Do we ever truly let go of anything? Or do we simply loosen our grip, soften our stance, shift how much space it takes up in us?
Yoga Teachers: Making It Up As We Go Since Forever
From Mindful Unplug to Mindful Engagement
Reentry
Under the Big Sky: Notes from the Feathered Pipe
The Pivot
Bones, Breath, and Beginning Again
In movement there is poetry. There is impulse and order and disorder. And within it, a deep remembering: that we are not held together by sheer effort alone. That balance, ease, and rhythm are not ideals, but birthrights. The bones know. The breath knows. And when we trust that, even in chaos—we move with more grace. We rest into a structure that doesn’t collapse. We are held.