Letters from the Lake: A Centering Before the Shift

The bags aren’t packed, the kids are bouncing, and I’m centering wherever I can.

We’re just about a week out from leaving for Camp Lenox, and life feels a little like it’s happening in fast-forward.

There are bags everywhere.

Half-packed duffel bags.

Checklists on top of checklists.

The kids bouncing between excitement and chaos.

And Anthony and I are trying to keep everything — and everyone — moving forward with some kind of rhythm.

It’s beautiful. It’s messy. And it’s definitely a test of everything I teach.

This past week has been full of transition energy — tying up private clients, wrapping class series, prepping the house, closing loops, and somehow also preparing to live on a summer camp campus for the next two months with two kids who will suddenly be more independent than ever. That part alone tugs at my heart in ways I wasn’t fully prepared for.

I’m excited — so excited — for what this summer could be. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also holding a little ache. The kids will be there with us, yes, but doing their own thing. Making their own memories. Stretching their legs. And as a mother, that’s exactly what I want… and exactly what’s so hard to let go of.

So this week, I’ve been reaching — often — for our principle of Centering.

Not just as something I cue in class, but as something I lean on when I feel unsteady.

Those little moments (you know the ones — the bathroom breaks that become micro-meditations, the five deep breaths while hiding in the laundry room, the intentional exhale before another round of packing) — those are the ones saving me right now.

When I center — really center — the noise softens.

I can see what’s mine to do, what can wait, and what doesn’t need to be perfect.

My body feels more capable. My mind more organized. My emotions less tangled.

There’s flow. Not in the everything-is-finished sense. But in the I-can-handle-this sense.

Anthony and I keep laughing about how we’ve become pros at finding peace in the most ridiculous corners of the house — but hey, it’s working. Even five minutes of grounding is enough to turn panic into presence. And from there, everything feels more possible.

That’s what Centering has offered me this week: the reminder that I don’t have to fix the chaos. I just need to come home to myself inside it.

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Next week, we’ll be deep into traveling — shifting routines, settling into new rhythms, and navigating the beautiful unpredictability that comes with being away from home.

I’ll be teaching Pilates in the Berkshires, supporting staff, connecting with an entirely new community.

And the next principle we’ll explore together will be Concentration — the art of staying with something, even in distraction. The quiet superpower of sustained presence.

I’ll have more to share from the lake soon.

But for now, thank you for being here — and for giving me this space to write, reflect, and stay connected.

Here’s to centering — even in the middle of the beautiful mess.

Read the next letter here» Letters from the Lake: The Edges Are Getting Clearer

-xo, Caroline