Falling Into Rhythm... Are You Dancing?

Burn Bright, Not Out

Hello friends!

Here we are—September. There’s a new crispness in the air, and something subtle has shifted.The summer mood has slipped away, and structure is quietly taking root. But maybe that’s not something to resist.

Because the right structure—the kind we choose with intention—can give shape to the life we actually want. It can hold space for both the plan and the magic. The boundaries and the breakthroughs. The checklist and the spark.

What if structure allowed us to move forward into rhythm?

Because effort doesn’t have to mean depletion. When aligned with joy and presence, effort can be energizing. There’s a kind of rhythm that sharpens us. There’s a focus that feels like flow.

For me, it’s been a journey.

When I was overworking, I was running on guilt and fear—shoulds that eventually burned me out. So I swung the other way. I rejected intensity, created space, and discovered that life was already beautiful. But I kept myself in a small bubble—soft, slow, relearning who I was.

Now, I feel ready to be all those things out in the open: a loving wife, a present mother, a hustling entrepreneur, a creative meditation teacher, and a kind, fun friend.

The difference isn’t in doing more or less—it’s in the fuel. Not fear, but abundance. Not guilt, but joy. Of course, fear and guilt still show up, but they no longer cancel out the love and joy that carry me.

I want to burn bright with this new fuel. And I’ve learned that the difference between burning out and burning bright is the fuel we choose. Boundaries help direct that fuel, so it feeds the fire steadily instead of consuming us whole.

Boundaries, surprisingly, help us soften. They let us put the laptop away after the email gets sent. They let us show up to class, or the gym, or the page—without the noise of deciding every time. They hold the line so we can let go.

Maybe it’s even a good thing that we don’t let ourselves sip espresso at 4 p.m. year-round or chase the sun like it’s our only job. Because some boundaries don’t restrict us. They help us become better versions of ourselves. They keep the flame steady—bright, not burnt.

As author Prentis Hemphill beautifully says: “Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and me simultaneously.

And structure? It’s really just a series of gentle boundaries—small choices that add up. And when chosen with care, it becomes a quiet form of self-love.

This fall, I’ve been experimenting with structure—not to control every moment, but to reflect the life I actually want. I’ve found a rhythm in my week: space at the start, focus in the middle, closure at the end. It’s not rigid. It’s rhythm. And knowing what belongs where helps me let go when the time comes.

So this fall, I’m asking:

  • How can I let structure be supportive, not restrictive?

  • How can rhythm—chosen, not imposed—bring me alive?

  • Where can I allow both discipline and delight to live in the same breath?

What’s your beat?

Classes

  • Willow Workplace: Garden Yoga Flow
    Join me for vinyasa-style classes held outdoors in Willow’s gorgeous garden!
    Fridays at 9:30 AM · Sept 19 & 26. Oct TBD
    WillowWorkplace Garden, Menlo Park
    The first class is free! Following classes are free for Willow members or $25 for non-members via Venmo. Wear layers and bring your mat!

  • Willow Workplace: Drop In Meditation

    A short and spacious mid-day visual meditation to reset your week. Open to beginners and experienced students alike. Message me to join.
    Tuesdays · Sept 23, 30 · 12:00–12:30 PM
    WillowWorkplace, Menlo Park

  • Fall Visual Meditation 7-Class Series (closed)

    We kicked off yesterday with the 1st chakra covering foundational tools of visual meditations. The next visual meditation series will start in January.

  • The Grounded Leader (Pilot Program)
    Learn to build your own GPT coach from a place of grounding and inner clarity. Currently looking for pilot participants—reach out if this sparks your curiosity.

Your talents aren’t here to be ground down. They’re here to be lived.

With love,
Mathilde