2025: A Year of Trust, Depth, and Discernment in Practice. What Didn't Work So Well.

Each year, I take time to reflect on my work - not as an exercise in productivity or performance, but as a practice of honest listening. I look back at what worked well, what didn’t, and the growth I may not have fully recognised in the moment. You can see last year's here.

These reflections help me discern what wants to be carried forward, and what is ready to be released. They shape how I plan for the year ahead - not through rigid goals, but through intention, attention, and care.

This year, I felt drawn to share just a little bit of that reflection here, not as a set of conclusions, but as a quiet offering - an invitation into the questions, learnings, and moments of discernment that have shaped my teaching over the past year. You can read all about what went well, here.

This next part of my reflection isn’t about failure. It’s about noticing friction - the moments where something felt slightly out of alignment, or where my body quietly asked for a boundary sooner.

There were points this year where I felt stretched thin. Not dramatically, but through the subtle accumulation of doing just a little too much, or not leaving quite enough spaciousness around my teaching. When my own rhythm wasn’t honoured, I could feel the quality of my presence begin to thin.

Large groups have never suited me, and this year only made that clearer. Just because you can fit more people in a space doesn't mean I have to. My teaching comes alive in smaller, more intimate settings where I can offer full attention, respond in the moment, and hold space with depth and care.

Connection, not scale, is where my work feels most true. I’m learning how much I value spaciousness and simplicity in the way my work is held.

Towards the end of the year, I was faced with a situation that brought sharp clarity. An experience of being undermined and emotionally unsettled in a teaching space highlighted behaviours and attitudes I am unwilling to tolerate. It reminded me that safety, respect, and integrity are the bedrock of this work.

This year also brought home how easily I can put off difficult conversations, especially when I’m trying to preserve harmony. This comes from trauma, but also good intentions, but it showed me that clarity and openness sometimes need to arrive sooner rather than later.

I also became more aware of how sensitive my creative process is to the rhythm of my time. Saying yes to early morning gym classes was a small but telling example - my body knew almost immediately that it wasn’t aligned. The lesson wasn’t about the activity itself, but about listening sooner and trusting what I already know.

None of this is failure. It taught me something essential.

It taught me that discernment isn’t just philosophical — it’s practical and embodied. That my body offers information long before my mind catches up, and that alignment isn’t something to strive for later, but something to respond to in real time.

What growth I may not have noticed

Some of the most meaningful growth this year happened quietly.

Consistency deepened - not through doing more, but through showing up steadily, in a way that felt sustainable.

Commitment clarified. I was definitely less scattered, less pulled by possibility for its own sake, and more rooted in what genuinely matters.

Confidence softened into something calmer and less performative. Fewer explanations. Less second-guessing. More trust in my experience and timing.

And connection matured. Less about being liked, more about being present. The relationships that remain feel truer, more reciprocal, and more aligned.

This growth didn’t arrive with milestones or markers. It arrived through repetition, discernment, and a willingness to stay with myself.

As I turn towards the year ahead, I’m not interested in reinventing myself or setting ambitious targets.

What feels more important is carrying this steadiness forward. Protecting the rhythms that support my work. Honouring the spaces where depth, intimacy, and presence can continue to grow.

2026 doesn’t feel like a year to push into. It feels like a year to walk into with care - guided by that discernment, shaped by integrity, and grounded in the quiet confidence that comes from knowing when enough truly is enough.

2026, bring it on. Whatever you have in store, I am here for it!