Every year around this time, the socials, e-mails and conversations fill up with NOvember slogans. Graphics reminding us to say no.
No to burnout.
No to overcommitment.
No to the things (and sometimes, the people) that drain our energy.

And don’t get me wrong, boundaries are important. They’re sacred, even. Learning to say no is a skill most of us have had to earn through exhaustion, resentment, or a good therapist {Shout out to Kim!!}. But lately, I’ve been noticing how easily “no” can become another form of control a way to wall off, manage, or withdraw instead of nurture.

We start weaponizing the word saying “no” from a place of defence instead of discernment.
We ghost, we isolate, we create rulebooks about energy that sometimes don’t leave much room for empathy or softness.
We confuse quiet with avoidance, solitude with superiority, and boundaries with barriers.

And that’s not the kind of care most of us are craving.

So this year, I’m choosing something different.
I’m choosing to see November as it is. A quiet bridge.

November is that in-between space a quiet bridge between the fullness of fall and the stillness of winter. The trees have done their letting go, but the snow hasn’t quite arrived to blanket everything yet. It’s not a season of extremes. It’s a season of in-betweens.

You can feel it in your bones... the body asking for slower mornings, warmer foods, softer clothes. The craving for routine, but not rush. The way light hits the kitchen differently at 4 p.m., inviting you to pause instead of push.

November says: it’s okay to move slower now.
It’s the perfect month to rebuild capacity not in a productivity sense, but in a deeply human one.
Capacity for presence.
Capacity for empathy.
Capacity for joy that isn’t forced or performed.

Maybe rebuilding capacity looks like saying yes to fewer things, but showing up more fully to the ones that matter.
Maybe it’s letting yourself leave the laundry half-done so you can linger on the couch with a book.
Maybe it’s choosing a long walk instead of another hour of scrolling.

These small acts of slowness are not laziness. They’re restoration.

We live in a world that mistakes exhaustion for excellence.
We celebrate people who “push through” who hustle, who grind, who do it all.
But November invites something different: gentleness.
Yes even with everything that is going on in Congo, Sudan, Jamaica, Gaza, North America, Australia, Asia, Europe, Hell Antartica.
Even with the systems that oppress, compress and are making us regress.

It’s that subtle reminder that our power doesn’t come from how much we can carry, it comes from how well we can pause, refill, and soften into our own rhythm. AND yes you've heard this before in so many ways but the reminder still stands.

Think about the difference between forcing yourself through a workout you hate versus moving in a way that feels nourishing.
Think about how it feels to rush through a conversation just to check in, versus sitting with someone, fully present, no phone in hand.
That’s the shift November asks for. Less performance. More presence.

It’s not about cutting off. It’s about tuning in.
Not about saying no. But about noticing where yes naturally wants to grow.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of “self-care” that feels like another checklist: meal prep, skincare, journaling, cold plunges, all the things. But true care is simple: it’s the act of listening inward and honouring what you hear.

That might mean skipping a class because your system needs a bit of quiet.
Or showing up anyway, because connection is the fucking medicine.
It might mean boundaries that breathe ones that protect your peace and leave room for love.

So maybe this November, instead of pushing away, we come closer.

Closer to our own bodies, not to fix them, but to thank them.
Closer to our practices to remember that movement doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.
Closer to our people; the ones who know how to hold space for both laughter and tears in the same breath.
Closer to presence itself. which is that unspoken rhythm that reminds us we belong to something bigger than our busyness.

Let’s make space this month for warmth, empathy, and connection the kind that builds capacity for all the seasons ahead.

Let’s remember that softness is not surrender, and boundaries don’t have to be brick walls.
They can be gardens.

And gardens need tending y'all. Not pruning out of fear, so they become unrecognizable shrubs, but nurturing from love.

So here’s to November:
To gentleness that doesn’t apologize.
To connection that doesn’t demand.
To rest that doesn’t need to be earned.

Not NOvember. Just November.

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Try This: A Soft Practice for November

When everything feels full, fast, or loud… slow down on purpose.
Try this 10-minute grounding ritual to reconnect to your yes:

1. Find your Reclined Chill.
   Lay down on your mat or couch.
   Bring one hand to your chest, one to your belly.
   Breathe in through your nose for four counts, out through your mouth for six.
   Let your body settle before your mind catches up.

2. Ask yourself:

   • Where in my life am I finally letting myself exhale?

   • What does openness mean when it’s supported, not forced?

   • What am I ready to open, even just a little?

3. Move gently.
   Try a few slow hip openers, a Figure 4 Bridge, a side-to-side Skandasana/Side Lunge flow.
   Move without needing to achieve. Just breathe and notice.

4. End with stillness.
   Legs up the wall.
   Whisper to yourself: “I don’t have to earn this rest.”
   Stay long enough to believe it.

5. Carry it forward.
   Make a cup of tea.
   Text someone who softens your world.
   Put on a song that makes you feel soft.
   Keep your heart open, but your pace kind.