment. They help process the world, revealing hidden meanings and forging connections that might otherwise go unnoticed. Through stories, life feels truly real.
Some may call it too much, but maybe it’s just a different way of noticing.
Depth, Not Distance
A woman who experiences life deeply is often labeled as intense, as if her nature requires softening. Depth, however, is not something to restrain—it is a presence that is deliberate, steady, and fully engaged.
She is the friend who asks how you are truly doing and listens with genuine care. She lingers in the pauses, unafraid of silence, allowing meaning to surface in its own time. Where others see only scattered pieces, she notices the patterns that connect them.
This kind of connection demands full engagement—it does not lend itself to half-measures. For some, this intensity feels unfamiliar. They may prefer something lighter, more manageable. But depth is not something to fear.
Clarity That Can Be Uncomfortable
Clarity comes not from harshness, but from focus. Some truths lose their impact when they are softened too much.
In Women Who Run With the Wolves, Estés (1992) describes the wild woman archetype as someone deeply in tune with her instincts. She refuses to be tamed or diminished, embracing her true nature with strength and certainty. This kind of clarity, grounded in authenticity and self-trust, can shift the atmosphere of a room. Superficial conversations may feel empty, while small talk often lacks the depth to keep her engaged.
The desire to understand, connect, and see things as they are isn’t about being difficult—it’s about being fully engaged. For those who find comfort in distance, this intensity may feel unfamiliar. Challenges arise when depth is met with an expectation of simplicity.
Reclaiming Strength Through Intensity
Depth and clarity are often what make women’s experiences so powerful.
Frida Kahlo, for example, used her paintings to express emotions that could not be easily softened. Through surreal, deeply personal imagery, she shared her experiences of pain, love, and resilience in a world that often asked women to appear pleasant above all else (Herrera, 1983).
Sylvia Plath wove the intensity of her inner turmoil into her writing. In The Bell Jar and Lady Lazarus, she invited readers into her struggles with love, loss, and identity, reflecting the raw realities of life (Alexander, 1991).
Marie Curie’s work was driven by a similar intensity of purpose. Her research in radioactivity, along with her discoveries of polonium and radium, contributed to major advances in science and medicine. Her relentless pursuit of knowledge led to two Nobel Prizes, establishing her as one of the most influential women in history.
Glennon Doyle (2020) captures this truth in Untamed: “When a woman finally learns that pleasing the world is impossible, she becomes free to learn how to please herself.” Women like Kahlo, Plath, and Curie found that their greatness didn’t arise despite their intensity, but because of it.
The Value of Feeling Deeply
The intensity often seen in women who embrace life with passion, who move through it with purpose, should not be feared or diminished. It is a force that shapes their lives—and leaves a lasting impact on those around them.
Frida Kahlo, Sylvia Plath, and Marie Curie prove that greatness isn’t born from ease or restraint but from fully engaging with the complexities of experience and emotion. To feel deeply, engage authentically, and move through life with unyielding intensity is not a flaw—it is power. It is a force that exists without apology. Trust it. Let it shape, challenge, and redefine what is possible.
References
Alexander, P. (1991). Rough magic: A biography of Sylvia Plath. Viking.
Didion, J. (2005). The year of magical thinking. Knopf.
Doyle, G. (2020). Untamed. The Dial Press.
Estés, C. P. (1992). Women who run with the wolves: Myths and stories of the wild woman archetype. Ballantine Books.
Herrera, H. (1983). Frida: A biography of Frida Kahlo. Harper & Row.
Quinn, S. (1995). Marie Curie: A life. Simon & Schuster.
At first glance, snowflakes and depression might seem unrelated. Snowflakes are celebrated for their delicate beauty, each one unique and intricate in design. Depression, on the other hand, is often seen as heavy and persistent, a stark contrast to fragility. Yet, both are shaped by invisible forces, deeply personal in nature, and often misunderstood.
A Quiet Uniqueness
No two snowflakes are the same. Each forms as water vapor freezes onto tiny particles, with temperature and humidity shaping its design. Similarly, depression appears differently in each individual, shaped by a unique mix of biology, environment, and personal experiences.
Research on mindfulness and psychological health highlights how these individual factors affect mental health outcomes, making each experience of depression unique and deeply personal (Keng, Smoski, & Robins, 2011).
For some, depression feels like a heavy weight, dulling the senses and draining energy. For others, it may appear as a relentless stream of thoughts that never quiets. Physically, it can present as chronic fatigue or unexplained pain, while emotionally, it may emerge as sadness, numbness, or guilt.
Depression is often viewed as a spectrum, reflecting its unpredictable and varied nature. Symptoms can shift over time, appearing differently from one person to another. Some may experience moments of relief, only to face relapses that feel heavier than before (Melrose, 2015).
This variability makes diagnosis and treatment difficult, as no single description can encompass its full complexity. In the same way, calling a snowflake “ice” overlooks the intricate patterns that make each one unique.
Psychologists emphasize that understanding the multifaceted nature of depression requires looking beyond surface-level symptoms. Individual coping strategies and life circumstances play a significant role in how depression is experienced and managed (Lopez, Pedrotti, & Snyder, 2019).
Shaped by Forces Unseen
Snowflakes are shaped by unseen forces like temperature, humidity, and air currents, leaving a lasting mark on their structure. Depression is also influenced by forces that are often hidden, including genetics, trauma, relationships, and coping mechanisms. The relationship between neurobiological and psychological factors provides insight into how depression takes hold.
Research highlights how past trauma, stress, and genetic predispositions shape depression. These factors affect neurobiological processes, which include the brain and nervous system functions that regulate emotions and behavior. Key elements, such as serotonin and dopamine levels, significantly influence the development and persistence of depression (Rutten et al., 2013). This evidence shows that depression is not simply a reaction to challenging life events or a lack of effort. Instead, it arises from a combination of complex factors, many of which lie beyond an individual’s control.
Depression stems from a mix of internal factors and external challenges. These influences are complex and deeply personal. Recognizing this helps promote a more thoughtful and empathetic understanding of mental health.
The Weight That Shifts
Snowflakes rarely fall in a straight line; they twist and turn, carried by the wind until they finally settle. Depression mirrors this unpredictability. Some days, it feels unbearably heavy, making even the simplest tasks seem impossible. On other days, it is more subdued, a quiet ache beneath the surface.
Unlike snowflakes, which melt and vanish quickly, depression often lingers. Its unpredictable nature can make it difficult to recognize and may leave individuals hesitant to seek help. This is especially true for those whose symptoms don’t match common stereotypes. For instance, “high-functioning depression” refers to individuals who appear outwardly composed while silently struggling internally (Snyder et al., 2019).
Others experience cyclical episodes, where periods of relief are followed by sudden relapses, emphasizing the need for personalized care and tailored treatment.
Listening to What’s Unspoken
Depression, like a snowflake, can be subtle and easily overlooked without gentle attention. Many people stay silent, afraid of being judged or overwhelmed by the pain or discomfort of facing their struggles. This silence can feel heavy, deepening the sense of isolation. Over time, it quietly reinforces the stigma surrounding mental health.
Breaking that silence is crucial. Mindfulness-based approaches focus on establishing safe and non-judgmental environments that encourage individuals to share their experiences openly. These settings promote self-awareness and cultivate compassion for both the individual and others (Jacobs-Stewart, 2010; Keng et al., 2011).
Just as examining a snowflake shows intricate details, understanding an individual’s experience with depression can reveal its complexities. With proper care, time, and support, the burden of depression can be lessened, and its severity may decrease.
Finding Strength in Change
The snowflake metaphor represents individuality, transformation, and complexity. Personal growth involves managing difficulties rather than avoiding them. Research on resilience shows that gradual healing is possible through patience, self-compassion, and support (Lopez, Pedrotti, & Snyder, 2019). Over time, even significant challenges become more manageable.
Depression, like snowflakes, reflects the depth and variation of individual experiences, each contributing to personal growth. Environments that embrace vulnerability and prioritize mental health awareness help build resilience. Studies on well-being indicate these supportive spaces help individuals regain strength and find meaning in difficult times (Gautam et al., 2024).
By understanding depression’s contributing factors and responding with empathy, its impact can be lessened, allowing for recovery and growth. Much like a snowflake’s unique structure, healing is a gradual, transformative process that reveals strength through life’s challenges.
References
Gautam, S., Jain, A., Chaudhary, J., Gautam, M., Gaur, M., & Grover, S. (2024). Concept of mental health and mental well-being, its determinants and coping strategies. Indian Journal of Psychiatry, 66(Suppl 2), S231–S244. https://doi.org/10.4103/indianjpsychiatry.indianjpsychiatry_707_23
Jacobs-Stewart, T. (2010). Mindfulness and the 12 steps. Hazelden.
Keng, S. L., Smoski, M. J., & Robins, C. J. (2011). Effects of mindfulness on psychological health: A review of empirical studies. Clinical Psychology Review, 31(6), 1041–1056. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cpr.2011.04.006
Lopez, S. J., Pedrotti, J. T., & Snyder, C. R. (2019). Positive psychology: The scientific and practical explorations of human strengths. SAGE Publications.
Melrose, S. (2015). Seasonal affective disorder: An overview of assessment and treatment approaches. Depression Research and Treatment, 2015, 178564. https://doi.org/10.1155/2015/178564
Rutten, B. P. F., Hammels, C., Geschwind, N., Schruers, K., Wichers, M., & Kenis, G. (2013). Resilience in mental health: Linking psychological and neurobiological perspectives. Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica, 128(1), 3–20. https://doi.org/10.1111/acps.12095
There are moments that linger. Late at night, headlights cut through the darkness, while a song stirs emotions beyond words. In these fleeting moments, strength quietly rises, guiding us forward even when the path ahead is unclear.
The Roads We Carry explores the resilience found in these moments. The poem captures how music, like the road, steadies us through uncertainty, offering no answers—just a rhythm to follow.
The Roads We Carry — The Poem
By Kerry Ann Wiley
A cassette hums in twilight’s haze, Static crackles through forgotten days. Neon signs flicker, a restless glow, Edges blur—no place to go.
The chords rise up, a whispered dare, A drifter’s hymn fills the open air. “Here I go again,” the voice insists, Each note a map, a chance, a twist.
The road unfolds, no end in sight, Wheels turning under pale moonlight. The music swells, a quiet roar, Freedom hums through an open door.
When the weight of the world starts to press, And silence cradles old distress, The beat still echoes, steady and kind— A guide to the heart, a solace for the mind.
Years unravel, but the melody stays, Threading through life’s winding maze. Not just a tune, not just a refrain— The rhythm remains.
In The Roads We Carry, music becomes more than just a soundtrack. It carries emotions that words cannot express. The cassette hums softly, its crackle punctuating the silence, a fragile but steady reminder that even imperfections hold meaning.
The static doesn’t interrupt the rhythm; it deepens it. As the cassette moves through its cycles—rewinding, playing, and slowly fading with use—it retains something timeless despite its flaws.
The poem reflects the idea of moving forward, even when answers feel distant. In the poem, the road is more than just a path. It becomes a metaphor for transition, carrying the weight of the past while remaining open to what lies ahead.
The movement in the poem isn’t driven by urgency but guided by intention. The road reflects life’s steady pace, even when the direction and destination remain unclear. Its rhythm offers reprieve from uncertainty. These moments linger, carved into the spaces where the music fades and the road ends, flowing into the intersections of uncertainty and hope. Sometimes, simply moving forward is enough.
The Roads We Carry honors the strength in persistence. The road serves as a bridge, connecting past, present, and future. Both the road and music create a space for reflection, where life’s questions can coexist with forward motion.
The road symbolizes life’s path, while music represents rhythm and introspection. Together, they form a contemplative space where unanswered questions can be considered without halting progress.
This suggests that uncertainty doesn’t have to hinder movement; instead, reflection and action can happen simultaneously, allowing growth even without complete clarity.
The cassette’s static and crackle symbolize impermanence, adding depth to the moment. Listening becomes an act of remembering, feeling, and continuing. “The rhythm remains” echoes this persistence—a steady strength through life’s changes.
The road is a liminal space, always between what was and what is to come. Headlights carve clarity into the darkness, while the shadowed horizon holds the unknown This tension mirrors life—where clarity and uncertainty intertwine, allowing space for reflection without demanding answers.
The car, small and intimate, becomes a vessel for freedom. The music blends with the wind through open windows, connecting the interior and exterior worlds. Together, the road and music process emotions, allowing questions to linger without the need for resolution.
In The Roads We Carry, the road and music come together to create a space where uncertainty feels less overwhelming. The road, stretching into the unknown, reflects life’s transitions, while music offers a steady rhythm to follow. The crackle of a worn cassette and the hum of wheels remind us that strength lies in the act of moving forward, even when the way ahead isn’t always clear.
These moments—lit by headlights and accompanied by music—offer comfort in their simplicity. The road serves as a quiet presence, where clarity and uncertainty meet, and music fills the silence with emotions too deep for words. The music fades, but its rhythm lingers—a quiet reminder that moving forward, no matter how uncertain, is a strength in itself.
Some mornings don’t go as expected. The coffee spills, a fragile item shatters, and the day feels just a bit off. It might be something small, like forgetting the house keys, that sets everything off balance. These disruptions may seem insignificant, but wabi-sabi invites a pause to appreciate the imperfect moments (Juniper, 2003). Rather than viewing these moments as signs of a day gone wrong, consider how a brief pause can shift perspective.
Take the chipped mug on the counter. At first, it seems like just another damaged object, a reminder of an old accident. The chip carries a story of rushed mornings, tired hands reaching for it, and moments now gone. The mug, like those who use it, shows the marks of daily life and resilience (Koren, 2008; Delorie, 2018).
This is the core of wabi-sabi. Rooted in Japanese philosophy, wabi-sabi finds beauty in imperfection (Juniper, 2003). It doesn’t hide flaws but invites a deeper appreciation of them. Imperfections are not faults; they are the traces left by life’s experiences, much like resilience, which is the ability to adapt and recover from difficulties, showing strength through challenges (Delorie, 2018).
When Things Don’t Go as Planned
Expectations often shape daily life: a project should unfold as planned, a meal should match the recipe, and mornings should go smoothly. However, life rarely aligns with these ideals. As Koren (2008) suggests, things seldom go as expected.
The chipped paint on the wall, the cluttered desk, and the laundry waiting to be folded all mark the ongoing, unpolished nature of life. Moments pass, priorities shift, and things remain unfinished (Juniper, 2003). Wabi-sabi offers a gentler perspective. It finds beauty in what already is, as it is.
Take kintsugi, for example, a practice related to wabi-sabi, which mends broken pottery by celebrating its flaws rather than hiding them (Koren, 2008). Kintsugi teaches a powerful lesson: imperfections, whether in objects or people, should not be concealed.
When a bowl cracks, the cracks are filled with gold, transforming flaws into a form of beauty. These golden seams do not mask the damage but highlight it, making the object’s history a visible part of its beauty (Koren, 2008). Cracks, whether physical or emotional, are not signs of failure.
They are marks of resilience, proof of the ability to withstand and rise above challenges. Each crack tells a story of moments that tested and reshaped a person (Delorie, 2018). Like the gold in kintsugi, these imperfections reflect growth and transformation. The beauty in mended cracks mirrors the strength that emerges from overcoming hardship (Koren, 2008; Juniper, 2003).
Looking Closer at the Little Things
A spilled coffee cup or a scar may seem like everyday occurrences, but they carry profound meaning (Delorie, 2018). A scar is not just a mark. It is a powerful symbol of survival, a record of the body’s resilience and ability to heal. Similarly, the worn cover of a favorite book shows the marks of use—how it’s been read, carried, and revisited time and again (Juniper, 2003). Even a coffee spill, frustrating as it may be, serves as a reminder that everything is fleeting (Delorie, 2018).
Juniper (2003) describes wabi-sabi as finding beauty in the “transient and incomplete.” In this context, transient refers to the temporary, ever-changing nature of things, moments, or people—recognizing that nothing lasts forever. Incomplete refers to the idea that things do not need to be perfect or finished to be valuable. Instead, wabi-sabi embraces the beauty found in imperfection and the unfinished, accepting them as part of what makes something or someone real (Koren, 2008). This philosophy encourages embracing life’s natural imperfection and change, rather than striving for perfection.
Appreciating the Everyday
Wabi-sabi draws attention to details that often go unnoticed. They remain in the background until something brings them into focus (Juniper, 2003). Imagine a wooden table, scarred by time and the marks of shared meals. Similarly, a sweater with thinning elbows still offers the same comfort it did when it was first worn.
Then there’s the mug with a chipped edge, worn down by countless mornings. These objects are not valued for meeting a standard of beauty. Their value comes from the experiences they have been part of and the connections they represent (Delorie, 2018).
This is the core of wabi-sabi. Delorie (2018) describes it as “releasing control, embracing what is, and finding gratitude in the moment.” Gratitude doesn’t need to come from something extraordinary. It can arise from something as simple as the warmth of sunlight through a smudged window or the quiet comfort of something well-used (Koren, 2008).
The Things That Hold It Together
When things don’t go as expected, frustration can take over. Wabi-sabi, however, shows there is value even in these moments, even when they seem imperfect. The chipped mug still holds coffee, and the crooked plant continues to grow. Life moves forward, despite the flaws (Juniper, 2003).
The worn mug doesn’t lose its purpose because of its imperfections. The chip is part of its story, what makes it familiar and unique. The same is true for people; the cracks and marks don’t diminish their worth. They are reminders of lessons learned, of how time has shaped them. As Koren (2008) reflects, imperfections are not flaws to hide, but parts of a story to embrace.
Life doesn’t need to be flawless to feel complete. It is the imperfections—the cracks, the disruptions—that make things meaningful and memorable.
References
Juniper, A. (2003). Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence. Tuttle Publishing.
Koren, L. (2008). Wabi-sabi for artists, designers, poets & philosophers (Illustrated ed.). Stone Bridge Press.
Delorie, O. L. (2018). Wabi Sabi: Finding Beauty in Imperfection. Sterling Publishing.
A common question from readers of Wiley’s Walk is how to make movement accessible to everyone, regardless of their physical abilities or experience level. For many, exercise can feel more like a burden than a benefit.
The pressure to keep up with intense routines, the discomfort of unfamiliar movements, or simply the lack of motivation often turns exercise into something to avoid. Yet, what if there was a way to move that didn’t require pushing past physical limits or enduring discomfort? Yoga may offer a refreshing alternative to conventional forms of exercise.
Unlike many traditional workouts, yoga is a practice that adapts to the body, helping to calm the mind and foster a sense of balance. Whether you are looking to relieve stress, build strength, or simply feel more at ease in your own body, yoga provides a unique and welcoming approach. It makes movement more accessible and maybe even enjoyable. Let’s explore why yoga might be the perfect solution.
What Is Yoga?
Yoga is about balance—physically, mentally, and emotionally. It is a practice that nurtures both the body and the mind, no matter where you begin. At its core, yoga integrates three key elements:
Movement (Asanas) Poses like Downward Dog and Child’s Pose are central to yoga, helping to build strength, flexibility, and a sense of inner calm. These poses are both foundational and accessible, making yoga adaptable to all levels.
Downward Dog (Adho Mukha Svanasana): This pose strengthens the arms and legs while stretching the spine and hamstrings. It is both energizing and soothing, grounding the body while lifting the hips upward.
Child’s Pose (Balasana): A resting posture, this pose encourages relaxation and allows for a moment to release tension. It’s a chance to pause and breathe.
Together, these poses highlight how yoga blends effort and rest, promoting physical stability and mental ease (National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health, n.d.).
Breathing (Pranayama) Focused breathing techniques, known as pranayama, helps calm the nervous system, enhance energy, and promote a sense of balance. Whether it’s slow, deep breaths to relax or invigorating techniques to energize, pranayama connects the breath to the mind and body.
Mindfulness (Meditation) At its core, yoga is all about mindfulness. Mindfulness is the practice of staying present in the moment.
Through meditation, we can calm our minds and create a break from mental distractions. By cultivating heightened awareness and focus, meditation improves mental clarity, which allows us to think clearly and stay present.
It also enhances emotional stability, helping us remain calm and balanced even during stressful situations. Together, these benefits leave us feeling more centered and at peace (Harvard Health Publishing, n.d.-b; National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health, n.d.).
By combining movement, breath, and mindfulness, yoga provides a way to build physical strength, emotional balance, and mental calm. Whether you’re new to yoga or have years of experience, it grows with you, offering benefits for both your body and mind.
Yoga for People Without Disabilities
For individuals without disabilities, yoga offers an excellent way to build strength, relieve stress, and develop a stronger connection with the body. Its low-impact design is gentle on the joints while still delivering a challenging and rewarding experience.
Here are some of the physical benefits yoga can offer:
Flexibility and Strength: Poses like forward folds and warrior stretches help improve flexibility and gradually build muscle strength.
Stress Reduction: Yoga reduces cortisol levels—the stress hormone—helping to create a sense of calm and relaxation (Goyal et al., 2014).
Enhanced Balance: Yoga improves body awareness, boosts coordination, and lowers the risk of injury. Many athletes also practice yoga to enhance performance and support recovery (Harvard Health Publishing, 2019).
Yoga isn’t just about how the body moves—it’s about how movement makes you feel. It’s about building confidence, developing self-awareness, and understanding the body’s needs.
Yoga for People with Disabilities
Yoga’s adaptability makes it a great option for individuals with disabilities. Whether dealing with limited mobility, chronic pain, or other physical challenges, yoga can meet you exactly where you are. Here’s how yoga adapts:
Chair Yoga: Designed for those who have difficulty standing or balancing, chair yoga features seated poses that emphasize controlled breathing, gentle stretches, and strengthening the upper body.
Supportive Props: Tools like yoga blocks, straps, and bolsters make poses more accessible and comfortable by adding stability and support.
Breath and Mindfulness Practices: Even with minimal movement, yoga’s focus on breathing techniques and mindfulness offers significant benefits, promoting relaxation, reducing stress, and enhancing mental well-being.
For individuals with conditions like Cerebral Palsy, Multiple Sclerosis, or Spinal Cord Injuries, yoga can improve range of motion, reduce muscle tension, and help manage chronic pain (Smith et al., 2019). Yoga is about moving in ways that feel right, not about achieving perfection.
The Benefits of Yoga for All
Yoga is more than just stretching or exercise—it’s a holistic practice that strengthens the body, calms the mind, and fosters a deeper sense of ease and connection within oneself. Its benefits extend across both physical and mental well-being, offering a transformative experience for practitioners.
Physical Benefits
Yoga supports the body in numerous ways, improving both strength and mobility:
Stronger Core and Improved Balance: Poses like tree pose or seated twists target muscles that stabilize the body, enhancing strength and coordination.
Increased Flexibility: With consistent practice, yoga helps release tension in tight muscles and joints, offering relief for conditions such as arthritis.
Pain Management: Research shows that yoga can alleviate chronic pain, including back pain and joint discomfort (National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health, 2020).
Mental Benefits
Beyond the physical, yoga provides powerful mental and emotional support:
Reduced Stress and Enhanced Calm: Yoga’s breathing techniques and mindfulness practices are effective in lowering anxiety and promoting a grounded state of mind (Goyal et al., 2014).
Improved Sleep: By encouraging relaxation, yoga helps individuals fall asleep more easily and enjoy deeper, more restful sleep.
Boosted Confidence: Through a focus on self-awareness, yoga nurtures a positive relationship with the body, fostering appreciation for its abilities and enhancing overall confidence.
How Much Exercise Is Enough?
While yoga offers a wide range of benefits for both the body and mind, you may wonder how often it is necessary to practice to experience these effects. The good news is that yoga is highly flexible and accessible, with even short, 10–20 minute sessions yielding noticeable improvements.
Whether practiced a few times a week or daily, yoga’s regular incorporation into your routine can amplify its physical and mental benefits, promoting long-term health and balance.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) recommends that adults aim for at least 150 minutes of moderate-intensity activity per week, plus muscle-strengthening exercises on two or more days (CDC, 2022). For individuals with disabilities, these guidelines are the same, but activities should be adapted to personal abilities.
Yoga is an excellent choice for meeting fitness goals, as it can serve as both an aerobic workout and a strength-building exercise, depending on the style and intensity. Even a 30-minute session of gentle yoga can contribute to your weekly activity targets.
Starting small is key. Even a few minutes of yoga a day can build momentum toward a more active lifestyle.
Making Yoga a Part of Your Life
Yoga doesn’t need to be complicated to be effective. Whether practiced at home, in a class, or with an adaptive instructor, getting started is simple.
Here’s how to make yoga work for you:
Start Small: Even 5–10 minutes a day can make noticeable improvements. Consistency is key.
Choose the Right Class: If you are new to yoga, look for beginner or adaptive classes online or locally.
Use Props: Don’t hesitate to use yoga blocks, straps, or chairs to make poses more accessible.
Go at Your Own Pace: Yoga is a practice, not a performance. Modify or skip poses as needed.
Focus on how yoga makes you feel, not on how it looks or how “good” you are at it.
Final Thoughts: Yoga for Every Body
Yoga isn’t about perfecting poses or comparing yourself to others. It’s about tuning into your body and finding what works best for you. Adding yoga to your routine can help build strength, reduce stress, and make your day feel more manageable.
Yoga meets you where you are, adjusting as your needs and abilities evolve. At its core, yoga is about more than just movement. It is about creating space to breathe, connect with your body, and move in ways that support your overall well-being.
References
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2022). Physical activity for everyone: Guidelines for adults with disabilities. Retrieved from https://www.cdc.gov
Goyal, M., Singh, S., Sibinga, E. M., Gould, N. F., Rowland-Seymour, A., Sharma, R., & Haythornthwaite, J. A. (2014). Meditation programs for psychological stress and well-being: A systematic review and meta-analysis. JAMA Internal Medicine, 174(3), 357–368. https://doi.org/10.1001/jamainternmed.2013.13018
Harvard Health Publishing. (n.d.). The physical benefits of yoga. Harvard Medical School. Retrieved January 23, 2025, from https://www.health.harvard.edu
Smith, C., Hancock, H., Blake-Mortimer, J., & Eckert, K. (2019). A randomized comparative trial of yoga and relaxation to reduce stress and improve mood. Complementary Therapies in Medicine, 15(2), 77–83. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ctim.2018.11.005
Growing up with MTV, cassette tapes, and neon signs, music was always there, subtly shaping the moments of adolescence. Each beat and lyric seemed to find its place, adding meaning to the disarray of growing up. Those songs quietly shaped who I was becoming.
Some songs felt like more than just music. Tracks like Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” or U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” spoke directly to the restless energy of youth in the ’80s. When those chords began, the radio’s volume surged, daring the speakers to hold up. Car windows slid down, the wind rushed in, voices rose to meet the chorus, and hands tapped rhythms on the dashboard.
But it wasn’t just the sound—it was what the words did. “Here I go again on my own… down the only road I’ve ever known.” Or Bono’s searching confession: “I have climbed the highest mountains… I have run through the fields…” These weren’t just lyrics; they were invitations—to wander, to step beyond the predictable, to chase something bigger that hadn’t yet taken shape but felt essential to find.
The car became more than a way to get from one place to another. It was a haven, a space where everything else faded away. Whether it was my best friend Rabia’s sticky-dash Toyota Corolla or my brother’s gasoline-scented Nissan Z, the car felt like its own small universe. The music was always loud, filling the air and pushing everything else to the background. In those moments, it wasn’t just about the drive—it was about freedom, wrapped in a beat.
When “Here I Go Again” played, it wasn’t David Coverdale’s song anymore. It was Rabia’s. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, her voice brimming with confidence as she sang, “Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone.” She wasn’t just driving; she was commanding the moment, guiding us through a world that felt both too big and somehow not big enough. The destination never really mattered. The music provided its own direction, replacing uncertainty with rhythm and offering an escape that didn’t need permission.
One Saturday, parked at the edge of an unfamiliar field, the opening chords of “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” spilled from the speakers. For a moment, it was just the music—Bono’s voice, raw and searching, stretching the moment. “I have climbed the highest mountains… I have run through the fields.” Those lyrics bridged the stillness of where we were to everything that felt just out of reach. They didn’t provide answers, but they gave us space to breathe. Restlessness became curiosity, longing transformed into hope, and the weight of questions felt lighter in the music.
There were heavier days too, when everything felt overwhelming—school, fragile friendships, the looming uncertainty of the future. Rebellion didn’t always wear black eyeliner or punk clothes; sometimes, it was quieter, hiding in the corners of songs that refused to offer easy resolutions. “Though I keep searching for an answer…” didn’t promise clarity, but it reminded me to hold on and keep moving. Progress wasn’t about figuring it all out—it was about staying in the search. The music became a companion, grounding me while still pushing me forward.
Years later, those songs still find their way back to me. Whenever “Here I Go Again” plays, I’m reminded of those restless drives and the open-ended possibility they carried. The music doesn’t just bring back the past. It threads through who I am now, a quiet reminder that life has never been about finding the perfect destination. It’s about the moments that carry us forward. It’s about the spaces in between, where we discover who we are becoming. The music was never just a soundtrack. It was the journey itself.
As the sun sets below the horizon, the sky undergoes a stunning change. Fiery oranges, deep magentas, violet blues, and rich indigos merge, filling the sky with breathtaking hues.
In those few moments, the world feels different—lighter, somehow. The burst of color cuts through the heaviness of the day, reminding anyone who looks that even in overwhelming moments, beauty finds a way to break through. The glow is brief, but its impact lingers.
The evening air was sharp with cold, the kind that nips at the edges of awareness. In the midst of a restless walk, questions looped relentlessly: What’s next? What if this doesn’t work? What if it does, but it’s still not enough?
In that moment, the sky, with its raw and vibrant colors, held everything still. The weight of everything else faded, if only for a brief pause. It was in that pause that something shifted. A sense of presence emerged, reminding me and any other spectators of a truth often forgotten: the importance of noticing.
Why Noticing Matters
In times of uncertainty, it is easy to focus on what’s wrong or what’s missing, falling into a spiral of negativity. This response, known as negativity bias, helped our ancestors stay alert to danger. However, today, it often increases stress and prevents people from noticing the small moments of good around them (Baumeister et al., 2001).
Barbara Fredrickson’s broaden-and-build theory introduces a different perspective. She argues that emotions like awe, gratitude, and joy do more than enhance well-being—they expand thinking. These emotions play a key role in building resilience, helping individuals bounce back from challenges and stay steady through adversity. In moments of awe, strength surfaces, and a sense of equilibrium is regained, shifting focus from what is missing to what is already in place.
The sunset didn’t erase the doubts or fears, but it stirred something deeper. It served as a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, good things remain.
Where the Good Hides
The good isn’t gone; it’s hidden in the small, often overlooked moments of life. It is there in the steam rising from a cup of coffee, the crisp crunch of leaves beneath footsteps, or the brief wave from a passing neighbor. When stress takes over, these moments slip into the background, unnoticed and undervalued. Yet they persist, reminding us of what truly matters.
A few weeks ago, the weight of endless emails, looming deadlines, and unspoken expectations felt overwhelming. While walking outside, sunlight filtered through the trees, scattering golden light across the sidewalk. It didn’t resolve the chaos, but in that brief moment, it provided a much-needed pause. The weight of the day, still present, shifted.
Research supports this. Sonja Lyubomirsky’s (2007) studies reveal that lasting joy often emerges not from major accomplishments, but from small, everyday moments: sinking into a favorite chair, hearing a familiar laugh, or feeling the rush of a song that stirs a memory.
A friend once shared how, during a tough year, she began writing down three things she was grateful for each night: her dog’s wagging tail, the scent of rain, sunlight warming the kitchen floor. Initially, it felt forced, but gradually, those small moments of appreciation began to shift her perspective. What had once seemed ordinary started to hold deeper meaning. Gratitude doesn’t erase life’s struggles, but it changes how they are carried. It shifts the focus, making the weight feel a little lighter.
How to Practice Noticing
Noticing the good takes time and effort. At first, it’s not easy. With practice and consistency, especially during tough times, it begins to grow. The more it’s practiced, the easier it becomes. Start small—step outside, even for just a moment.
Focus on the details around you: the way the wind moves through the trees, the rhythm of your steps, or the scent in the air. When something stands out, take a moment. Let it settle, even if it seems fleeting.
Some days, noticing can feel impossible. The goal isn’t to force it, but to develop a habit of paying attention. Over time, those small pauses build, offering a sense of perspective when it is needed the most.
The Joy of Sharing
One of the unexpected gifts of noticing is the joy of sharing it with others. A friend once sent me a photo of a sunrise—soft streaks of pink and orange stretching across rooftops. Her message was simple: “Thought you’d like this.” She was right. That small gesture served as a reminder that the good is still here, even when it is easy to forget.
Since then, sending these moments has become a practice—whether it is a photo of changing leaves or the way light falls just so on the pavement. A small act, but one filled with meaning. Sharing it is a way of saying, “This mattered to me, and I thought it might matter to you, too.”
Noticing doesn’t just ground—it connects.
An Invitation
The good is already here, waiting to be noticed. It won’t erase the weight of challenges, but it can shift how they are carried. Step outside. Look around. Notice the sunlight filtering through leaves, the distant hum of a lawnmower, or the way rain dots a window. These moments won’t fix everything, but they can provide a sense of steadiness, offering the strength needed to move forward.
References
Baumeister, R. F., Bratslavsky, E., Finkenauer, C., & Vohs, K. D. (2001). Bad is stronger than good. Review of General Psychology, 5(4), 323–370. https://doi.org/10.1037/1089-2680.5.4.323
Emmons, R. A., & McCullough, M. E. (2003). Counting blessings versus burdens: An experimental investigation of gratitude and subjective well-being in daily life. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 84(2), 377–389. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.84.2.377
Fredrickson, B. L. (2004). The broaden-and-build theory of positive emotions. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 359(1449), 1367–1378. https://doi.org/10.1098/rstb.2004.1512
Lyubomirsky, S. (2007). The how of happiness: A new approach to getting the life you want. Penguin Press.
At some point, a stone appears—an obstacle so large it feels insurmountable. It might be a personal struggle, a difficult choice, or an unexpected challenge that feels unbeatable.
The common instinct is often to avoid, work around, or ignore it. It is seen as a barrier to progress. What if that stone isn’t something to sidestep? What if it’s something to reshape? Within its hardness, there could be something waiting to be uncovered—a path, a door, a new direction.
This question lies at the heart of Shifting the Stone. The poem challenges not to escape difficulties, but to transform them. The stone doesn’t vanish; it changes. What once felt like an insurmountable barrier now shifts into something more practical—something that can be used to move forward.
The poem speaks to anyone who has faced a challenge, encouraging a new perspective on obstacles. When the obstacle is observed from another angle, what seemed unmanageable becomes a tool for change, a catalyst for moving in a new direction.
Shifting the Stone: The Poem
By Kerry Ann Wiley
Within the stone, a door awaits, Not by avoiding, but by reshaping. Each jagged edge becomes a curve, A channel for light to twist and fall.
A shift is small, yet vast, In the new angle, a world unfolds— Not what is missing, But what can emerge From the quiet center.
The question rises, “What else?” Not from the visible, But the hidden thread between— Where walls blur, And ideas break free.
No lines are straight, Only bends and folds. What is forward is all around, A new beginning, A thousand directions.
Through unfamiliar eyes, The world exhales, and the dark dissolves. Is it a boundary, Or an opening to step into? The ground beneath shifts, And movement follows.
For those who learn to navigate difference, The horizon extends, not in front, But in all directions. Where space becomes water, And the flow is endless.
The voice that says “stop“ Is muted here. The question rings out, A collective hum of “Why not?” Turning silence into possibility.
Words hang in the air, Like vapor, heavy and light. A single phrase, A shift in the winds of thought.
A path appeared, Not of steps, but of possibility, A new language of ascent.
Independence is not a place to land, But a current that moves, quiet, unseen. Measured not in miles, But in the grace of moving at all.
In the spaces of doubt, A question takes root: “What else exists here?” And the asking itself Becomes the answer.
The questions asked become the frame, Each hand that reaches builds the shape.
Every challenge holds its own answer, Not in the damage, But in the making of something new— When leaning toward each other.
The shift isn’t in the space between, But in the pulse, In the hands that weave, In the hearts that merge. Together, the unseen is created.
In each gesture, a spark. A word that rises, A touch that begins again, Each moment an echo Of a thousand moments before.
What if it could shift? The thought flutters in, A whisper gathering force. And then, certain, The pulse of “Why not?”
Not just for one, but for those yet to come— What is moved today Carves a path for others, And in their footsteps, The road finds its shape.
Not the limits, but the ways. The question isn’t what can’t be done, But what can be turned toward.
The Power of Perspective
The poem invites a reconsideration of what it means to face an obstacle. In a world that often prioritizes speed, challenges are frequently seen as hurdles to overcome quickly.
Yet Shifting the Stone offers a different perspective. It doesn’t encourage resistance but transformation. The stone does not vanish; it shifts, revealing hidden paths, fresh perspectives, and opportunities for growth—possibilities that might have otherwise gone unnoticed.
“Within the stone, a door awaits…” This opening line suggests that even the most unyielding obstacles hold untapped potential. Challenges are not just barriers. They are opportunities waiting to be discovered. Yet, unlocking this potential requires more than force—it calls for engagement, patience, and a fresh perspective.
Asking New Questions
One of the most striking themes in Shifting the Stone is the importance of curiosity. The poem suggests that transformation begins with small, powerful questions. Asking “What else?” shifts the focus away from limitations and toward possibilities. This simple, open-ended question becomes a catalyst for discovery, encouraging exploration of what lies beneath the surface of an obstacle.
Rather than asking, “Why is this happening?” the question shifts to “What can emerge here?” This change in perspective reshapes the narrative, turning barriers into opportunities and stillness into growth.
Transformation Beyond the Individual
The poem emphasizes the collective nature of change, illustrating that true transformation occurs when people join forces, rather than striving alone. Change is not solely a personal journey, but a shared process where the efforts of many extend far beyond the individual.
Through collaboration, obstacles are not only overcome for individuals, but also for others, forging paths that can be followed by many. This interconnected approach to transformation relies on the strength of the group, where each person’s contribution helps move what once seemed impossible.
The poem shows how collective action reshapes not just individual experiences, but also demonstrates how united efforts can achieve what was once thought unachievable.
Conclusion: A Shift Toward Possibility
Shifting the Stone reveals that challenges are not mere barriers but invitations to change. Instead of avoiding or resisting, the poem calls for reshaping obstacles into opportunities for growth.
A small shift in perspective—asking “What else?”—uncovers hidden paths and opens new possibilities, breaking through limitations. The collective power of collaboration strengthens this transformation, proving that change thrives when shared.
In the end, it is not the stone that defines the path, but the ability to reshape it. What could be achieved if every obstacle was seen as a chance to create something new?
Achievement isn’t about sidestepping obstacles. It’s about transforming them into something valuable. Often, a small shift in perspective reveals opportunities hidden within the challenge itself. Progress emerges in unexpected ways when approached from a different angle (Shogren et al., 2019).
For individuals with disabilities, this perspective turns barriers into new possibilities. It is not about overlooking limitations, but about asking a simple, powerful question: “What else is possible?” This mindset doesn’t erase barriers; it encourages creativity to see them differently.
By focusing on what could work instead of what doesn’t, challenges become opportunities for progress. These solutions empower individuals, foster inclusion, and drive meaningful change. Re-framing challenges isn’t just a shift in perspective. It is a purposeful practice that opens the door to innovation (Burgstahler, 2015).
The Power of Early Messages
Possibility starts in childhood, when self-perceptions are still forming. For children with disabilities, the messages they hear early on can either build confidence or create self-doubt. The words adults choose can shape how children see themselves and imagine their futures (NCBI, 2020).
A physical therapist once offered a perspective that reshaped my understanding of independence: “You may never walk without canes or some other device, but you will find your own way in the world.”
Those words, both practical and hopeful, stayed with me. They challenged the conventional idea of independence. It wasn’t about walking a certain way; it was about finding freedom in movement, in whatever form it takes. That perspective opened the door to possibilities I hadn’t considered before.
The concept of independence became something broader—uniquely mine to define. With the steady and unwavering support of my family, I realized that independence isn’t about meeting someone else’s standards of success. It is about creating a life based on personal strengths and values, shaped by what truly matters.
When children are encouraged to see challenges as opportunities to explore, they gain a powerful understanding: solutions are always within reach. Asking “How can this work?” instead of “Why can’t it?” sparks the kind of thinking that drives real and lasting change (Shogren et al., 2019).
Community as a Catalyst for Change
Success is shared. A community thrives through common values, mutual support, and collaboration. It turns challenges into opportunities, transforming bold ideas into action. Community isn’t defined by proximity, but by the collective effort that turns ambition into meaningful impact.
This collective effort begins with asking, “What if?” and “Why not?” and making it happen. Growth starts with connection. From these connections, solutions emerge, potential is unlocked, and change takes root. Community isn’t just about location; it is about working together toward progress. When inclusion becomes a priority, the impact is profound.
The shift from asking “Can this student participate?” to “What do they need to succeed?” (Burgstahler, 2015) reflects a meaningful move toward spaces that prioritize genuine inclusion over mere compliance. This shift has the potential to extend beyond the classroom, influencing workplaces and public spaces, where the focus could gradually shift to offering everyone the opportunity to engage and thrive.
Universal design principles in schools make learning more accessible for everyone, not just students with disabilities. For instance, captioned videos allow all students, including those with hearing impairments or language barriers, to fully engage with multimedia content. Offering materials in different formats, such as printed handouts and digital versions, ensures students can access content in the way that works best for them. Similarly, inclusive workplace practices like accommodations and mentorship programs, enhance productivity and foster a sense of belonging for all employees.
Public spaces, including parks and libraries, are increasingly being designed with accessibility in mind (Patrick & McKinnon, 2022). This focus ensures that these spaces are welcoming to all individuals, regardless of their abilities. This focus on inclusion is further strengthened by representation. When people witness others overcoming similar challenges, it makes the concept of success feel more tangible. It transforms abstract possibilities into clear, achievable goals. Role models play a crucial role in showing that success is personal and adaptable. They reinforce the belief that everyone has the potential to thrive and reach both individual and shared goals.
Possibility in Action: A Daily Practice
Possibility isn’t a fixed idea; it’s a choice to embrace hope, determination, and creativity every day. Consider the college student with a visual impairment who faced inaccessible textbooks. Rather than accepting the challenge, she advocated for accessible software at her university. Her efforts not only solved her problem but also brought lasting change, benefiting others for years to come (Shogren et al., 2019).
This example shows what possibility looks like: identifying challenges, finding better solutions, and working toward them. Even small steps, taken consistently, lead to meaningful progress. Moving from “What if?” to “Why not?” is a continuous process that requires creativity, resilience, and the belief that change is possible.
Reframing challenges means seeing obstacles as opportunities for growth. By designing systems where inclusion is the foundation, not an afterthought, a more accessible environment becomes not just possible—but tangible. Every act of advocacy, innovation, or change helps move this vision forward.
References
Burgstahler, S. (2015). Universal design in higher education: From principles to practice (2nd ed.). Harvard Education Press.
Grandin, T. (2009). The way I see it: A personal look at autism and Asperger’s (2nd ed.). Future Horizons.
National Center for Biotechnology Information [NCBI]. (2020). The impact of early intervention on children with Cerebral Palsy. Retrieved from https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov
Patrick, M., & McKinnon, I. (2022). Co-creating inclusive public spaces: Learnings from four global case studies on inclusive cities. Journal of Public Space, 7(2). https://doi.org/10.32891/jps.v7i2.1500
Shogren, K. A., Burke, K. M., Antosh, A., Wehmeyer, M. L., LaPlante, T., Shaw, L. A., & Raley, S. (2019). Impact of the Self-Determined Learning Model of Instruction on Self-Determination and Goal Attainment in Adolescents With Intellectual Disability. Journal of Disability Policy Studies, 30(1), 22–34. https://doi.org/10.1177/1044207318792178
