Reflections from the mat, the margins, the mystery.
I Wanted to Belong, So I Built a Place That I Did
I didn’t grow up with a clear sense of belonging.
I was queer in a family that didn’t quite have space for it.
Not in a violent or overt way — but in those quieter moments that press just as deep.
Like when my brother said, “You’re not gay, take that diversity flag down!”
Or when my mom told me, “You’re just experimenting — one day you’ll marry a man, buy a house, have kids.”
They said it with love, in the only language they had. But the message underneath was clear:
Be who you are — but only if it makes sense to us... read more
Unbuilding the Studio, Rebuilding the Self
Fourteen years ago, the doors to a (the) little yoga studio opened. It wasn’t fancy — no eucalyptus towels or corporate branding — just a small, humble room with softwood floors, a few props, and an open-hearted belief in the power of this practice to heal, unravel, and transform.
Over the years, that little space became a sanctuary. A container. A community. It held thousands of breaths, stories, breakdowns, breakthroughs. People arrived to stretch and sweat — and often ended up meeting themselves. Fully.
But what most people didn’t see were the bones beneath it all...
Grief, Gratitude, and the Ground Beneath Us
They say grief is love with nowhere to go. This sentiment, attributed to Jamie Anderson, captures something so essential about the emotional architecture of grief.
Sitting with this idea a bit more, maybe it’s not that the love has nowhere to go — maybe it’s that the form it once moved through is no longer there.
The person, the place, the role — gone or changed — and so the love floods the space, like water searching for shape. Grief could then be the echo of love trying to reorient itself. Trying to find a new way in, a new way out.
Maybe grief is love learning a new way to stay... read more