I hate fasting.
There, I said it. It makes me hangry, intensifies cravings, and generally turns me into someone I don't recognize. So when friends kept raving about juice fasting, I resisted. Hard.
But here's the thing about being over 40 — your body starts sending you different memos. The yogic techniques I'd relied on for years weren't cutting it anymore. The macrobiotic brown rice fasts that used to work beautifully? Now they left me more congested, not less.
Something had changed. And I needed to listen.
The Setup That Made All the Difference
After one spectacular failure (trying to juice fast while maintaining my full client schedule — spoiler alert: total disaster), I knew I had to approach this differently.
This time, I cleared my calendar. No intensive sessions, no commutes, no retreats. Just space. I picked a week when my neighbors were away, leaving me with their two adorable dogs and a quiet house in Bali. The weather was mild, the setting peaceful.
The protocol: Three days of alkaline eating to prep, five days of juice only, then a gentle return to solid foods.
And you know what? The part I was dreading most — the middle of the fast — turned out to be the most beautiful.
Day 1-2: Reality Check
The first couple of days humbled me quickly. Mild headache, fatigue, and the realization that my brain operates differently when my body is working overtime to detox.
I rescheduled client sessions. I gave myself permission to float between tasks instead of my usual laser focus. I made homemade vegetable broth because warm liquids felt necessary among all the cold juices.
Lesson #1: Your productivity expectations need to shift when you're asking your body to do deep work.
Day 3: The Massage That Changed Everything
By day three, I was feeling surprisingly smooth. The key? I got a lymphatic drainage massage.
Game. Changer.
I floated out of there, and something shifted. The gentle movement helped my system start the deeper elimination process. I continued with dry brushing, light treadmill walking, even brief dancing when the mood struck.
Lesson #2: Gentle action during detox isn't optional — it's strategic.
Day 4: When Vata Takes Over
Here's where it got interesting. My body felt more alive than it had in months, but mentally? I entered what Ayurveda calls "vata aggravation" — a quality of air and ether that creates lightness, not fog.
Ideas flowed like water. Connections sparked everywhere. But my usual structured focus? Scattered to the wind.
I could still show up for clients (focus is a trained muscle), but my approach was more intuitive, less systematic. For someone who built her success on efficiency, this felt... weird. But valuable.
Lesson #3: Different states of being access different kinds of intelligence.
Day 5: The Wisdom of Slow Living
I couldn't believe I'd made it to day five. The cravings hit hard when I walked into a supermarket to buy fruit for the next day — a true Pavlovian moment surrounded by all the foods I enjoy.
But something beautiful was happening. My system was requesting more integration time. More space between activities. More rest that wasn't just physical, but mental and emotional.
This reminded me of early pandemic days — that forced slowness many of us initially resisted but later found surprisingly generative. Soft, creative, inward-focused.
Lesson #4: Sometimes the most strategic thing you can do is stop strategizing.
The Integration Surprise
Coming off the fast brought its own lessons. Day one of fruit-only eating was worse than not eating at all — my body clearly doesn't thrive on that much quick sugar. Adding vegetables helped, but interestingly, I had more cravings during integration than during the actual fast.
The detox had recalibrated my system. I became more sensitive to alcohol, fried foods, spicy meals — all signs that my internal intelligence had reset.
What This Taught Me About Working With Your Body
Your body isn't your enemy. We often push through physical signals because we fear slowing down means falling behind. But sustainable high performance requires honoring your body's cycles, not fighting them.
Different paces access different wisdom. My usual structured, efficient mode is excellent for execution and client delivery. But this slower, more spacious state revealed insights and connections I couldn't access at my usual speed.
Timing matters more than we think. I'd planned to do a half-year review around my birthday but couldn't find the "right time." The detox created that space naturally. Without forcing, everything aligned.
The Real Transformation
The physical reset was just the beginning. As I finished the detox, I transitioned into a mental and emotional one — finally doing that half-year review I'd been putting off.
Sometimes when we stop pushing so hard, life starts flowing in ways we couldn't have planned.
I'm carrying that slowness forward now. Not as a permanent state, but as a reminder that my nervous system, hormone cycles, and energy rhythms aren't obstacles to productivity — they're information systems designed to optimize my capacity.
Questions for You
- What signals has your body been sending that you've been ignoring?
- Where are you forcing performance when rest might be more strategic?
- How might honoring your natural rhythms actually improve your results?
Your body knows what it needs. But our minds resist slowing down, thinking we'll miss out or fall behind.
Sometimes the thing your body is asking for most is exactly what your mind pushes against.
And that might be the most important lesson of all.
Want to explore your own relationship with your body's wisdom? Check out My Body My Temple module of the Feminine Way Program, where I share the sustainable approach to food and body intelligence I've been developing.
You know that moment when someone challenges something you've believed your whole life?
That happened to me recently when a facilitator said something that stopped me cold: "The root of the word humility is low. Maybe we need to rethink how much we emphasize humility in our culture."
Wait. What?
I'm the person who talks about humility at every retreat. It's woven into how I think about spirituality, leadership, relationships — everything.
How did I miss this?
Turns out, yes — humility does come from the Latin humilis, meaning "low." But here's the thing: it's not about being a lowly being. It's about being close to the earth, grounded, realistic about who you are.
Think about it like this: a tree with deep roots doesn't get knocked over by wind. That's humility — not weakness, but strength that comes from being grounded in reality.
Across cultures, humility points to accurate self-positioning, openness to learning, and connection to something bigger than your ego. Modern psychology backs this up too — it's linked to better relationships, ethical behavior, and well-being.
So why do so many of us get it wrong?
The Cultural Mind Game
Here's where it gets messy. I grew up in a culture that was... let's call it paradoxical. On the surface, we practiced humility — don't show off, don't brag, stay harmonious. But underneath? A deep sense of superiority. We were better in every way; more sophisticated, more gender-equal, more respectful, more refined, more this more that. Every aspect of our lifestyle was compared to the other cultures; yet no word of that was to be uttered outside of our own environment.
Of course there are some valid reasons for this that are beyond our scope now. Yet, confusing for a child, right? The message was basically: be proud but act humble.
A client of mine had an even clearer example. Her grandiose mother would constantly tell her "don't brag, that's not nice" whenever she showed any pride in her accomplishments while she claimed the entire space for her own presence as a proffessional performer. This programmed her to keep herself small, tying her self-worth to not standing out.
Where "Humility" Becomes Self-Sabotage
I've watched this play out everywhere — in teams, relationships, workplaces. When was the last time you avoided taking responsibility under the guise of humility. Or undersell yourself. Or stay silent when you have valuable contributions.
In relationships: I spent years being over-responsible for everything that went wrong, thinking that was humble openness to learning. Really, it was a guilt trap that kept me from seeing when a relationship just wasn't right.
In leadership: I stayed silent to observe and synthesize, thinking I was being humble. I became hyper-aware of not taking up space and ended up silencing myself. That habit served me in mediation/facilitation as an external consultant, but not in leadership or co-creation roles.
In business: I've undersold myself repeatedly — at 20 when applying for leadership roles, recently when considering a position that didn't match my level of experience. Everyone else could see it except me. I got the positions back then since I was anyway overqualified, but now no more time needs to get spent for things that won’t light me up.
The Real Problem With Misconceived Humility
When you confuse humility with low self-worth, you get:
- Impostor feelings and self-doubt
- Failure to assert or promote ourselves
- Intellectual paralysis (staying silent instead of contributing)
- Vulnerability to exploitation
I've been exploited for my talents, sometimes knowingly because I thought I was "learning," but often starting from a place of self-abasement and then having to fight for my worth instead of beginning with it.
How to Get Humility Right
Reframe it as realistic strength. You're not denying your expertise — you're acknowledging both what you know and what you don't.
Balance humility with assertiveness. Humble confidence means owning your skills while staying open to growth.
Express your needs clearly. Now when I'm facilitating, I say: "I have things to contribute, but I'm not comfortable with the time pressure — how should we handle that?"
Use peer feedback loops. Encourage sharing rather than hiding ideas under false humility.
Educate your teams. Intellectual humility means learning with confidence, not denying yourself.
The Bottom Line
True humility isn't about making yourself small. It's about being grounded in reality — which includes recognizing your actual strengths, not just your limitations.
When you understand humility correctly, it becomes a pathway to empowerment, not a trap that keeps you stuck.
Because the world doesn't need you to be small. It needs you to be real, grounded, and confident in what you bring to the table.
That's not arrogance. That's humility done right.
What's your relationship with humility? Does it empower you or keep you playing small? I'd love to hear your thoughts — drop me a line and tell me how this lands for you.
