Loud With Love
And maybe a mid-life crisis?
Loud with Love
When their mother draws close
the baby birds open their mouths wide,
ready to receive.
Wild with joy.
Loud with love.
I think how I'd like to live loud with love.
When you come close.
When the the earth wrecks me with her ordinariness.
When I picture the contours of my children's cheekbones.
When she flies away,
they soften back into the nest.
Mouths closed now.
Desperate for her return,
one becomes
the summoner.
A tiny cry
A spell to bring her back.
An ache.
Otherwise silence.
-Audra Carmine
Dear Readers,
Happy summer, where the light comes to fruition and we begin, again, to slowly make our way into the darkness. Begin again, my favorite set of meditation instructions. And, yet beginning again in life, and in practice, often feels like a wrestling match, a version of myself from the past entangled with the potential of a future me—each battling for primacy, for dominance.
I dreamt last night that I was leading a retreat somewhere beautiful, and there was a wedding about to take place. I had the distinct sensation that maybe I didn’t actually want to attend the wedding, and then I felt an aching, painful guilt at the thought of wanting to be separate from the festivities. There was a feeling that I “should” take part—a stuckness, a rigidity. Then the decor of the retreat center changed, and I realized I had replaced all the beautiful antiques that were once present with Ikea furniture. I was embarrassed. Why had I done that? Everything lush and old now looked cheap, unlived in, and fragile.
All of this to say that I made a decision not to lead a yoga teacher training this autumn. And then I made another decision to step away from in-person classes for a time. All of this was the result of being on retreat and having an honest look at what I am capable of offering in this moment.
I have the fear of disappointing everyone, which is literally what my brain thought—I will disappoint everyone. Everyone. (What an ego!) However, I am stepping back anyway. I am disappointing. You, dear reader, are also sometimes disappointing. Here we are, often disappointing together and learning how to tolerate it.
Years ago, my mother was at a dinner party with some friends she knew and some friends she didn’t. One of the friends she didn’t know started talking about a yoga instructor who was unable to lead a retreat to Costa Rica that year. The yoga instructor, my mother realized, was me, and this person was extremely frustrated and very upset. Disappointed. I don’t know if my mother defended me, but what I do remember was how stunned she was that another person, who was still going to be able to go on retreat in a beautiful place, could project such anger onto me at a very tender time in my life. My ex-husband and I were simultaneously wondering if we had made a mistake in separating while finalizing our divorce, and selling the family home that our kids had grown up in. My life consisted of dump runs, sobbing walks, and legal paperwork. I was a wreck of a person. Broken. A disaster. And then, similar to now, I did not have it in me to be away from my personal life leading a group of people. What this instance did teach me is that I am a public person who is capable of completely disenchanting and enchanting the masses depending on if I am doing what they think I should be doing, not necessarily what is right for me. It scared the shit out of me. It took me years to say no again. I believed at the time that I had broken trust with the community, when really what I had done was refuse to self-abandon. The relentlessness of the wellness world does this to a person. It distorts and projects and conflates. It made me sick thinking that I was so important. So needed.
Now, I am not a disaster. And, I care less if it all falls apart because I am honoring my own needs. Work, in addition to being absolutely a love of my life—especially the community—has also been a way for me to avoid, to escape feeling, and to receive praise. And now I find myself wanting to sit in my garden. To meditate. To go on retreat, to read, and to write. I want to have more time to be with my chosen family and people. I adopted a one eyed puppy named June.
Most of my learning right now comes from taking risks in relationship, and part of this means taking risks in my relationship with the community I have helped establish. The risk for me is often in the no. The yes has been easy. Yoga is like air to me. I know I will someday return to in person classes, and for now please catch me on my platform where I teach twice a week, live, and will be adding more content come September. Get a free month here with code Summer2026. It’s redeemable until the end of August. There are a billion videos up here.
Panama. Darlings. Are you coming? Get your spot. I just came off of retreat last week and am again, astounded by the benefits of having space, meditating in community, having food made for me, being in nature, journaling, and practicing yoga. And, it isn’t super convenient. I had to get on a plane, find someone to care for pets, and all the things associated with interrupting a life. My life often needs interrupting so that I can keep waking up. If you need to make a payment plan, the website now makes that easy. Pay 25% upfront and then four installments. The deadline for making a payment plan is September 1st.
Here is the vibe….
March 21-28 2027
There is a moment, just before spring fully arrives, when the world feels like it’s holding its breath. March lives in that in-between—softening edges, loosening what has been held too tightly, inviting us back into motion, but gently. This retreat is an offering to meet yourself in that space. Not where you think you should be, but exactly where you are.
Over these seven days together, we will move. Sometimes slowly, sometimes strongly, and often together. Over the course of this week we will connect with the rhythm with the ocean and earth. Time will be more fluid. We will create space for the parts of you that have been waiting—patiently or impatiently—to be acknowledged.
We will make our schedule with the rhythm of the tides. There will be morning yoga and meditation practices that ground you back into your body. Quiet rituals that connect you to that one small quiet voice. Conversations that are less about fixing and more about witnessing. For the rest of the day, we will immerse ourselves in time outside, where the natural world reminds us how to begin again without force. Surf, hikes, swimming, whale and bird watching, paddle boarding, lounging in the shade, reading a book, writing, drawing. We will make space together for wholeness and rest in all of it’s forms.
Nothing here asks you to perform or improve. There is no version of you that needs to arrive.
Instead, this is a space to soften. To notice. To remember.
You may come feeling tired, restless, uncertain, or simply curious. You may not have words yet for what you need—and that’s okay. We’ll let the days unfold without urgency, trusting that clarity comes not from pushing, but from allowing.
By the time you leave, something subtle may have shifted. Not loud or dramatic, but real. A little more space in your breath. A quieter mind. A deeper sense of belonging to yourself.
And maybe that’s enough.
Second. I will be offering two groups this autumn in the Write Yourself Free series.
The first one will run Friday Mornings 11am-12:30pm in person, all persons welcome, beginning September 14th and ending October 19th. Limited space so sign up soon.
Here is what a few participants said about the group I ran this spring:
“Write Yourself Free was a transformative experience, for myself and for the group as a whole! I loved sharing space with other women who like to write, learning about ourselves and each other through Audra’s probing prompts and insightful readings. I loved hearing other women echo the thoughts and feelings that I thought were personal to me. It was therapeutic but not therapy per say. The group was wonderfully supportive and I hope the friendships we developed will be lasting.”
And another sweet review:
“I came into this experience without the tools or the confidence I needed to discover, expound, explore, notice, sit patient, or write with fresh intention. The collective magic that Audra facilitated, summoned, invited into the space allowed me to safely engage and belong. Carried by that collective magic, I was writing in completely fresh ways, found expression I didn't know I was capable of, and was buoyed by the comfort of a shared experience. Now, I carry a toolbox of word-forward ideas and experience that has forever changed how I write, when I write, what I write, and how I think about writing. And I won't neglect to mention I discovered some of my inner world in the process. I hold so much gratitude for Audra creating this space - alchemical, magical, living. If you're thinking about signing up, don't overthink it and Write Yourself Free.”
Lastly, come September I will have a few spots open for in my therapy practice. Please email info@audracarmine.com
My last in person class, for now, is next Thursday July 23rd. Then I am off to drive Veda to South Bend, Indiana for grad school, That human got a fully funded fellowship to study poetry and get their MFA. No big deal.
Big love, and please stay in touch.
Audra
“I think how I'd like to live loud with love.” what a beautiful phrase ❤️