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Image by Ian Schneider

Practices for endings / wintering

Seasonal Embodied Yoga practice
for the end of this year
This is an example of my upcoming programme which begins on January 1st 2023. These are the types of practices that will be included and it's an example of how you can access new practices each week. In addition, there will be an online library of all the practices organised by category, for example all the January / winter meditations in one place.

If you wanted to do a longer practice, you could go through (some or all of) the practices in one session.

Mini-meditation (6 mins.)

Self-compassionate check in (5 mins)Karin van Maanen
00:00 / 05:44

Reflective meditation (18 mins.)

Inspired by The Examen Prayer / contemplation of Ignatius Loyola, this meditation includes the opportunity to look back over and process the events of a day, week, month, year, season, special event, programme, course - anything you are about to finish or have recently completed.

Restorative Movement (15 mins.)

Gently energising movement (5 mins.)

Breathwork Practice (12 mins.)

Guided Relaxation (21 mins.)

Guided conscious resting practiceKarin van Maanen
00:00 / 20:49

Daily Life Practice


Choose a simple everyday task like washing up, showering, doing laundry, cooking and slow it right down so you are doing it at a very leisurely pace. Pay full attention. Do the movements involved as if you are doing yoga.

Poem of the week



by Mary Oliver

In winter

    all the singing is in

         the tops of the trees

             where the wind-bird


with its white eyes

    shoves and pushes

         among the branches.

             Like any of us


he wants to go to sleep,

    but he's restless—

         he has an idea,

             and slowly it unfolds


from under his beating wings

    as long as he stays awake.

         But his big, round music, after all,

             is too breathy to last.


So, it's over.

    In the pine-crown

         he makes his nest,

             he's done all he can.


I don't know the name of this bird,

    I only imagine his glittering beak

         tucked in a white wing

             while the clouds—


which he has summoned

    from the north—

         which he has taught

             to be mild, and silent—


thicken, and begin to fall

    into the world below

         like stars, or the feathers

               of some unimaginable bird


that loves us,

    that is asleep now, and silent—

         that has turned itself

             into snow.

More suggested mindful listening:

Mary Oliver reading her own poetry on YouTube.

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