Woodland Yoga

6 months.
184 days.
Half a year since you were here.

It feels like yesterday,
and somehow a lifetime ago.

My head and heart
no longer trust one another.

My head says, this is how it is.

My heart still refuses to believe it.

My head tries to console my heart.
But my heart keeps searching for you.

In the hard moments,
when breathing feels like work,
when the world spins
and everything aches…

And in the bright moments,
the unexpected sparks of joy,
the small returns of light…

It's you I reach for,
you I want to tell,
you I still look for
in every shadow and every light.

It's you I search for
in all of it.

It's you
I will always search for.

© Louise Neicho

It's been over a month since I've felt able to share anything. Christmas and New Year were harder than I thought they would be, and it's taken me a long time to find my footing. I still don't think I'm there yet.

I'm giving myself heaps of self-kindness and leaning on the beautiful people (and pup!) in my life who keep me upright. Honestly don't know where I'd be right now without them.

I'm sure I'll be back soon with more writing, but for now this is all I have to share.

Sending so much love and support to those going through similar. Although I don't know the details of your story, I know the depths of sadness the human heart is capable of, and I want you to know you're not alone.

May you find a way to be with it all. May you be gentle with yourself and may you find peace.

With love,
Louise x

Last week I shared some words about not feeling festive—thank you for all your messages. So many of you shared that this time of year feels heavy too, for all sorts of reasons.

I’ve expanded those reflections into a longer piece exploring why forced cheerfulness feels impossible when we’re struggling (there’s actual neuroscience behind it), what our ancestors understood about winter and the solstice that we’ve largely forgotten, and some gentle, research-backed strategies for navigating these next few weeks.

This is likely my last post before Christmas, so I wanted to offer something that might help you find your own way through this season—however that looks for you.

Find link in comments.

May you be gentle with yourself. May you find your own small rituals of comfort. And may you know you are not alone in the dark.

Sending love and strength for the days and weeks ahead,
Lou x

I shared some of these silly memes last year and I'm still saying wtf?!

So you won't see any "new year, new me" posts, or "2026 has to be better". Nope. It will just be me, somehow still here, putting one foot in front of the other - and honestly I'm calling that a heroic act.

Sending love to anyone who feels similar 💚

What a beautiful Winter Solstice celebration we shared yesterday 🙏

Thank you to everyone who came together to mark this time. There's something deeply nourishing about pausing in community during the turning of the year—breathing together, moving gently, and honouring the natural rhythms that hold us all.

The stillness, the shared presence... it was exactly what this moment needed.

If you were there, thank you for bringing your whole self to the space. And if you'd like to explore the meaning of the solstice further, I've gathered some recordings honouring this time, let me know if you'd like access.

May this season bring you whatever rest and renewal you need ✨

In winter, the trees stand bare,
branches exposed,
silhouettes stark against the sky.

Nothing to hide behind,
nothing extra to carry.

And yet—
there is a quiet strength in this bareness.
The trees are not “less than” without their leaves.
They are simply resting,
conserving,
preparing.

Roots deepen,
life pulses unseen.

Bare branches remind us:
it is enough to strip back to essentials,
to let go of what no longer serves,
to rest,
to pause,
to be.

Like the trees,
we too can honour seasons of bareness—
of showing up in our simplest form,
of trusting renewal will come,
because it always does.

******
© Louise Neicho, 2025

If this year has been tough,
If you’re not feeling festive right now,
If everything feels overwhelming,
If the pressure to be joyful feels impossible,
—you are not alone.

This season wasn’t always about consumption and performance. Long before tinsel and turkey, our ancestors honoured the Winter Solstice—the longest night, the deepest darkness.

They knew this wasn’t a time for forced cheerfulness, but for going inward. For finding strength in the stillness. For deep rest.

You don’t need the perfect tree,
The expensive gifts,
The flawless gathering,
To spend a fortune,
Or pretend everything is fine when it isn’t.

What you might need is permission:
✨To do things differently this year,
✨To spend time however nourishes you most—alone or with loved ones,
✨To honour where you actually are, not where you think you should be,
✨To find your own flicker of light in the darkness.

The light returns because of the darkness, not despite it.
The very thing that feels unbearable is also what makes renewal possible.

However you’re moving through this season, may you be gentle with yourself 💚

We gathered at the new Cosy Club in St Albans for our end of year celebration, and my heart is so full 💚🙏

To see so many of you gathered around one table—sharing food, laughter, and wine (and not in yoga clothes!)—was such a joy. Community truly is medicine, and I feel deeply fortunate to have you all in my life.

Thank you for being part of this beautiful circle. For showing up, for supporting one another, and for creating a space where we can all belong. I’m endlessly grateful for each of you.

Here’s to more shared moments, more connection, and more joy in 2025 ✨

It’s the time to go inwards and rest deeply but our world often doesn’t allow that. You can however find pockets of deep rest that give you the permission to go slowly and kindly with yourself.

To help with that I have just 2 spaces remaining for our Winter Solstice Celebration on Sunday 14th December, 10:00–13:00 at Kinsbourne Barn in Harpenden.

I’d love to welcome you to this 3-hour mini retreat to mark the turning point of the year - a chance to pause before the festive season sweeps us along. Together we'll go within, find deep rest, and discover the wisdom that winter has to offer.

I hope you can join us, more info via comments.
Lots of love,
Louise x

There are moments when I think I can't do this. When the weight feels too heavy, the path too unclear.

But then I'm reminded—through a text, a hug after class, a shared cup of tea, a wagging tail—that I'm not doing this alone.

The truth is, grief is lonely business. That's just its nature. But the people around me (and yes, you too Boinn!) have made it a little less so. You've shown up, checked in, held space, and kept me tethered to life when I needed it most.

November has been about remembering that connection is everything. That community isn't just nice to have—it's what carries us through.

To everyone who has been part of my coming back to life: thank you. You matter more than you know 💚