Returning to Balance in the Heat

Summer has arrived in full force.

The air is heavy. The humidity wraps itself around everything, and even going for a walk feels like work. I know I need to adjust. Instead of waiting until later in the day, I need to be outside first thing in the morning while the world is still quiet and cool.

My goal is 10,000 steps a day, yet lately I rarely get there. I’ve realized something about myself. I’m a fair-weather person. Spring and fall feel like home to me. As someone with a pitta constitution, too much heat throws me out of balance. My energy drops, my motivation fades, and I feel it in every part of my being.

Whenever something feels off, Ayurveda teaches us to begin with a simple question:

What am I eating?

Before assuming something is wrong with my life, I look at my food. Am I nourishing myself? Am I eating enough fresh, cooling foods? Am I giving my body what it truly needs?

Lately, I’ve also noticed something else.

There is a heaviness trying to creep in.

Not a full depression, but the beginning of one. A subtle feeling. A loss of enthusiasm. A tendency to worry without knowing exactly why.

I am sensitive. I feel other people’s emotions. Sometimes I carry things that don’t even belong to me.

This is when I have to remind myself:

The mind lies. The body knows.

If I stay isolated when my mind is in that place, it simply talks louder. It tells stories that aren’t true. It magnifies problems that may not even exist.

The answer isn’t to listen to the mind.

It’s to return to the body.

A few days ago my daughter and the grandchildren were here. The house was full of laughter, little footsteps, conversations, and life. It filled me up in a way I didn’t even realize I needed.

Then they left.

The house became quiet again.

I genuinely enjoy my alone time, but I’ve learned something important over the years.

Anything taken to an extreme creates imbalance.

Too much busyness leaves me exhausted.

Too much solitude can leave me disconnected.

Too much food makes my body heavy.

Too much wine dulls my awareness.

Too much sleep steals my energy instead of restoring it.

Extremes create pain.

Moderation creates health.

When I notice myself beginning to spiral, self-care isn’t a luxury anymore.

It’s my responsibility.

Sometimes the most loving thing I can do is simply sit quietly and scan my body.

How am I really feeling?

What do I need?

Not what does my mind want…

What does my body need?

Maybe I need better food.

Maybe I need movement.

Maybe I need sunshine before the heat arrives.

Maybe I need to call a friend.

Maybe I simply need to be with people instead of withdrawing.

Writing helps me discover the answer. Once the words are on paper, I can see what my body has been trying to tell me all along.

I have deep faith.

But faith without action changes very little.

Healing asks us to participate.

To notice.

To respond.

To choose.

Yoga and Ayurveda have never been about becoming perfect.

They are practices of awareness.

The moment we notice ourselves drifting away from balance is the moment we can gently return.

Without judgment.

Without guilt.

Simply by asking,

What do I need today?

Sometimes the answer is as simple as an earlier morning walk, a nourishing meal, a conversation with a friend, or a few quiet breaths.

Small changes, made early, prevent bigger suffering later.

Balance is rarely found by doing more.

It is found by becoming more aware.

And awareness gives us the opportunity, every single day, to come home to ourselves.