Wisdom in Practice: On Mastery vs. Control
inspired by our philosophy discussions at my most recent retreat
I’m not even a week post-retreat, still swimming in the sweetness of it all. I almost wish I had written about it sooner—while it was even fresher, while I was still afloat in the softness of the container we held and co-created, before the subtle turbulence of landing back in the grit of the city.
I had a fire in me, though—a burn to create, to cultivate, to take the fuel I gained from the portal that held me and pour it into something I’m building… a body of work. A place where I can source my re/sourcing; where I can hold space for you to do the same, too (online practice platform, coming 2026).
Practice is Presence in the Unknown
We can think ourselves into longing for what we wish could have been—and I’ve felt this many times before. It’s a familiar longing, that quiet sense of having missed something even while being within something incredible. But this time was different. I left this portal feeling full, as if nothing was missing—that everything I needed was already here, within me, and within the container we held together.
Leading up to our departure, I refined the program I created for the retreat—one that would challenge the way we think, express, and engage with our practice, whatever that practice may be. Soul work, spirit work, energy work… as participants described it.
One morning, during our philosophy discussion guided by the Yoga Sutras, I found myself asking a question I hadn’t planned to ask:
What is practice?
It wasn’t in my notes—it just arrived. Yet it became the thread that unraveled into one of the most expansive conversations of the week, exploring the relationship between mind, body, and the space between…
Some spoke of practice as the meeting point between performance and play—where we engage with our art without grasping for an outcome.
Others described it as the antidote to performance itself: the experience of being with the action, rather than extracting from it.
One reflection offered practice as a way of building our capacity to fail—to meet failure as part of the process, and to find opportunity within it.
We spoke of practice as a way to anchor into experience—to face the unknown and cultivate safety within it. Less pressure. More being.
Practice became an image of an open field—an ever-expanding awareness and dialogue with the subconscious. A place to return to the role of student, again and again.
To Create is to Surrender
When we remove the “I” from the equation, we shift into deep presence with the creative act itself, turning the mic toward our inner voice.
When we let go of the fear that shadows expression, we liberate ourselves to the practice itself—we surrender.
Perhaps noticing my quiet wish to have reflected on this experience sooner—and instead surrendering into divine trust, into the rhythm of knowing and being rather than doing—is the practice itself.
I learned so much from this retreat. I love being in the role of facilitator, yet I’m reminded again and again that I’m learning just as much as the practitioner—if not more. I am a practitioner, in practice, right alongside them. (And if any facilitator or educator tells you they’re not—run, lol.)
This discussion opened the seal for how the rest of our dialogue unfolded. Shared words and pieces from the heart have been etched into my cellular memory, deep into my being—in places and spaces I hold near.
What I thought would be a one-hour session stretched into ninety minutes that flew by. These discussions became our anchor—holding us each morning in the rise of the sun, the warmth of fresh coffee, and the occasional coo of a crow.
Mastery is Wisdom in Motion
We spoke about the nuanced difference between mastery and control. What is the difference between mastery and control?
How can we master an art form while loosening our grip on the outcome—that which would put out the creative fire that got us there to begin with?
Once again… not part of my outline, plan, or notes. That’s how you know the dialogue is good—when they’re pulling contemplative questions out of me that I didn’t know were there.
Mastery is like practice—it’s a return. A safe haven, a space where we can simply be ourselves. This is what draws me to yoga: it’s an ongoing practice, free from competition. (And if there is competition… well, again, run, lol.)
Practice isn’t about control. Control creates rigidity. Practice is a soft returning, a re-routing back to ourselves when we get lost along the way.
Mastery emerges from consistency. It becomes our comfort, our home. It is what arises when we let go of control—when we surrender and trust the process itself.
Mastery is the knowledge we gain from lived experience—the wisdom that cannot be acquired cognitively. It can’t be dissected or analyzed; it can only be felt.
Control confines us—it boxes us in. We learn it, label it, categorize it, and tuck it away in a neat little package, believing we’ve got a handle on it.
Mastery, on the other hand, cannot be managed.
It is wisdom in motion.
It is the return… it is both the beginning and the end.
“Practice makes the master.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind
Holding Space for Paradox
This retreat awakened a mastery in me that I didn’t know existed—the capacity to be resilient, to pivot in real time when the group dynamic and radical unfolding paved the path in a direction outside of what I had planned.
Had I clung to control, the retreat would have felt rigid. The tight hold I could have had on my plan would have pulled me away from what I was truly called to do in the moment: hold space, carry presence.
A retreat is a living, breathing, co-created organism—much like nature itself.
It’s not linear, yet it has its rhythms.
Insightful, yet full of paradox.
It makes sense, even when it doesn’t.
It is a place to return home to ourselves—together—again and again.
I spent the entire plane ride home curating the outline for my online platform launching next year. I researched retreat centers. Emailed collaborators. I returned with a full heart, my mind at ease, and my spirit brimming with inspiration—a reminder that I am on the right path.
Inner Field Studio launches in 2026 — a space for embodied study and sustainable self-practice. Join the waitlist for first access and exclusive pricing.