We often think of strength as being able to push through, keep going, have all the answers and handle everything ourselves. We celebrate the people who seem unstoppable, who always know what they’re doing and who never let anything get to them.
But what if real strength looks a little different?
What if it’s knowing when to pause, recognising your own patterns, asking for help and choosing not to react to every thought or feeling that comes your way?
This November, our Focus of the Month takes inspiration from Hanumān, a powerful figure in Hindu mythology, and explores what it means to be a force of nature. Not through force or ego, but through devotion, awareness, humility and love.
The stories we tell ourselves
How often do you find yourself reacting to something before you’ve even had a chance to think?
Someone sends a message that feels a little off, and suddenly you’re overthinking what you said. A colleague gives you feedback, and you immediately feel defensive. You make a mistake, and your inner critic is already telling you that you should have known better.
These reactions can feel automatic because, often, they are. Our minds develop patterns over time, shaped by past experiences, fears and beliefs about ourselves. Some of these patterns help us navigate the world. Others keep us stuck in the same cycles.
The practice of metacognition is simply the ability to notice your own thinking while it’s happening. Rather than getting completely swept up in a thought, you begin to recognise it as a thought.
Instead of immediately reacting to that message, you pause and ask yourself why it has upset you. Instead of assuming that one mistake means you’ve failed, you notice the story your mind is creating around it.
You create a little space between what happens and how you respond.
And that space matters.
It gives you the opportunity to choose your next step rather than automatically falling back into an old habit. You might still feel frustrated, anxious or disappointed, but you don't have to let that feeling make every decision for you.
This is something we practise on the mat, too. You notice your mind wandering during a sequence, your frustration when a pose feels difficult, or the urge to compare yourself to the person next to you. The work isn't to stop these thoughts from appearing. It's to notice them, without judgement, and gently bring your attention back.
Over time, that awareness becomes something you can carry with you long after class has finished.
Hanumān: strength rooted in love
In Hindu mythology, Hanumān is a figure associated with extraordinary strength, courage, wisdom and devotion. He is famously known for his unwavering loyalty to Rāma and for his ability to accomplish what seems impossible.
One of the most interesting parts of his story is that Hanumān is said to forget his own powers. He doesn't walk around trying to prove how strong he is or seeking recognition for what he can do. His abilities come to the fore when they are needed, guided by his devotion and his desire to serve something greater than himself.
There's something worth reflecting on here.
How much of our energy goes into proving ourselves?
We want to be good at our jobs, successful in our relationships, strong in our bodies and confident in our decisions. We want people to recognise our efforts and reassure us that we're doing well. And when we don't receive that validation, it's easy to question our worth.
Hanumān offers a different perspective. His strength isn't about being the most impressive person in the room. It's about what he puts that strength towards.
In yoga, this connects to seva, which means selfless service. It asks us to consider how we can use what we have to support others, rather than making everything about our own achievements.
In everyday life, this doesn't have to mean grand gestures. It might be showing up for a friend when they're having a difficult time, helping someone without expecting anything in return, or being willing to admit that you don't have all the answers.
It might even mean recognising that you need support yourself.
Being strong doesn't mean doing everything alone. Sometimes, strength is allowing someone else to help you.
The courage to let go
In the Yoga Sutras, Patañjali discusses siddhis, often translated as extraordinary powers or abilities that may arise through spiritual practice. The teaching warns against becoming attached to these experiences or mistaking them for the ultimate goal of yoga.
Put simply, it's easy to get distracted by the things that make us feel special.
We might become attached to how advanced a pose looks, how flexible we've become, how much weight we can lift or how disciplined our routine appears. Even our yoga practice can become another way to measure ourselves against others.
There's nothing wrong with enjoying progress or feeling proud of what you've achieved. The question is what happens when achievement becomes the reason we practise.
Do we still value the practice when we can't do the pose? Can we appreciate our bodies when they're tired? Can we show up without needing every session to be productive or impressive?
This idea reaches far beyond yoga.
We can become attached to job titles, relationships, money, appearance or the approval of other people. We start believing that if we can just achieve the next thing, we'll finally feel enough.
But there will always be another goal, another milestone or another person to compare ourselves with.
Letting go doesn't mean giving up on what matters to you. It means learning to pursue it without allowing your achievements to define your worth.
You can work hard without needing to prove yourself. You can celebrate progress without becoming attached to it. You can care deeply about something while accepting that the outcome isn't entirely within your control.
That, too, takes practice.
Working with your energy
Another important idea in yoga is prāṇa, often described as the life force or vital energy that moves through us. Breath is one of the ways we work with and become more aware of this energy in our practice.
Think about how your breath changes throughout the day.
When you're rushing to get somewhere, it might become shallow and quick. When you're stressed, you might notice yourself holding your breath without realising it. When you're relaxed and feel safe, your breathing often becomes slower and easier.
Our bodies and minds are constantly responding to what's happening around us.
We are drawn towards certain people, experiences and opportunities, while instinctively resisting others. Sometimes those responses are useful. At other times, they're influenced by old fears, assumptions or habits that no longer serve us.
Yoga gives us an opportunity to observe these movements without immediately acting on them.
You might notice that you always push harder when a pose becomes uncomfortable, even when backing off would be more appropriate. You might realise that you avoid stillness because sitting with your thoughts feels difficult. Or perhaps you find yourself rushing through every transition, even when there's nowhere else you need to be.
Rather than trying to control every sensation or force yourself into a particular state, you practise paying attention.
Notice the inhale. Notice the exhale. Notice when you're gripping and when you're resisting. See what happens when you give yourself permission to soften.
Prāṇāyāma, the practice of working consciously with the breath, can help develop this awareness. Even a few moments of steady, comfortable breathing can offer an opportunity to pause and reconnect with the present.
The aim isn't to feel calm all the time. Life isn't always calm, and neither are we.
It's to become more familiar with your own responses, so you can meet them with greater awareness rather than being carried along by every passing thought or feeling.
The practice is in how we live
The ultimate goal of yoga is yoga itself: union. While that can be understood in different ways across the tradition, it points towards a deeper connection with ourselves, with others and with something greater than our individual sense of self.
Hanumān's story reminds us that this connection doesn't come from constantly trying to become more powerful, more impressive or more accomplished. It comes through devotion, focus and a willingness to act with love.
This is where the practice becomes something much bigger than what happens in the studio.
It's in the moment you choose to listen instead of interrupting. In the conversation where you admit you've got something wrong. In the decision to rest when your body needs it, even when your mind tells you to keep pushing. In the ability to celebrate someone else's success without turning it into a judgement about your own life.
It's in showing up for the people around you, while remembering that you don't need to have everything figured out yourself.
And it's in noticing when your ego takes over, without giving yourself a hard time for being human.
You don't have to be fearless to be courageous. You don't have to be the strongest person in the room to be strong. And you don't have to be perfect to live with intention.
Sometimes, the biggest leap is simply choosing a different response to something that has always triggered you. Sometimes, it's trusting yourself enough to take the next step without knowing exactly how things will turn out.
So, as we move through November, perhaps the invitation is to pay a little more attention. Notice your patterns. Get curious about your reactions. Practise breathing through the uncomfortable moments. Let yourself receive support, and look for opportunities to offer it to others.
Your practice this month:
The next time you notice yourself reacting automatically, pause for a breath.
Ask yourself: What's happening here, and how do I want to respond?
You might not always find an immediate answer. That's fine. The pause itself is part of the practice.
A force of nature doesn't need to fight every current or control every change in direction. Sometimes, strength is learning how to move with life, stay connected to what matters and trust that you are part of something bigger than yourself.