When Adding Goodness Brings Peace

(Lessons from my dirty dishes)

I found myself with a little extra time this morning. My “ladies holiday” interrupted my morning Ashtanga practice, so after my spiritual reading and pranayama, I found myself washing the dishes left in the sink from last night — nothing glamorous, just the ordinary rhythm of caring for my family.

Along with several plates and cutlery, there was one bowl with the remnants of a frozen watermelon-and-mint treat I had enjoyed the previous evening. As I poured water into the bowl, I watched the reddish-pink swirl lift up and float out, almost on its own, with minimal effort. A few mint leaves clung to the bottom, so I adjusted the nozzle slightly and gave them a little more water. And then those, too, let go — like magic — and floated up and out of the bowl.

It might sound crazy, but it felt like a small blessing. A reminder that sometimes peace isn’t found by removing, but by adding.

Sometimes peace isn’t found by taking away

When life feels loud — when the headlines are heavy, when uncertainty is in the air, when our nervous systems are tired from trying to make sense of the world — it’s natural to think we need to get rid of something to feel okay.

Get rid of the anxiety. Get rid of the fear. Get rid of the looping thoughts. Get rid of the tension in the jaw, the tightness in the chest, the heaviness behind the eyes.

This dirty bowl reminded me of something gentler:

sometimes we don’t find peace by removing. Sometimes we find peace by adding.

Adding more kindness. More breath. More warmth. More prayer. More steadiness. More practice. Not as a way of bypassing what’s real — but as a way of meeting what’s real with enough support that it can soften.

The parts that cling don’t need force — they need care

That mint that stayed stuck? It didn’t let go because I punished it. It let go because I gave it a little extra water in the right place. In stressful times, we all have “mint leaves” inside us — protective parts that cling. Sometimes they cling to control. Sometimes they cling to worst-case scenarios. Sometimes they cling to old grief, old anger, old stories.

If you notice yourself clinging right now, see if you can offer yourself this reframe:

• Nothing is wrong with me for feeling this.

• My system is trying to protect me.

• I don’t have to rip anything out of my heart to be at peace.

We can stay vigilant without becoming hardened. We can stay informed without becoming consumed. We can care deeply without drowning in what we cannot control.

We’re interconnected — and we’re all washing these dishes

One of the most tender truths of practice is this: none of us are separate.

Even when we’re alone in our kitchens, even when we’re quietly carrying worry, even when we feel helpless watching the world move through intense change — we belong to each other.

We’re all trying to wash these dishes. We’re all trying to do the next right thing with the tools we have.

And this is where practice becomes more than “self-care.” It becomes steadfastness — a way to keep our hearts available, our minds clear enough to respond with wisdom, and our love intact, even when fear is loud.

So if you’re feeling tender, or restless, or overwhelmed: let that be here. And also, let’s add something nourishing.

A few breaths. A few movements. A few moments of devotion to what is steady within you.

A short sequence for steadiness

Move slowly, and let your body lead. If anything doesn’t feel right today, you can always choose a smaller version, pause, or rest. Your practice belongs to you.

1) Grounding: Tadasana (Mountain Pose)

Stand with your feet hip-width or together — whatever feels most stable.

• Feel the soles of your feet.

• Let your breath drop into the belly.

• Soften the shoulders and place one hand on the belly, one on the heart.

• Imagine you’re being held by the earth below.

Stay for 5–10 slow breaths.

2) Ajna Chakra (focus + balance): Vrksasana (Tree Pose)

Bring one foot to the ankle/calf/thigh (avoid the knee). Hands at heart or overhead.

• Soften your gaze (drishti).

• Feel the quiet focus between the eyebrows.

Hold 5 breaths on each side.

3) Anahata Chakra (heart): Ustrasana (Camel Pose)

Come to kneeling. Place hands at the low back or on blocks beside the ankles.

• Lift the sternum as you inhale.

• Keep the back of the neck long.

• Think lift and length before depth.

Stay for 3–5 breaths, then come out slowly.

Option: If Camel isn’t accessible today, try a supported heart opener: lie back over a pillow/bolster along the spine, arms open, and breathe.

4) Sahasrara Chakra (crown): Headstand

Come to forearms on the mat, interlace fingers, crown of the head lightly down (as taught in your practice).

• Keep the breath smooth.

• Feel the lift of the pelvic floor and the length of the spine.

Stay in prep for 5–10 breaths, or take Headstand only if it’s steady and appropriate for you today.

Reset: Come to Balasana (Child’s Pose) for 5–10 deep breaths and let your nervous system settle.

5) Breath + seal: Bhramari (Humming Bee Breath) with Shanmukhi Mudra

Come to a comfortable seat.

• Bring Shanmukhi Mudra (using fingers to close the senses) gently — no strain.

• Inhale through the nose, then exhale with a soft hum.

Repeat 5–7 rounds.

6) Rest: Savasana

Lie down and let the practice settle.

Stay 3–10 minutes.

A closing Prayer

On days when life feels too much, remember you don’t have to “fix” yourself to be worthy of peace. Add one honest breath, one kind thought, one small practice. And trust that, like water in a bowl, goodness has a way of helping what clings begin to release.

May you feel supported in the middle of it all. May you remember what is steady within you. May your practice keep your heart soft, your mind clear, and your steps kind. And may you feel our shared humanity — even on the days we’re simply washing the dishes.

With love, Francia

P.S. If you’d like to practice together online or in person, you’re always welcome — Click HERE for the full class schedule.