Since returning from my Cook Islands yoga retreat, I’ve found myself craving space. Not just physical space—but the kind of soulful spaciousness that allows you to breathe deeply again.
At first, it was subtle. A quiet nudge.
But within days, I was elbow-deep in what can only be described as a decluttering pilgrimage.
Clothes I hadn’t worn in years, cardboard boxes filled with who-knows-what, expired bathroom products, broken art supplies, random bits and bobs that once had meaning but now just weighed down my shelves—and my nervous system.
Each drawer I cleared felt like a breath.
Each shelf I wiped down felt like an exhale I didn’t know I’d been holding.
This wasn’t just about tidying.
This was about letting go—gently, intentionally, with love.
The Art of Letting Go
In my Art of Wellness Toolkit, this is what I call Tool #8: Release for Liberation. And it couldn’t be more relevant right now.
Release isn’t always dramatic.
Sometimes it’s a soft decision to loosen your grip.
To stop clinging to what no longer serves.
To make space—not out of lack, but from deep trust that something new is coming.
For me, the physical decluttering mirrored an emotional one. I began noticing where else I was holding on too tightly—to habits, to obligations, to internalised pressure. To keeping up.
The Churn of Life (and Why I’m Opting Out)
My sister recently introduced me to the idea of Rushing Woman Syndrome—and wow, did it hit home. But I don’t think it’s just for women. It’s for all of us caught up in the modern churn.
Halloween. Christmas. Valentine’s Day. Easter.
Buy this. Decorate that. Perform joy on social media.
Kmart aisles bursting with seasonal plastic that will end up in landfill.
It’s not all bad. But it is a lot.
And after my time in Rarotonga—where life is deliciously slow and simple—I came home wanting less.
Less noise. Less stuff. Less expectation.
More nature. More truth. More space to just be.
Snake Skin & the Fire Horse
It makes sense. We’re at the tail end of the Year of the Snake, a symbolic time of shedding.
Snakes don’t shed because it’s convenient. They shed because they have no choice.
The skin gets tight. Cracked. No longer fits.
And so, with effort and instinct, they slide out of what was.
It’s uncomfortable. It’s necessary.
And afterward, there’s space to grow.
I feel it in my own life. The shedding. The awkwardness. The pull toward what’s next—even though I don’t fully know what that is yet.
And soon, we’ll welcome the Year of the Fire Horse—my spirit animal, and a wild energy I can already feel stirring. Bold, untamed, creative.
But to ride that fire, I need to be light.
What I’m Doing Now
I’m carving out time this month to sit with my Tides of Change Journal—to reflect on what 2025 has taught me and to choose a guiding word, image, and intention for 2026.
Not a resolution.
A recalibration.
I want to enter the new year clear, grounded, and aligned. Not carrying what’s no longer mine.
A Practice You Can Try
You don’t have to do a full decluttering spree (unless you want to).
But if something inside you is whispering “let go”, listen.
Choose one small area—your kitchen drawer, your calendar, your emotional landscape—and gently ask:
- What have I outgrown?
- What’s quietly weighing me down?
- What can I release, lovingly?
Then act. A little is enough.
Let something go.
Notice what softens.
Trust what makes space.
Need Support?
If you’d like some guidance, my Free Resource Library is always open.
You’ll find tools for nervous system regulation, emotional clarity, somatic awareness, and soul-tending practices.
And you?
What are you ready to release before the year ends?
What part of you is ready to breathe again?
As the Fire Horse gallops closer, I’d love to hear what you’re making space for.
With warmth and wildness,
Popi Iatrou
Psychology | Creativity | Soulful Living
wellnessarts.com.au | popiart.com
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