A Sacred Pause: Returning to Yourself This Holiday Season

We have a favorite magnolia tree at the botanical gardens that holds us so tenderly each time we visit.

She inspires us to hold you like that, too.

The fall of something deserves as much attention as the rise.

October Notes by Fritz

Honoring the Tender Fall

This reflection came to me as I noticed myself bypassing the stretch — the moment of rest — that was deeply needed after my beach walk this morning. When something is blooming or rising, it’s so easy to celebrate it. We post about it, announce it, cheer for it, share it. Growth gets spotlighted.

But when something needs to fall, release, or end… silence often creeps in. Endings can feel lonely. Like they mark failure. Like slowing down to feel what’s surfacing is too daunting or too heavy.

It shows up in the small moments, too — like the sensations that arose from my walk slowly dissipating into a soft lull, a call to recover, to be still, to breathe.

Image: hobbes napping in the magnolia tree at the Botanical Gardens

When Slowing Down Felt Impossible

There have been seasons of my life where I was moving so quickly that I couldn’t hear the invitation to pause. One thing after the next was my status quo. Rest didn’t even register as an option.

Because somewhere along the way, I absorbed the belief:

Who would want to be a failure like that?

Those protective patterns turned into stories, those stories turned into judgments, and the cycle just kept repeating…

Until one day, we get fed up with ourselves. With burnout. With “pushing through.” With abandoning our bodies just to keep up.

Our guest co-host, Ina Maka, spoke to this in her recent e-newsletter:

“An empty cup is not a failure, it’s an invitation to be filled again.”

Her year brought unexpected health complications, brain fog, and waves of depression — all of which eventually led to discovering that her home was infested with mold. A growing issue for many as climate shifts and our habitats respond. (It’s all connected, even when it seems like a tangent.)

Image: digital collage from our recent camping trip with beloveds that featured hammocking, napping, singing, dancing, tending fire and hella good food

The Moment I Chose to Fall — On Purpose

In 2021, I reached my breaking point with the grind. I quit my 9–5 and began farming full time — until my body said stop to that too. It wasn’t until I turned toward my body and the land with quiet, tenderness, and deep listening that my Cazimi practice truly began.

Sky-gazing. Daily meditation. Learning from my mentor — Millie the Cat. These small, consistent moments opened a widened collaboration with the atoms inside me and the living beings I meet each day. Hobbes, Tine, and I joke that we’re living life on “expert mode” — intentional as can be.

But the Cazimi way doesn’t require everyone to live on expert mode. It starts with one thing:

A pause.A return.A soft re-inhabiting of yourself.

Our retreats are simply an offering to begin — to honor the fall, to return to yourself before the world speeds up again, especially around the holidays when expectations, obligations, and emotional labor can pile up quickly.

Image: a sweet beachside view at our Sandbridge oasis

A Sacred Pause this Holiday Season

As the year winds down, the pressure to “finish strong,” show up for family, juggle holiday plans, and hold everyone’s feelings can make us forget our own needs. But nature teaches us that winter is not a season of output — it is a season of integration, restoration, and quiet magic beneath the soil.

Before the fullness of the holidays, we’re offering a space to come home to yourself:

Sacred Pause Retreat

December 5–8, 2025 | Sandbridge, VA Beach

A weekend to exhale. To rest. To be held by the land and water. To remember what your body feels like when it is not bracing or performing.

With guest host Ina Maka, who rarely offers retreats in the U.S. (see: Feminine Frequency) — this gathering is a special opportunity to experience her medicine in an intimate, accessible setting.

Expect:

• Rest, recovery, and time to be human

• Rituals that honor the fall + the pause

• Gentle body-centered practices

• Community connection, clarity, and softness

• And yes… likely some ass-shaking, music jams, and drums around the fire

If your body exhaled while reading this — that’s your sign.

We would love to hold you, like the magnolia tree holds us.

🔗 More details & registration:https://www.cazimicollective.com/our-offerings