From the part of you that knows

that everything you want

exists as a seed in the infinite unknown.

​

Start from wholeness;

start from greatness.

start from the heart;

start right where you are.

​

Just start.

​

Take the first step with contentment.

Walk the path with lightness.

Steep yourself in certainty.

Permeate your vision with clarity.

​

Fill your heart with purpose,

and let love pour through your actions.

Slowly move through time and space,

and welcome all visits from Grace.

​

Start from a place

of deep inner knowing,

as you witness desire

transform into detachment.

​

Release all fears and doubts,

return to what’s pure in your heart.

Take a cup of tea with your intentions,

let them come from love and not from your aversions.

​

Start from enough

and celebrate your beginnings.

Let life show you what

we are capable of as human beings.

​

Say a prayer of gratitude

as you begin each day

and embark upon a dream.

And know that life will bring you exactly what you need.

​

January 2026

🫶🏼 Thank you for reading. You can learn more about my work and my love for words here.

If these words resonated with you or stirred something inside, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. ☺️💫

Subscribe now

Sadness is a wave that inundates us. Sometimes gentle, other times, it can crush us. The wave stirs pain—human pain. We experience both the beauty and the sorrow of our humanness.

We may try to hide from it; we may fool ourselves, thinking we can stop the wave, but waves cannot be stopped, only contained. Sooner or later, the wave will come, and when we finally surrender to it—when we stop denying its course and imminent fall—then we let it pass through us.

A feeling so quiet yet inevitable and inescapable engulfs us, relentlessly swirling inside us at our core, bringing to the surface everything we’ve tried so hard to bury in a circular motion—a whirlpool of human sorrow—and then tears follow.

Our buried thoughts, fears, and emotions finally see the light at the end of the tunnel: the portal of release—freedom. A lonely tear at times—a solitary escape. Other times, mutiny: a nostalgic river of trapped stories, memories, fears, wounds, and illusions ferociously finding its way to the light; no longer may they remain in darkness. Walls collapse, valves release: time to let go.

And then we cry. It feels so good that we hold on to the river as well. The mind knows how. “Just have sad thoughts,” it yells. On and on it goes, a faithful servant: “You want to cry; your wish is my command.” Until…

Presence comes, it wears a garment of compassion, in its heart infinite love. It quietly whispers, “It is time to let go. Let go of the river, let go of the thoughts, surrender to the wave—it knows how and when to end.”

​And so we let the wave pass through us, one final cleansing instant, and then there is calm. The wave has died. A deep breath comes in its place; it starts to fill the vacuum the wave left, where there was pain. But it still hurts, a wound that’s fresh yet clean and ready to be healed.

​And with each breath, Presence comes closer, bringing a balm of love, kind, gentle hands lovingly spreading its magic and secrets, bringing relief—and hope.

​The tears have stopped; we notice their trace on our face, their salty taste. Our inner vision is clearing, opening, widening, and we, too, can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

We are thankful for this wave, and prepare ourselves for the next.

🫶🏼 Thank you for reading. You can learn more about my work and my love for words here.

If these words resonated with you or stirred something inside, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. ☺️💫

Subscribe now

Since this is a time of new beginnings, we can place our focus on this fresh start. For many of us, this period is a time of going back; back home if we traveled for the holidays, back to our routines, to our jobs, to our eating habits, and to our lives as we usually know them. This sense of coming back brings forth different emotions and reactions: the relief of returning to the comfort of the known; the excitement of a fresh start—of being granted a clear slate; the guilt of having strayed from our good habits and routines during this time of celebrations and often excesses; and the pressure to do things right and better this time—from actually accomplishing our dreams, achieving our goals, and working harder to make all this happen.

We begin the year feeling lacking and inadequate, even if on the surface we feel motivated and inspired. It is from this sense of lack and inadequacy that our motivation and inspiration often come, unfortunately.

It doesn’t have to be that way; we are just programmed this way.

We can still draw our visions and dreams on this clear slate that the new year gives us with a sense of sufficiency and contentment—for the pure joy of it.

We can still care for our bodies, gently shifting poor health habits into more nourishing ones.

We can still choose to make wiser financial decisions. We can start or finish the projects we abandoned, neglected, or were too scared to start in the past. We can become kinder, more compassionate, and loving human beings.

There is nothing wrong with trying to improve ourselves and our lives—it is part of our evolutionary nature, in fact. But we can do so from a place of love, and not fear or guilt.

It is always a good idea to ask ourselves why we feel inspired or motivated to do something.

Do we want to start exercising and eating more healthful foods out of respect and reverence for our bodies—or self-loathing and guilt about the way they look or about how we have been treating them?

Are we starting a low-buy challenge or committing to saving money because we want to become financially free or have a specific purpose for our money in the future that excites us and keeps us focused and motivated? Or because we feel guilty and full of shame for how much money we spent last year or how little we have in our bank account?

Are we committed to our goals, visions, and projects because of how good the idea of bringing them to life feels? Or because we feel a certain pressure to do them, or because someone else we admire is doing them? Because we—or others—think it is what we should be doing, pursuing, hustling for?

Are we inspired to become more patient, loving, generous, honest, or kind because we recognize those qualities as part of our true nature? Or is it because we feel guilt about how angry, deceitful, impatient, greedy, or stingy we’ve been in the past?

In our realm of polarities, everything has two sides. There is always more than one way of looking at things and of doing things. There is also more than one place from which we can start anything we want. The beauty of being human is that we can choose which side we focus on—which side we choose to look at. And which place we start from.

We can choose the bright side, and we can start from the light—and feeling light.

We can also choose to see the dark side of everything and anything, and we can start in the darkness, feeling the weight of our neediness, our lack, and our sense of inadequacy, along with the distance, obstacles, and time that separate us from our desires—which only become bigger, harder to overcome, longer, and more real the more we focus on them.

Things started to change as I contemplated this truth. I began to notice how everything has more than one side in our world, physically and energetically. I started to realize how I really do have the power within me to choose to look at and focus on the bright side of everything, bringing forth the light—even in the darkest of things.

The world begins to shift before our eyes as we choose to see the beauty and light in it—especially in the places where it is harder to find. And of course, we won’t always succeed at this. We are deprogramming generation after generation of choosing to see the negative and reprogramming our minds to do the opposite. This takes time and practice, but the more we do it, the easier it gets.

When I say “easier,” I am not only referring to the habit of looking at things from a positive standpoint, but to everything. Life becomes easier when we stop judging and fighting it and begin to appreciate it.

The more we appreciate what is—as it is—the closer we feel to our dreams, goals, visions, and desires. That is because we are choosing to start from a place of acceptance, contentment, gratitude, and love.

Deep, honest questions rooted in my heart arise as I adopt this worldview: How can I contribute toward what is already perfect? How can I help it grow and expand? How can I shed a light upon all the beauty and perfection that exist all around, within me, and within all things and beings? What am I here to give, receive, and share in this moment?

Just typing down these questions fills my heart with joy and excitement.

It is a motivation that comes from the truest, purest part of me. It comes from the light, and it is meant to be manifested and expressed as light. It also feels light—weightless. It is detached from the outcome and from any pressure or obligation from outer forces and sources. It feels easy, and as I’ve heard and learned before, easy is good.

These questions also create in me a sense of openness. The truth is, as I ask them, I don’t know the answers. Instead, the answers are revealed in each moment, shapeshifting as life moves, changes, and evolves. They are different for different people, moments, and situations.

Yet this sense of openness, instead of bringing uncertainty, brings us the opposite.

When our intentions are pure—coming from love and from the light—we can have absolute certainty that, in whatever way the answers are revealed, that way will be perfect. As we let go of our false need for things to be a certain way, we can relax, enjoy, and allow things to unfold and be as they are. We become teachable, open, more creative, flexible, willing, grateful, and energized.

We can still have specific dreams and visions—which, by the way, are important to have because they send out clear messages of what we want to experience, receive, create, or share—and we can become excited about the idea of seeing these visions evolve and move through and with life.

It is as if we are about to begin a walk in nature, excited about what we may encounter, perhaps with some ideas in mind depending on where we are. At the same time, a sense of curiosity, humbleness, and freedom accompanies every step, for it is impossible for us to know what, where, and when we will encounter what this walk brings us. There is also a deep inner knowing that even if we don’t see or experience any of the things we had in mind, or were hoping to, the walk on its own will be perfect—it will be enough.

This is what starting from enough means to me. It is an invitation I extend to you as you start this year. As you plant the seeds of your desires and visions in your garden, nurture and water them with openness and certainty, knowing that these seeds contain within them all that is needed for them to flourish and grow—just like you. Open your heart to the endless possibilities they carry, and open your eyes to the beauty and perfection that already exist within all things and all moments.

How do you want to help this beauty and perfection expand as you gently, joyfully, softly, and trustingly move through this year?

Thanks for reading. Here you can find out more about my work and my love for words.

I also wrote a poem inspired by wholesome beginnings: Start from Enough

Subscribe now

​As winter invites nature to rest,
to quiet and freeze in time.
When bright colors fade
and animals hide.

When the tree has lost its leaves,
and it’s given enough shade,
enough fruits, enough stories and whispers.
When it stands still, its branches bare.

When flowers wither,
and our feet on the ground
become the only sound
for miles and miles around.

When sunlight is a treasure
captured in ice,
and all there’s left to do
is keep our bodies and hearts warm.

What if then, we could also rest?
Like the squirrel who has enough food,
and the bear who’s seen enough change,
the turtles, frogs, and lizards

that know they’ve got enough warmth
and sun to sleep the season away.
What if we also knew we’ve done enough,
we’ve seen enough, we’ve tried enough,

that we are enough?

What if we let the past fall,
like the leaves on the tree,
and let the sun shine through our bare spirits?
Sunrises and sunsets coloring our aura.

​What if we lay under a blanket of stillness,
wholeheartedly knowing
it’s time to rest—
to curl up and cuddle our visions and dreams?

And like the flower,
let them bloom and flourish,
and share their fragrance and stories
When the time is ripe, when we feel nourished.

Yes, it’s time to hibernate.

​Hold the changes, the moments,
the lessons and gifts close to your heart;
as your soul closes her eyes,
let your spirit slowly and gently rise.

When it’s time—only when it’s time.

Erika Leguel, December 2025

Subscribe now

Don’t worry, you are not alone. In fact, you’re far from it. You are a human in a fast-paced world that rarely showed us the importance and power of slowing down—up until now.

There’s a rebellious movement rising, countercultural yet deeply intuitive, and appealing to those of us who are ready to push the brake on this spinning wheel of to-dos, responsibilities, demands, duties, and guilt that doesn’t seem to stop. The Slow Living movement.

If you are like me, you are captivated and mesmerized by the many reels, videos, and stories of brave individuals who have left the hecticness of big cities, moved to rural or less crowded locations, and seem to have found the secret to slowing down and savoring life. I am a faithful consumer of this content.

Reading about or watching those who have so courageously resisted the desire for more and found joy in less is both motivating and inspiring. But it didn’t always used to be this way. It once created a sense of craving and yearning in me that walked very closely alongside envy and comparison.

As I look into the lives of those who are slowing down, these questions naturally arise from this well-meaning, often fast-pumping heart: How can I begin to slow down right where I am now? How can I adopt the romantic rhythms of the countryside and a creative job while I live in a city apartment and occasionally commute to work? How can I resist the desire for more and embrace the power of doing and having less? How do I know what less means for me in the first place? What can I learn from all the slow-movement enthusiasts and adapt to my life, instead of trying to be like them and replicating their exact efforts—or lack thereof, in many cases?

The answers emerge from the wise part of me, the countless stories that bear testimony to this movement and way of living, and the ancient wisdom of different cultures, traditions, and masters. And it is beautiful to see how these three sources not only complement one another, but perfectly align.

Pause

If we are to savor and enjoy life—which is the main goal and gift of slowing down, in my opinion—we must first pause.

Pause, first and foremost, to be thankful for this calling to slow down and for what it entails. The need to slow down and own less can only come after having done too much and having more than enough, which often started as blessings that we turned into burdens.

We pause and say thank you because we have the privilege of saying: I have too much: too much stuff, too many responsibilities, and too many demands from my job (which can, of course, be parenting, caregiving for a family member, or anything you consider work) and from my personal life. We can say:

I am grateful for all that I have; my work, my personal life, and everything in between. I am ready to release the burdens I have placed on myself, and I am willing to see and embrace the blessings hidden beneath each burden and story in my life.

Then, we pause to take inventory of the area of our life we want to start simplifying (I truly believe it is easier to simplify one area at a time). Experts often recommend starting by simplifying our physical environment, and from experience, I tend to agree. This doesn’t mean you need to become a minimalist before you can enjoy the fruits of slow living, but acknowledging that clutter complicates things, demands space and time, and can rob us of our peace.

So we pause, face reality with courage, compassion, and grace, and accept that perhaps we do have too much stuff or too many items on our ever-increasing to-do lists. Whatever area of your life or your environment you are ready to start with, take inventory of that area first.

Sit with what you have, physically or on your plate, at this moment, and start by forgiving yourself for allowing it to get to a point where it feels hard, or even impossible, to manage. It’s okay. You are human, and most of us have found ourselves here more than once. What matters is your willingness and courage to take the first step.

Allow any emotions that emerge when facing reality to be present. Avoid feeding them with thoughts, and when you are ready, let them go.

Let Go

Now it’s time to start the process of letting go. As I mentioned above, we first start by letting go of the emotions that accompany the process of simplifying, which often are guilt, fear, overwhelm, and a sense of inadequacy.

Dr. David R. Hawkins wrote a whole book dedicated to the technique of letting go, which I briefly described above and can be simplified as follows: Notice what’s present. Allow it to be. Do not feed the emotion. Let it go. I cannot recommend this book enough if you are ready to simplify your life at all levels: Letting Go: The Pathway of Surrender.

It is worth mentioning that the process of letting go is ongoing and ever-present when we are honest with ourselves and have a true desire to simplify and enjoy life.

Generally, we let go of fears, attachments, expectations, old programs, negative emotions, unnecessary activities and things—and in some cases, even relationships, professions, and ultimately our identities.

Only you know what you are ready to let go of and where you would like to start. But let go we must if we want to simplify our lives, starting with letting go of the fear of letting go.

I am willing to let go of anything that no longer serves me.

Do and Have Less

It is when we embrace the concept of less, when we begin to savor the riches of pausing and letting go, that we can finally slow down and clearly see the landscape and beauty before our eyes.

Slowing down, it turns out, is not about moving slower—although you will now have the freedom to do so if you choose. It is, however, about not rushing through life, about savoring it, and moving at a pace that is natural for us. That pace will vary not only for each of us, but also on different occasions and stages in our lives. Natural rhythms can, and sometimes do, move fast, but they are never rushed. Nothing in nature is ever rushed.

Most of us, however, were rushed as children. I know I was painfully slow for my mom, and I don’t blame her, like me, she grew up in a rushed world. A sense of hurry and urgency has been injected into us since we were very small. I think most of us adults who live or work with children have been guilty of hurrying, or being tempted to hurry, a child at some point. Sometimes it is necessary to redirect them when they get distracted, but we could often avoid hurrying them altogether if we gave them enough realistic time to accomplish what we asked them to do at their own pace.

More often than not, though, we ask them to do too many things, at an unrealistic pace and level of focus, in a distracting environment, and within a relatively short period of time—just the way we were pushed to move and live while growing up.

We treat ourselves the same way we were treated as children. If we were rushed and pushed to do more and be more, now we have an inner voice constantly pushing us to do and be more—and to hurry up!

We think we have no choice but to move at a frantic pace. We blame our jobs, our family lifestyle, the cities we live in, or our partner or spouse. The truth is, we are the only ones who can have control over our overfilled schedules, never-ending lists, and the relentless speed at which we move. We have more freedom than we are led to believe: we can always say no.

And yes, saying no means letting go. Maybe we’ll need to let go of our need for approval and validation and say no to our boss, colleagues, or clients every now and then. Maybe we’ll need to reconsider some of the activities we want our families to engage in, or our desire for things to be perfect for them. Maybe we’ll need to let go of that extra half-hour of sleep so we can enjoy a sense of calm during our morning routine—which might mean letting go of that extra half-hour of TV or scrolling on our phones the night before.

There will always be something to let go of if we want to become guardians of our time and our peace.

Perhaps the first thing we’ll need to let go of is that sense of hurry that permeates our days. Maybe we need to sit with the part of us that is constantly pushing and rushing us and say, “Hey, thank you for always pushing me to do and be more, to not waste time, and to keep up with others. I know your intentions are good, but from now on, I’ll decide at what pace I move and what things I say yes to.”

As I mentioned before, you—and only you—know what needs to go so you can start living at a pace that is sustainable and allows for peace and enjoyment.

Once we take inventory of our things, the items on our to-do lists, our commitments, attachments, and the voices in our head that tell us there is no time to stop—and let go of some of that—we start to recognize what is essential: what matters most to us, and why.

Now we become sentinels of our essentials: the things, activities, people, and commitments that add value to our lives and to which we add value. We protect them by honestly and carefully recognizing what is nonessential and letting go of it, gently and kindly saying no.

Some essentials may not be our favorite things in the world, but as long as they are essential, they must remain in our lives, and we must make space for them.

Make Space

Give yourself enough time to do the things that matter to you.

As we move through the process of slowing down—hopefully gently and compassionately—we find ourselves with less: less stuff, less crowded schedules, less pressure. Now it’s time to make time. To give ourselves the gift of time.

Cal Newport, in his book Slow Productivity: The Lost Art of Accomplishment Without Burnout, suggests that we block twice as much time as we originally estimated to do the things we want or need to do. As he eloquently puts it, this allows us to make “plans that can be completed at a more leisurely pace.” He asserts, and I agree, that we humans tend to be very optimistic about how long things take. Even though his book focuses mostly on knowledge work, I think this is true for everything. Why else would we keep adding things to our lists if we didn’t believe—or at least hope—we could squeeze them in somehow?

So whatever it is you want to include in your day, give yourself enough time to do it. Twice as much as you think.

Life happens. And we want life to happen! That’s why we are here. It is in those unpredictable moments that magic and synchronicity often appear. We want to have the time to talk to the person next to us while waiting in line. We want to make space to comfort our children when they fall. We must learn to accept that if we are sitting in traffic or we miss our train, it is because that was meant to happen—even if we can’t see why. It is easier to accept these setbacks when we give ourselves the extra time to do so.

I love words. See how we say “we give ourselves,” meaning no one else can give us the extra time, or permission, to move at a more natural pace and in tune with the ups and downs and rhythms of life.

So give yourself the gift of an unhurried, well-lived, and enjoyed life.

I know it might seem impossible at first. The list of excuses may be almost as long as our to-do lists, and yet, once we let go of the endless reasons why we cannot put a stop to our frenzied pace and unnatural rhythms, we can finally begin the journey toward simplicity and slowing down; the journey back to ourselves, to our true nature.

I know it is possible because I am on that journey myself. Once I let go of my resistance to stop—to stop buying things I don’t need, to stop doing for the sake of doing, to stop rushing, and to stop telling myself why I couldn’t stop—time began to move at a different speed.

I had been running most of my life. From what, and toward what? I don’t know. All I know is that once we stop running, everything around us begins to settle. Our vision is no longer blurry; we have clarity. Our heart and our breathing begin to adjust to our unhurried pace. We begin to notice what we once passed by while running. We stumble less, spill fewer things, and falls don’t hurt as much. We can listen better, and hear what was once lost, including our own still inner voice. We can allow ourselves to feel what is present. And we can give ourselves the time and space to enjoy our lives and to face challenges with acceptance and grace.

I just recently began this journey, although it had been calling me for a while, and I can honestly say I am already reaping the fruits along the way and noticing the difference. If this is true for me, it can be true for you.

I consider myself an aspiring essentialist—not a minimalist or an accomplished slow-life practitioner by any means. I still have what many would consider too many clothes and shoes, and I do not necessarily travel light. I still feel a sense of hurry every now and then, or the guilt of “not doing anything” when I rest. Yet I am learning to be okay with this, and to not obsess over the amount of things I have or compare myself to others, which only brings feelings of guilt and inadequacy. Instead, I am committed to keep on letting go of what no longer serves me or adds value to my life or others, to not keep acquiring more stuff or saying yes to unnecessary or joyless activities, and to guiltlessly slow down.

So even though I am not “there yet,” this sense of self-acceptance and commitment to an unhurried life fills me with lightness and calm.

At the end of the day, trends, numbers, our location, profession, or lifestyle are irrelevant. What matters is living a life committed to simplicity, enjoyment, peace, service, love, and beauty—wherever you are in your journey, whatever you do for a living, and whatever landscape you see through your window. A life where we choose to slow down and simplify from a serene place of acceptance and compassion, instead of a desperate place of self-loathing and comparison, and to give ourselves the time, space, and permission to do so.

What are you ready to let go of so that you, too, can start this journey?

You might also find inspiration in Greg McKeown’s book Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less, which explores the power of focusing on what truly matters, and in my blog post, The Power of Pausing: Enjoying the Magic in the Gaps, where I share practical ways to find presence and meaning in everyday life

If you feel the call to slow down, to let go, and to return to your Self, I invite you to explore my work. Together, we can create space for stillness and clarity, and discover practices that help you live more fully, simply, and in alignment with your true nature.