Stepping Out of My Comfort Zone
This year, I’ve stepped outside my comfort zone several times.
I thought publishing a memoir about my personal grief journey was HUGE. And it was. But apparently, that wasn’t the end of it. I ended up recording the audiobook myself, too.
More recently, I learned a little about sound baths so I could sub a few of Erica Valentine’s classes while she was away doing her own amazing things. It was scary and rewarding all at once.
Erica generously shared part of a Saturday with me, showing me how she works with the different instruments and giving me a chance to try them myself. She loaned me a couple of crystal bowls, several metal singing bowls, bells, ocean drums, a rain stick, and little chimes. I practiced with them in the evenings at home, often with my dogs falling asleep nearby as I played.
So far, I’ve subbed two of Erica’s sound bath classes, with a few more coming in October and November. You can check my schedule page for the dates.
And now, another opportunity to step outside my comfort zone.
Erica has asked me to sub her All-Levels Vinyasa classes with optional strength throughout October. I’m excited to take this on, too. Vinyasa is much more familiar territory for me than sound bath, but every teacher brings something different to a class, and I’m looking forward to exploring this format and making it my own.
It’s funny how stepping outside your comfort zone works. The first step can feel enormous. And then, somehow, the next one becomes a little easier to take.
When the Body Remembers
Kapotasana has a way of finding me.
I don’t rush into it. I reach up before I reach back. I press my legs firmly into the mat and take my time creating space, especially in my low back where I’ve learned not to collapse. The first round I practice on my own. The second goes deeper, with steady support behind me. I feel grounded. Safe. Strong enough to explore the edge.
When I come upright again—back on my knees—something shifts.
Without my hands on the floor, as my back body lifts the weight of my torso, a surge rises through the front of me. Not joy this time. Something heavier. I can feel it building before I understand it.
I reach for a wheel and fold forward over it, letting my spine return toward neutral. The edge presses just below my sternum. My knees hold it in place. I breathe. And then the tears come.
I know why. Read More
How Much Do We Affect One Another — Even When We Don’t Mean To?
In a recent class, a teacher offered a simple reminder that stayed with me:
our energy on the mat doesn’t exist in isolation. It affects the people practicing beside us.
They invited us to consider practicing not just for ourselves, but for our neighbors.
To let that awareness shape the way we move and breathe — almost like an intention we carry through the practice.
It immediately brought to mind an experience I had earlier this year.
Two students were practicing near one another. One arrived clearly carrying a lot — moving quickly, breathing loudly, pushing hard through the sequence. The other seemed increasingly affected by that pace and intensity. Eventually, they rolled up their mat and left early.
When I later encouraged the first student to slow down and find a bit more ease, the suggestion didn’t land well. There was frustration. Tension. Only later did I learn what they had been carrying into the room that day — a high-stakes test or interview later that morning, the kind that tightens the body long before we’re aware it’s happening.
That conversation stayed with me.
Not because anyone did anything wrong, but because it revealed something subtle and true:
we often show up to practice carrying far more than we realize — and what we carry doesn’t stay contained.
I was in the middle of my own stressful season at the time, navigating uncertainty and change. It made me wonder how often my energy had spilled into shared spaces without my noticing. How often I, too, had practiced while holding tension, urgency, or distraction — and how that may have affected others.
None of this is about blame.
It’s about awareness. Read More
The Shape Is Never the Point
The shape is never the point.
It’s the calming of the mind,
the steadying of breath,
the quiet that rises when we soften around the edges.
This is where peace lives.
Where spiritual happiness finds room to grow.
Where practice becomes a way back to yourself.
Some days the body feels open and willing.
Other days it feels heavy, resistant, unfamiliar.
But the mat doesn’t keep score — we do.
We’re the ones who label a practice “good” or “bad,”
who compare today’s body to yesterday’s,
who expect our poses to look a certain way
and then silently scold ourselves when they don’t.
But what if the practice isn’t asking for perfection at all?
What if it’s asking for presence?
Inspired, Grateful, and Growing
Six months ago, I stepped into something new: teaching a led class at BTY. I called it Ashtanga Inspired Yoga because I wanted to move away from the word Intro. To me, “intro” suggested that the class was only for beginners, or that it would stop serving students once they learned the basics. My hope was to create a space that honors the traditional Ashtanga sequences while leaving room for creativity — and, most importantly, a space where every student feels safe, welcome, and respected in their practice.
At first, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel teaching a full hour-long led class after so many years of teaching Mysore-style. Mysore has always felt like home — the quiet room, the one-to-one attention, the steady rhythm of students practicing at their own pace. But something unexpected happened. Over these past six months, a core group of students has returned week after week. I’ve found myself inspired by their dedication, their curiosity, and their questions — constant reminders that yoga isn’t about hierarchy, but about shared exploration.
Their energy has spilled into my own practice. I’ve been exploring new ways of inhabiting familiar poses and playing with how the sequence can open up when approached with curiosity. Teaching this class has reminded me that yoga is both tradition and living practice — something that grows with us.
And now, the class itself is about to grow too. Beginning in October, Ashtanga Inspired Yoga will shift and simplify to become Ashtanga Yoga. It will continue in person at BTY and will also be available online via Zoom.