October 2025 UB Practice Calendar
I’ve been sitting in the mess of being not ok.
And honestly? Some days, I don’t want to sit in it. I want to skip straight to the part where I’m wise and glowing and have learned all the lessons. I want the shortcut, the fast-forward button, the “oh look, everything worked out fine” ending.
But instead—here I am. Heavy, cracked open, carrying more than I know how to, angry that I can’t package all of this (gestures around) easily into something that I understand . Naming that it’s hard feels both terrifying and vital. Like ripping the mask off and muttering, “Fine, you win. I’m not ok.”
It’s not poetic. It’s not polished. It’s just the truth.
a reluctant, infuriating practice of acceptance
Here’s the thing about acceptance that I’m trying to, you guessed it, accept: it’s not some enlightened mountaintop. It’s admitting what is, even when you’d rather scroll past it. It’s breathing into the grief, the rage, the loneliness—without demanding they hurry up and leave. It’s letting your soft, animal body admit what is true.
Non-attachment, turns out, isn’t sexy either. It’s unclenching your fist from the outcome you were sure you deserved. It’s loosening your grip on “how it should be” and instead muttering, “Well, I guess this is where we are.” Or for me, what is worse, is getting the outcome you wanted and finding out it didn’t make you feel how you wanted. It didn’t fix anything in the end.
somatic truth-telling
The body knows when you’re lying. Mine usually calls me out before I’m even halfway through my performative denial–victimhood routine. I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin, or I wake up in a panic, or that little twinge in my back starts screaming at me. And some days, I ignore it all. I keep the shitty mood I woke up in all to myself, thank you very much.
But it’s not always just the moods I cling to. Sometimes the heaviness isn’t mine to choose—it’s the environment I’m in, the sharp edges of being human, the weight of a world that feels cracked open. Some days it’s me. Some days it’s everything around me. Most days, it’s both.
Eventually, though, the pressure builds, the solitude gets dull, and I start craving a crack in the walls I swore were impenetrable. As infuriating as it is taking a breath, sinking into myself, stepping outside, or rolling out my mat always fucking helps. I fight this. I side-eye the predictability of it. Because even when it helps, my mood doesn’t magically lift, and the world doesn’t stop pressing in.
But what does happen is a kind of space. Space I didn’t think I had. Space to explore, to shift into, to unfurl. Space to be a little more honest and a little more accepting of who I am—inside the things I choose and the situations that choose me.
a breath to anchor you
For the days when life feels like too much (everyday?), here’s a practice to keep in your pocket:
Look at the back of your hand.
Place your pointer finger from your other hand beneath your thumb.
As you trace up the side of your thumb, inhale.
As you trace down the other side, exhale.
Keep going, finger by finger—inhale on the climb, exhale on the descent.
It’s ridiculously simple. But it works. Try it at your desk, in the car drop-off line, in between emails. Anywhere overwhelm sneaks in.
affirmation
“I don’t have to be ok to be whole.”
Tuck that one into your toolkit for the shadowy days.
Because this month isn’t about fixing or faking. It’s about truth-telling—even when you hate the truth. It’s about sitting inside the not-ok and allowing what is true to be there too.
With tenderness and care,
Mary
📅 This month’s calendar is an invitation to root into self. Every day, you’ve got a class to meet you where you are.
🖨️ Download your October calendar to print, or use the clickable version to start your practice today.
💬 Tell us what’s helping you stay rooted this month @theunderbellyyoga.
