Circles, Seasons and Choosing What Comes Next

Leslie Guerin • December 20, 2025

There’s something about the Christmas season that naturally pulls us inward.

The calendar tells us it’s the end of the year, but our bodies already know. The light shifts. The pace changes. Even those of us who love momentum and movement feel the quiet tug to pause—if only briefly—and take inventory of where we’ve been and what we’re carrying forward.


For many people, this season is about family coming together. For some, that’s cozy and comforting. For others, it’s complicated, layered, and emotional. Sometimes all of those things exist at once.


I live very much in that middle space.



The Shape of Family Isn’t Always a Circle



My children are children of divorce.


That sentence still catches in my throat a bit—not because it defines them, but because it taps into a part of my own history that I’ve carried for a long time. I was also a child of divorce, and while I’ve done a lot of work around that experience, there are moments when old memories still rise up unexpectedly.


One of those moments was watching other families gather—really gather—around their child at big milestones. High school graduations. College graduations. That full-circle photo: parents together, arms wrapped around the same person, standing in the same frame.


I didn’t have that.


And I remember how much it sucked.


When the father of my children and I split, we hoped—very intentionally—to be different. In many ways, we were and still are. We made choices rooted in respect, communication, and prioritizing our kids. But some things can’t be forced.


A group photo that’s fake is worse than not having one at all.


And so, my children also lack that single, tidy circle of support.


For a long time, I saw that as a deficit.



More Circles, Not Fewer



What I’ve come to realize—slowly, imperfectly, and with a lot of reflection—is that my children don’t have less support.


They have more circles.


My parents both repartnered. At the time, that felt like another fracture. Another layer of separation. But over the years, those additions expanded my community—and, in turn, my growth.


The same has happened for my children.


They have been raised by a village.


Friends who show up. Friends who stay. Friends who cheer for them—and for me—louder than the two voices of their father and I could ever manage on our own.


If you’ve ever been part of a group fitness class, you know this feeling.


You don’t walk in knowing everyone.

You don’t all move exactly the same.

But somehow, the collective energy holds you up.


That’s what our lives look like.



When the Holidays Complicate the Math



The holidays amplify everything.


They’re supposed to be about gratitude and generosity, about sharing time and love with the people who matter most. But when your life is made up of many circles, not one neat ring, that sharing can become complicated.


Who gets time?

Who gets which day?

How do you stretch yourself without breaking?


For years, I tried to be everywhere at once. I tried to honor every circle equally. I tried to show up fully for everyone.


And every year, I felt more depleted.


So now, I do something different.



Closing the Circle—On Purpose



Each year around the holidays, I intentionally close the circle.


Just me.

And my two children.


We carve out time that belongs only to us—no expectations, no performance, no trying to prove that we did it “right.”


Time together reminds me of something important:

That while I have done many things wrong while parenting and growing up alongside them, I have also done some good.


I have been present.

I have been consistent.

I have stayed curious.


And maybe most importantly—I have kept moving.



A Career That Grew With My Kids



I’ve done the same job for my entire career.

And for my children’s entire lives.


But I’ve done it in unconventional ways.


Much like our family.


I didn’t follow a straight line. I built BarSculpt through pivots, adaptations, injuries, recoveries, and reinventions. I taught in studios. I taught online. I taught in living rooms and on screens and across time zones.


If you’ve taken my classes, you know I don’t believe in one “right” way to move.


And I don’t believe in one “right” way to live either.


Things can be however you want them to be.



Letting Go of the White Picket Fence



I grew up thinking—truly believing—that there was a single template for success:


Marriage.

Kids.

Dog.

House with a white picket fence.

Two cars in the driveway.


I don’t know exactly where that belief came from, but I chased it hard.


I did it.

More than once.


And now?


Now I’m exploring condo living.

The ability to lock the door and travel.

To step away from darkness and snow in the winter.

To design a life that fits who I am now, not who I thought I was supposed to be.


I can only move on my own path because I know theirs is secure.



Equal Voices, Not Hierarchies



We reside in three different states.

I don’t share my children’s last name.

And we problem-solve as equals.


Not because I don’t have more experience—because I do—but because experience doesn’t automatically equal wisdom.


If I’ve learned anything with age, it’s that age means absolutely nothing.


These two souls keep me young because I learn from them constantly. Our exchange may not be equal in effort or responsibility, but it is absolutely reciprocal.


That’s something I see mirrored in movement spaces all the time.


Teachers learn from students.

Leaders learn from communities.

Strength isn’t top-down—it’s shared.



Movement as a Metaphor for Planning Ahead



As a barre and Pilates instructor, I spend a lot of time talking about alignment, intention, and control.


But what I care about most is adaptability.


Life doesn’t move in straight lines.

Bodies don’t either.


The end of the year is often framed as a time to set goals, make resolutions, and push forward. But before we rush ahead, there’s value in closing the loop on where we are.


In Pilates, we return to center.

In barre, we check our base.

In life, we take stock of our circles.


What’s supporting you?

What’s draining you?

Where are you forcing something that doesn’t fit anymore?



Forward Planning Doesn’t Have to Be Aggressive



Planning for the new year doesn’t have to mean overhauling your life.


Sometimes it’s as simple as asking:


  • What do I want to protect?
  • What do I want to strengthen?
  • What can I release?



For me, the answer this season is connection.


Not the performative kind.

The real kind.



A Three-Day Adventure



As we head out on our three-day adventure to Washington, D.C.—to connect, be silly, and make memories—I feel grounded in a way that has nothing to do with doing things “right.”


I’ll pull my circle strings tight.


Not to exclude others.

But to anchor us.


So that for the rest of the year, even when we’re miles apart, we feel that connection.


That’s what sustains us.

That’s what allows us to keep moving forward.



Bringing It Back to You



If this season feels messy for you—if your family doesn’t look like the movies, if your circles overlap instead of align—know this:


You are not doing it wrong.


Just like in movement, stability doesn’t come from rigidity.

It comes from awareness, balance, and choice.


As we close out this year and begin planning for the next, I invite you to consider:

What does your circle look like?

And how can you honor it—exactly as it is?


From my BarSculpt family to yours, may this season offer moments of grounding, clarity, and connection—however you choose to define them.


And may the year ahead meet you where you are, not where you think you’re supposed to be.


By Leslie Guerin February 22, 2026
There is a common misunderstanding about Pilates that has grown louder over the years: that it is meant to be gentle, slow, soft and easy. A “nice” workout. But that was never the intention. Pilates was not created to be performative. It was created to be effective. Effectiveness in movement does not come from looking impressive. It comes from precision. Somewhere along the way, the visual of Pilates became louder than the method itself. Long limbs moving with beautiful choreography and endless repetitions. Classes that look like Pilates. But looking like Pilates, being called Pilates and being Pilates are not the same thing. And most people, including many teachers, skip the part that actually makes it work. Pilates Was Never Meant to Be Performative Joseph Pilates did not design a system that rewarded momentum. He designed a system that required attention. Not attention to how something looks, though that is how you can tell if the exercises is executed properly. The attention should ideally be to how something is done. Modern fitness culture thrives on performance. Movement is filmed, shared, and packaged visually. The more dynamic it looks, the more engaging it appears. The more repetitions, the more it seems productive. This is where Barre and Pilates differ. This is where those lines have blurred and I quietly hope Pilates can resists this fad. A well-taught Pilates class may look almost uneventful from the outside. To someone expecting entertainment, it can seem understated. To the nervous system, it is deeply demanding. Because Pilates was never designed to entertain the eye. It was designed to reorganize the body. It is art, but not for arts sake. Precision Requires Attention Precision creates actual change. When movement becomes rushed, the body defaults to habit. Stronger muscles take over. Momentum replaces control. Alignment becomes approximate instead of intentional. Slowing down in Pilates is not about being gentle. It is about being accurate. It allows the brain to register position, and control. It gives the body time to respond instead of react. Precision is not passive. It is neurologically active. Holding a half curl with the neck long, ribs quiet, and breath organized requires far more attention than swinging through ten repetitions with momentum. Performing a leg circle without pelvic movement demands significantly more control than making the circle bigger or faster. The difficulty in Pilates is rarely about load. It is about coordination. Coordination should not be rushed for the sake of getting in more repetitions. Many Classes Look Like Pilates, But Aren’t Being Taught to Bodies This is where the disconnect becomes most visible. Exercises are demonstrated, copied and followed. Social media has taken the see and steal culture to new lengths! This leads to the body in front of the teacher is not being taught properly. Clients are becoming carbon copies of braod movements seen online and just simply being asked to replicate. There is a difference between cueing choreography and teaching movement. When classes focus primarily on what the exercise should look like, participants often compensate without realizing it. The neck grips during abdominal work. The hip flexors dominate leg movements. The lower back absorbs what the abdominals were meant to support. From the outside, everything appears correct. From the inside, the wrong muscles are doing the work. I know this to be true, because I have definitely performed Pilates.. and on an off day... I am sure I will unfortunately do this again. This has allowed me to really see though, that Pilates teaching requires observation. It requires adjusting range of motion, tempo, setup, and intention based on the individual body, not the idealized version of the exercise. Because the goal of Pilates is not uniform movement. It is intelligent movement. Real Pilates Feels Quieter, and More Demanding Neurologically One of the most surprising experiences for clients transitioning from performative classes to precise Pilates is how “quiet” it feels. There is less rushing and far less choreography for the sake of variety. Yet, thes classes often feels more challenging. Not because it is harder in the traditional fitness sense. But because it requires sustained mental engagement. You cannot mentally check out during precise Pilates. You are asked to notice: Where your ribs are How your pelvis is responding Whether your neck is assisting unnecessarily If your breath is supporting or disrupting the movement Which muscles are initiating versus compensating This level of awareness increases the neurological demand significantly. The brain is actively mapping movement rather than passively repeating it. That is why Pilates can feel deceptively demanding even when the exercises appear small or controlled. It is not about exhaustion. It is about organization. Gentle Is Often a Misinterpretation of Control When Pilates is described as gentle, it is usually because it lacks impact, heavy loading, or aggressive pacing. But low impact does not equal low intensity. Holding alignment under control. Moving without compensation and maintaining precision through fatigue. These are not gentle skills. They are refined skills. In fact, when Pilates is taught with true precision, many clients realize they have been overworking the wrong areas for years. Their hip flexors tire quickly. Their neck becomes aware. Their deep abdominals fatigue in ways they never noticed before. Not because the workout is harsher. But because it is finally specific. Specificity feels different than intensity. Why Precision Gets Skipped Skipping precision is rarely intentional. It is often the result of: Large class sizes Fast-paced programming Overemphasis on choreography Teacher insecurity around slowing things down The pressure to make classes feel “worth it” through visible effort Precision requires time. It requires observation. It requires confidence in subtlety. And subtle teaching can feel risky in a culture that equates visible sweat with value. But when precision is skipped, the method gradually becomes diluted. Exercises become shapes instead of tools. Cueing becomes generalized instead of specific. And the neurological depth of Pilates is replaced with surface-level movement. Teaching Pilates to Bodies, Not to Exercises One of the most important shifts a teacher can make is moving from teaching exercises to teaching bodies. An exercise is not the goal. It is the vehicle. Two people performing the same movement may need entirely different cueing, range, and pacing to achieve the intended outcome. Precision means recognizing that and adjusting in real time. It means allowing fewer repetitions with better execution. It means refining setup before adding progression. It means valuing stillness as much as movement. And perhaps most importantly, it means being willing to make the class feel quieter in order to make it more effective. Because when the body is truly learning, it does not need constant spectacle. It needs clarity. The Quiet Demanding Nature of True Pilates Clients who experience precise Pilates often describe it the same way: “It felt small, but I was working so hard.” “I had to concentrate the whole time.” “It was harder than it looked.” This is not accidental. When the nervous system is fully engaged, even controlled movements require significant effort. The demand shifts from gross muscular output to refined neuromuscular coordination. That is the part most people skip. And it is also the part that creates lasting change. Not bigger movements. Better ones. A Method That Rewards Thoughtfulness Pilates does not reward rushing. It does not reward performance. It does not reward spectacle. It rewards attention. It rewards consistency. It rewards intelligent progression. It rewards teachers who are willing to observe rather than simply lead. And in a fitness landscape that increasingly prioritizes how movement looks on camera, this quiet precision becomes even more valuable. Because bodies do not improve through performance. They improve through accurate, repeated, intentional movement. Reclaiming Precision in Modern Pilates Reclaiming precision does not mean making Pilates rigid or overly clinical. It means returning to its original intelligence. It means: Teaching fewer exercises more effectively Slowing down when needed Cueing for sensation, not just shape Observing compensation patterns Prioritizing neurological engagement over visual intensity When this happens, Pilates stops feeling “gentle” in the dismissive sense and starts feeling deeply effective. Subtle. Focused. Demanding in the way that truly organized movement always is. And that is where the real method lives. Not in performance. Not in speed. Not in how impressive it appears. But in the precision that most people overlook. Pilates doesn’t need to be harder.
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