October 2026
The Space in Between: a Letter on Transitions
Dear Yogis/Yoginis ,
Today I had lunch with a dear friend. She told me about a loved one who is slowly moving toward death, what we yogis like to call transitioning. She spoke of the sweet, abundant memories, the joy, the love, a life well lived, all of it held alongside the tenderness of being human. Our conversation was, as always, rich and loving. We were both so grateful for a spiritual practice that can hold us in moments like this.
Because that is what it is: a transition. We have been walking toward it since the moment we were born, and still we speak of it in whispers, as though the word itself were a bad omen. The yogis never saw it that way. Patanjali names the fear of death, abhinivesha, as one of the oldest human struggles, one that touches even the wise. So if it visits you, you are in good company. The practice does not ask us to be fearless. It asks us to look gently at what we fear.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead speaks to this beautifully. It describes the Bardo, the in-between, and it is read aloud to the dying so that they are never alone and never unprepared. But its real invitation is for the living: to use our time more consciously, to remember what matters most, and to live with fewer regrets and more respect for all forms of life.
The Bhagavad Gita offers a quiet comfort too: the soul is never born and never dies, and the body is only a garment we set down. Ram Dass said it simply: "We're all just walking each other home." I love that. It takes the loneliness out of the journey.
Perhaps this is why we practice. Every Shavasana is a small rehearsal in letting go. In Yoga Nidra we rest at the threshold between waking and sleep, and discover we can soften without disappearing. In Kundalini yoga, the mantra Sa Ta Na Ma carries the whole cycle within it: birth, life, death, rebirth. Chanted or whispered, it reminds us that nothing is ever truly lost, only transformed.
So to you my dear friend and to anyone in our community who needs it, I send the poem The Dash by Linda Ellis. It asks us to consider how we spend the little line between the dates, and I can think of no better question to carry on the mat or off it.
So let's practice on, with the body, of course, but never without the spirit. Each time we show up, we build stamina, joy, clarity, strength, PRESENCE and the quiet sense of purpose that makes life's demands feel more manageable. Together, yet each on our very own path.
-Evelyne
