Braiding Sweetgrass for Young Adults

This week, I finally received the young adult version of Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer — my chosen summer read.

Are my kids interested? Not really.Does it matter? Not really.But it’s a book they’ll see around the house, and maybe one day, they’ll pick it up. Sometimes that’s how seeds are planted.

The Book That Made Me Pause

As I flicked through the pages, I loved the photos and illustrations that my original copy didn’t have — they make the book feel alive.There were highlighted quotes everywhere, true nuggets of wisdom.

And then I read the first page:

“The land is the real teacher. All we need as students of the land is mindfulness. Paying attention is a form of reciprocity with the living world and receiving the teaching with open eyes, open mind, and an open heart.”

I closed the book, placed it on my chest, and shut my eyes.I needed to let the words sink into my heart.They echoed inside me, and as I let them move through my thoughts, I could feel a quiet chain reaction — like falling dominoes of understanding.

Nature teaches us through mindfulness.

And I realised how this mirrors what we do in yoga — paying attention to the body, to the breath, to the thoughts that arise and fade. It’s the same practice, just a different classroom.

Between Languages and Worlds

I’ve always been more of an observer than a talker. Maybe that’s my nature — or maybe it’s how I was shaped.

I grew up in France, surrounded by two heritages.Life outside was French; at home, everything had a Greek flavour.But my siblings and I didn’t really speak Greek — just enough to say hello, goodbye, and maybe ask for more food.

When we visited Greece, I often didn’t understand what people were saying. So I watched. I read gestures, faces, tone — a kind of silent translation.

Maybe that’s why, when I came to the UK at nineteen, even though my English was better than my Greek, I still had that same sense of standing just outside a conversation — watching, listening, learning to read between the lines.

Later, when I travelled through Mexico, Guatemala, and Burkina Faso, I found myself doing the same thing: observing, guessing, connecting through body language and shared smiles. Sometimes, that’s how we learn the most — by paying attention to what’s not said.

Motherhood, My Greatest Teacher

Then came motherhood — the deepest initiation into listening.With my first child, I learned quickly that she would teach me how to be a mother. I had to tune in, watch closely, listen without words.

Even now, as much as I want to share my wisdom or “teach” my children, I know that our best moments happen when I stop talking and start listening. That’s when real connection grows.

Yoga as the Art of Listening

Every week, when I guide a class, I remind myself — and my students — that yoga isn’t about perfect postures. It’s about listening.Listening to what the body is whispering.Listening to how the breath moves.Listening to the emotions beneath the surface.

Because the more we learn to listen on the mat, the better we listen everywhere else — to others, to nature, and to life itself.

As the Dalai Lama said:

“When you talk, you are only repeating what you already know. But if you listen, you may learn something new.”

A quiet reflection

So here’s a small invitation for you:Next time you walk outside, roll out your mat, or sit with someone you love — pause and listen.Let the world teach you something new.