Choosing Joy

a thought to unfold…

We often talk about happiness and joy as if they’re one in the same, but they’re actually quite different.

Happiness is a reaction triggered by positive events, success, or material gain. But it comes and goes with changing situations, it’s a fleeting feeling.

Joy though, joy isn’t something that happens to us.

It’s something we choose.

It’s rooted in purpose, gratitude, connection.

And the thing about joy is that it can coexist with other emotions, even sadness and fear.

Choosing joy isn’t pretending everything is easy.

It’s believing there is always room for light.

inspiration is everywhere…

I came across this video interview with Abby Wambach the other day where she was talking about anxiety and joy.  She shared that when she’s fully experiencing joy and play, she doesn’t feel anxiety in her body at the same time—like not physically possible.

BUT she acknowledges the anxiety may still exist. She can see it. She knows it’s there. But she lets joy take the lead.

That isn’t avoidance. That’s presence.

Because when we’re truly here—in our breath, our strength, our rhythm, our movement, our play— joy has a way of sweeping us up.

That’s the practice. That’s the choice.

Happiness is often tied to what’s happening around us—
the circumstance, the outcome, the thing.

But joy is something deeper. Joy lives inside.

It’s the feeling of being connected. Of moving with purpose. Of being aligned with what matters.

And that means joy doesn’t disappear when other feelings exist.

It can live right alongside effort, alongside challenge, alongside heartbreak, alongside sorrow, alongside life.

When we’re here fully, joy can take over.

Not because everything else is gone, but because joy sweeps us up when we let it.

Joy isn’t something we wait for. It’s something we choose.

Again and again and again.

thoughts for practice…

Journal Prompts

Pick one or two that speak to you—or move through them all.

• Where in my life have I been waiting for joy instead of choosing it?

• What does joy feel like in my body when I allow it?

• What helps me feel playful, present, and free? How can I create more space for that?

• What would it look like to let joy take the lead today, without needing everything else to disappear?

Need a moment before you begin?

Close your eyes.
Notice your breath.
Notice your body.

Where does ease already exist?
Write from there.

Reflections for your practice

The next time you step onto your mat, ask:

Where can I invite more play into my practice today?

If we’re here to feel more, how can I let joy take the lead?

Am I willing to let ease exist alongside the effort?

What would happen if I stopped waiting and started choosing?

Every time we come to our mat is an invitation to feel more—an opportunity to use breath and body to fully drop in, so we can experience this life more fully.

Whatever shows up, belongs here, and that includes joy, too. Maybe this life—this practice—doesn’t have to feel so serious.

Because the thing about joy is this when we choose to let it in, it has the ability to sweep us up while still living alongside everything else we’re carrying.

take this with you…

Joy doesn’t just happen to us. It’s something we choose.

Through presence. Through play. Through allowing ourselves to be fully here.

Even on the shortest day of the year—the winter solstice—light still exists. And so, even in moments of darkness, joy can be found, too.

Every time you choose connection.
Every time you choose presence.
Every time you choose play —

You’re choosing joy.

And you get to choose it again.

And again.

And again.

—this reflection comes from a christmas week flow taught 12.21.2025—

Ps. Every volume has its own vibe—get the playlist here and let this one unfold.

Human Migration: A Return to Self

a thought to unfold…

Some birds travel thousands of miles, following the same path year after year. We call this migration heroic — instinctive, ancient, beautiful. But maybe we forget that we’re doing the very same thing inside ourselves. We return to the same truths, the same lessons, again and again. Not because we failed… but because we’re ready to go deeper.

inspiration is everywhere…

I’ve been reading a lot of Mark Nepo lately — he’s a brilliant writer, but for me, more than anything, it’s the way his mind works. It’s the lens in which he sees this world around us—he has this beautifully complex way of looking at the seemingly “simple” things in life but seeing something profound.

He was at the Omega Institute when I was there for my writing workshop with Lara Love Hardin, so obviously I scooped up a bunch of his work from the bookshop (love me some merch and bookshop moments). And what I love about his writing is that each chapter is its own doorway. You can open to any page and there’s a message waiting for you that didn’t know you needed.

The book I’m reading right now, Falling Down and Getting Up, is about inner resilience and strength. Which, if you know me, is basically my favorite topic in life. Partially by choice, but mostly because I had no choice. Life serves up some really heavy things and we must keep going somehow, while also honoring all that is.

As I was reading one of the chapters the other day he talked about this idea of human migration — the way we return to ourselves again and again and again. He talks about how we’re born with a sense of Oneness. Completely whole. Completely connected. And then life happens. We learn separation. Expectations get placed on us. We get distracted, pulled away, shaped by experiences, culture, fear, pressure. All the things. Slowly we forget the deep knowing we arrived with.

“Each of us is born with a complete sense of Oneness and an inherent knowing of all the connections in the living Universe. When we first arrive, there is nothing between us and all other forms of life. Then, as we develop the many things we need to live in a world full of diverse tugs and pulls, we develop an identity.

Now there’s a self and an object. Now there’s inside and outside. Now there’s weather. Now there’s gravity. Now we hold something and drop it. There are a million distinctions and distractions. With each one, we’re challenged to trust or distrust the spirit we arrive with or the world we are born into. The Wholeness of Life starts to feel fragmented as we go about our human journey of discovering and learning and embodying our way into that Oneness all over again.”

— Mark Nepo

The journey of being human is this migration back to ourselves. Back to that original wholeness. And it doesn’t happen once— there is no start line there is no finish line — it happens over and over. A return. And every time through is a deepening.

Nepo says that in a world that condemns repetition as failure, we’re meant to stay open to learning it all again. That returning is not going backward. It’s going deeper. We’re not circling. We’re spiraling inward to a clearer understanding of who we are.

Truth be told, I’m a total bird nerd, so I have been thinking a lot about this idea of migration, both bird and human since reading that chapter. Last week, as I built out my yoga class and playlist, aligning songs with some of these thoughts and learnings, I started to notice something.

So often, whether it’s in song or life, we associate birds with freedom — flying away, soaring off, chasing the horizon, setting yourself free. Whether it’s Free Bird, Fly Away, I’m Like a Bird, I mean the list goes on and on. It’s all about the flight and freedom. But we rarely talk about the return. The migration. The truth is, though, most birds only survive because they return. The return is the freedom. The migration back is what makes the journey. And then its repeated over and over again. For generations. And without the return, there is no freedom, in fact, there is no bird at all.

The same is true for us. Maybe coming back to ourselves time and time again — to something familiar, something we thought we already knew — isn’t a failure or a regression at all . Maybe it’s the quiet, heroic work of deepening. Of remembering. Of coming back to who we are.

Yoga is such a beautiful practice of this. We return to the same shapes again and again—warrior 1, downward dog, breath in, breath out, whatever it is. Same breath, same body, same poses. And yet every single time, it’s completely different. The body is different. The heart is different. The mind is different. Our lives are different. Every time we show up on our mats—or our life—it’s different. We’re seeing it from a new angle, a new understanding. So we are most certainly not just circling or going backwards, we’re deepening, my friends. Over and over again.

“So, in a world that condemns repetition as failure, stay open to learning it all again. When we circle, we are just beginning to go deeper. And when we resist, we are often knocked down in order to look more closely at what we ran by. Some birds fly thousands of miles in migration, over and over, year after year. We find this astounding and beautiful. We find their long, determined pump of wings alone in the far reaches of the sky, quietly heroic. And we, as spirits in bodies in time on Earth, have our own human migration, between love and suffering, year after year. This, too, is quietly heroic. All so we can wake up to what is true, one more time, and utter, ‘Ah, it’s as I’ve always known, each thing is irreplaceable.’

The journey of being human is relearning piece by piece all that we were born with.”

— Mark Nepo

thoughts for practice…

Journal Prompts

Pick one or two that speak to you—or move through them all.

• Where in my life am I being invited to return, rather than move on?

• What truth, lesson, or feeling is resurfacing—what might these themes of my life be asking me to see more clearly this time? Where can I go deeper?

• What parts of myself have I drifted away from, and what would it feel like to come home to them?

• When have I mistaken “going back” for failure, and what might deepen if I soften that belief?

• How am I different from the last time I stood in this place — emotionally, spiritually, energetically?

• What feels familiar right now…but not the same? What new understanding is forming beneath the surface? How can I listen and notice?

• If I honored my returns instead of judging them, how might that shift the way I move through this season of my life, or my life altogether?

Need a moment before you begin?

Close your eyes.
Feel your breath.

Imagine your inhale gathering all the scattered pieces of you…
and your exhale guiding them gently home.

We so often think of the exhale as release —
a letting go, a clearing out.
But what if, just for today,
your exhale was part of the return?

Write from that place of coming home.

Reflections for your practice

The next time you step onto your mat, ask:

Can I meet each pose, each breath, as a return—familiar, yet entirely new?

Where does this shape feel different than the last time I was here? What can I learn from this difference?

Am i willing to revisit the poses I resist and the ones I love — not to fix them, but to understand them more deeply?

Can I let each breath be a migration inward — a coming home, one inhale, one exhale at a tie?

What happens if I stop chasing progress and start trusting the spiral —the way the every return brings me a layer deeper?

Yoga is a living metaphor for the return. For life. The human migration.

You are never the same person twice —
every breath, every movement is a new beginning disguised as repetition.

We start in stillness.
We end in stillness.
One is a letting go.
The other is a rebirth.

Let your mat be the place you practice the art of returning —
to breath, to presence, to yourself.

Not to go backward,
but to go deeper.

take this with you…

In a world that tells us not to look back, remember this: returning is not going backward. Returning is how we go deeper. Like the birds who travel thousands of miles only to find their way home again, our own migrations — between love and loss, forgetting and remembering — are quietly heroic. Each return brings us closer to what is true. And closer to the self we never actually lost at all. 

—this reflection comes from a classes taught 12.4-8.2025—

Ps. Every volume has its own vibe—press play and let this one unfold.

Surrender: Soften into what is

a thought to unfold…

Surrender doesn’t mean giving up. Surrender means softening into what is.

It’s trusting the unfolding of each breath, each moment—seeing surrender not as weakness, but as a softening—a deliberate choice to trust, release, and open to what is already here.

Where can you soften? Where might you be holding resistance—physically, mentally, emotionally—and where can you open to the possibility of letting go?

inspiration is everywhere…

In yoga, we talk so much about this idea of surrender. But what does it really mean?

If you’re a word nerd like me and look up the word in the dictionary, it says: to cease resistance to an enemy or opponent and submit to their authority, to give oneself over to something, to give up into the power of another. Sounds heavy, right? But if you read between the lines—it means letting go of control and softening. To trust and submit to something greater. 

In yoga, surrender is at the heart of our practice—Ishvara Pranidhana, the focus of the fifth niyama, the fifth and final limb of yoga in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. Surrendering to a higher power and letting go of the ego, releasing our attachment to outcomes, and trusting in something greater than ourselves.

So you see, my friends, surrender is the same under both definitions. It’s not giving up. It’s simply a softening. 

It’s about going to your edge, and then noticing where you can let go of the grip. Where you can release control and simply be in what is. And find peace in it. 

Surrender is navigating challenges with grace, trusting the unfolding, and softening into what is.

thoughts for practice…

JOURNAL PROMPTS 

Pick one or two that speak to you—or move through them all.

• Where in my life am I gripping too tightly in attempts to control the outcome?

• Where am I being invited to soften—toward myself, someone else, or a situation?

• When have I felt the peace that comes from letting go, and what allowed me to find it?

• What does surrender mean to me right now in this moment?

Need a little grounding before you begin? Pause. Feel your breath. Notice one place in your body that feels tight or heavy—and imagine your inhale filling and softening that space. Let your exhale release what you no longer need. Then write from that softened place.

“soften.”

— note to self

REFLECTION FOR your practice

The next time you step onto your mat, ask:

Can I meet each pose with curiosity instead of expectation?

Where am I holding tension I can release?

Can I trust my breath to guide me through the spaces of resistance?

What would surrender look like in this moment—less effort, more ease?

Can I let go of how this practice “should” feel, and simply feel what is?

The simplest moments on our mat—breath, stillness, presence—are often the most healing and freeing.

When the body meets resistance, let your breath meet it with compassion.
When the mind clings to control, remind it that letting go doesn’t mean giving up.

It means trusting the space between effort and ease.
It means allowing yourself to be supported by the ground beneath you.

Let this practice remind you that surrender is strength.
That softening is not collapse—it’s an opening.
An opening to presence, to trust, to what is already here.

take this with you…

Surrender is an act of trust, of releasing resistance, letting go of control, and attachment to outcomes. It is choosing to navigate life with grace, to create space for peace in what is, and to align with something bigger than ourselves. 

In the physical practice of yoga, savasana is the ultimate surrender, our peak pose. It’s a place to release any effort in the breath. To soften the space around the heart, the bell, the mind. Nothing to do, nowhere to be—just rest in what is.

The ability to surrender in savasana translates to a greater ability to accept and navigate the ups and downs of life with grace and ease.

Surrender doesn’t mean giving up. It means softening into what is.

—this reflection comes from a class taught on September 25, 2025—

Ps. Every volume has its own vibe—press play and let this one unfold.

The Antidote is Presence

a thought to unfold…

The only antidote to overwhelm is to fully drop into the moment you’re in.

To be present in the now. 

This world, our worlds can feel heavy. Overwhelming. There’s so much noise in our lives—responsibilities, distractions, heartache. It can feel so heavy.

But when we choose to come back to the simplicity of this breath, this body, this moment, we can find a little peace. A little room. A little space. A little light.

How can you be here, right now? Truly here. 

This moment. This breath. 

inspiration is everywhere…

Life has felt a bit overwhelming lately. Someone asked me the other day how I was doing, and I was like,

“Wellllll…”

Because the truth is, life can be a lot. Sometimes it takes someone asking how you’re really doing to remind you of the weight we carry. Sometimes it’s the hard things we’re going through, sometimes it’s the endless distractions, the mindless scrolling, the constant noise. Overwhelm is real, and it can feel heavy.

For me, this time of year brings reminders of loss, grief, milestones, and moments that make you pause. Even the change of season can feel heavy, signaling endings and beginnings all at once.

And then there’s the weight of the world—heartbreaking things happening, the constant news cycle, the endless stream of information. Some days, it all comes at once, and overwhelm presses in from all directions, both within and outside of ourselves.

But the more I thought about that conversation with my friend, I noticed something: the only real antidote to overwhelm is presence—choosing to be fully here, in this moment. That’s what this practice of yoga is about.

We use breath and movement to drop into the now, to be fully here, nowhere else. This breath, this awareness, is always available — even outside of the physical practice.

We can always return to now.

And in those moments when it still feels a bit too much, you can try a little trick called the 333 rule:

• Name 3 things you can see

• Name 3 things you can hear

• Name 3 things you can feel or touch (or move three parts of your body)

It’s a small anchor, but in moments of anxiety or overwhelm, it can help bring you back. Back to now. Back to yourself.

thoughts for practice…

JOURNAL PROMPTS 

Pick one or two that speak to you—or move through them all.

• Where in my life am I feeling pulled in too many directions?

• What thoughts or worries am I carrying that aren’t serving me right now? What would it feel like to release them?

• When have I felt fully present, even for a brief moment—and what did that feel like?

• What small action could I take right now to return to the now?

• How can I notice and honor my breath when overwhelm shows up?

Need a little extra grounding for your journaling? Try practicing the 333 rule first—notice 3 things you can see, 3 things you can hear, 3 things you can feel or move in your body—then let your writing flow from that awareness.

“breathe.”

— note to self

REFLECTION FOR your practice

The next time you step onto your mat, ask:

Can I let my breath and movement bring me fully into this moment?

Can I notice the heaviness without needing to fix it?

Instead of rushing to the next pose, can I feel this one fully?

How can I allow presence to soften the weight I’ve been carrying?

The mind wants to move ahead—can I stay with this breath, this moment?

The simplest moments—breath, stillness, presence—are often the most healing. Where can I find space to land?

And remember, you don’t have to quiet all the noise.
You don’t have to solve everything.

You just have to show up—to yourself, your breath, this moment.

Overwhelm lives in the swirl of thoughts in the mind. Presence lives in the steadiness of your breath and body.

When the mind feels pulled in all directions, root through your feet. Come back here.

Let this practice be your place to come home to yourself.

A soft landing for the thoughts and feelings that arise.
A space where presence becomes movement.
A place where you can return—again and again—to now.

take this with you…

Life can feel heavy, noisy, and overwhelming. And yet, no matter what’s going on around us—or within us—we always have the ability to come back to the present moment. To notice our breath, to feel our body, to simply be here, now. And find peace there.

The present moment is all we ever truly have. Choosing to return to it again and again, even in small ways, is how we find a little lightness amidst the weight.

Overwhelm is real. But so is presence.

So when the world feels heavy, pause. Breathe. Notice. Anchor yourself.

You can always return to now.
You can always come home to yourself.

—this reflection comes from a class taught on September 11, 2025—

Ps. Every volume has its own vibe—press play and let this one unfold.

Where Freedom Lives

a thought to unfold..

True freedom comes from within. 

It’s the courage to show up—fully, honestly, completely.

To move with your truth.

To breathe through your stories.

Every time you come to your mat is an opportunity to practice that kind of freedom. 

To show up completely, wholly, you. 

---

inspiration is everywhere…

Bruce Springsteen has entered the chat. While planning my 4th of July yoga class—built around the themes of freedom and story—I knew the soundtrack had to include The Boss. 

We moved, breathed, and flowed to a Bruce & Friends playlist the entire time. His music was more than background—it was part of the storytelling. So many of his songs speak to struggle, grit, hope, and owning your truth.

Bruce Springsteen is one of the greatest storytellers of our time—not just because he writes iconic songs, but because he tells the truth. He shares his story—his struggle, his joy, his pain. He doesn’t just perform—he reveals. And there’s a certain kind of freedom in that. Not just for himself but for everyone who listens. 

I recently returned from a writing workshop at the Omega Institute with the one and only Mama Love, Lara Love Hardin (if you haven’t read her book yet, run and buy immediately). At this intimate, hands-on workshop, every writer did the same—they stood up and shared their stories. Some were heartbreaking, some wild, some quietly brave.

It reminded me that we all carry stories, and that our power lies in owning them fully.

When we own our truth and share it—whether with ourselves or others—we learn to move with it, to let it shape us rather than hold us back.

Vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s courage. Connection. Liberation. It’s a form of freedom. Every time you step onto your mat, you have the chance to practice that kind of freedom.

To move what needs to be moved, to move with your story, not against it.

To soften what’s been held tightly. To let your breath become the bridge between who you’ve been and who you’re becoming.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to be unburdened to be free.

You just have to be willing to be honest.

That’s where freedom lives.

---

thoughts for practice…

Journal Prompts

Pick one or two that speak to you—or move through them all.

• What story are you carrying today?

• Where in your life are you holding back from showing up fully—and why?

• What truth have you been holding in your body that wants to move or be seen?

• What does freedom feel like—for you, right now?

• What would it look like to move with your story instead of against it?

• If you could tell your truth without fear, what would you say?

Need a little vibe for your journaling? Hit play on the Bruce & Friends playlist below—let it stir something loose, then write from there.

REFLECTION FOR your practice

The next time you step onto your mat, ask:

Can I let my movement be honest today?
Can I let my body speak the truth—without needing to explain it?

How can I move in a way that feels free?
How can my breath lead me toward liberation?

Remember, you don’t have to have it all figured out.
You don’t have to be unburdened to be free.

You just have to be willing to show up—with your story, your breath, your truth.

Let this practice be your place to move with whatever’s real.
Let it be a soft landing for your story.

A space where truth becomes movement.
A place you are free.

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take this with you…

We are all carrying something. And when someone tells the truth, something inside us softens. Because it reminds us we’re not alone. 

That’s what Bruce does so well—he doesn’t just sing songs, he says something. He tells the truth. And in doing that, he frees himself—and he frees us.

Movement can do that too. Sometimes we don’t need to explain it. We just need to feel it. To let it move through us. To let ourselves be seen—even if it’s just by ourselves.

We all carry stories. And when we own them, when we let them breathe and move, something inside us opens.

May you keep moving through your truth. That’s where freedom lives.

Ps. Every volume has its own vibe—press play and let this one unfold.

““Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.””

— Brené Brown

The Only Thing that Fits is You

a thought to unfold…

We grow up trying on ideas, expectations, of who we are supposed to be.

We wear expectations like outfits—some passed down, some borrowed, some never meant for us at all.

We try them on, hoping they feel like home.

How many versions have you tried on—just to realize the only one that fits is you?

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inspiration is everywhere…

Friday night I was outside weed-whacking (and I wonder why I’m single) when a little girl I know from the neighborhood rode by on her bike.

She stopped and said hi and we chatted about school. Every time I see her we’ve been counting down the days because I know she’s excited for summer to start, so I asked her how many days left. Only four more days.

She went on to tell me how her class has this tradition during the last week of school. Each day, they pop a balloon and get a theme for the next class day.

I said oh that’s so fun, what theme was today? And she replied, ‘“dress as who you want to be when you grow up.” So obvi, I asked her who she dressed up as. Without skipping a beat, she looks at me point blank and says, ‘Myself.’



Oh damn, I was floored. Can't we all learn something from a fourth grader truth bomb? I told her, “That’s the best thing you can be when you grow up. I’m still working on it, but I’m glad I became myself, too.” And she said, “Yeah, I was going to dress up like a nail tech, but my moms scrubs didn’t fit me… so I decided to just be me.”

And holy shit was that poetic. They didn’t fit.
 And I’m not just talking about her mom’s scrubs. But the roles, the expectations, the pressure.
 We try on what others wear, or who they think we should be—only to realize eventually they don’t fit. The only thing that ever really fits…is you.

---

thoughts for practice…

JOURNALING PromptS

Pick one or two that speak to you—or move through them all.

• What are you currently wearing (metaphorically) that no longer fits?

• What’s one “should” you’ve been carrying that you’re ready to set down?

• When in your life have you felt most like you? What were you doing, and how can you bring more of that feeling into your life now?

• If you dressed up as “yourself” (just like my 4th grader neighbor), what would that look like? What parts of you would shine the brightest?

• What version of “you” are you ready to return to—or continue becoming?

Need a little vibe for your journaling? Hit play on the playlist below and let it guide you deeper.

REFLECTION FOR your practice

The next time you step onto your mat, ask:

Can I move in a way that feels like me today? Not how I think I should move. Not how someone told me to. Just me.

On your mat, your only job, the only thing you have to get right, is to show up as you. Completely. Entirely. That’s it.  Let it be a practice in returning.

A place where alls you have to do is show up exactly, fully, beautifully…you.

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take this with you…

When we’re young, we’re taught to think of who we want to be when we grow up—a doctor, a nurse, a fireman, a pilot, all these different identities—then throughout life, we try on who we think we’re supposed to be. 
And then somewhere along the way, as we grow, we begin peeling back those layers. All the layers, all the identities that were never really ours.

There are over 8 billion people in this world—
but not one of them is you. Really think about that.
 Your voice, your light, your energy…they are unrepeatable. There is no other.  So don’t ever stop being you. And y’all know the deal, when we hide parts of ourselves, we don’t just cheat ourselves—we cheat the world of the magic only we can bring. One singular you. 

So yeah you can keep trying on all the things—you can spend your whole life doing that if you want— but I’ll tell you right now, the only thing that fits, is you. 

Ps. Every volume has its own vibe—press play and let this one unfold.

Welcome to The Unfolding!

Hi friends!
I’m so glad you’re here—whether we’ve shared time together on the mat, crossed paths in the community, or you’re just finding your way to this space for the first time. Welcome, welcome.

My name is Amanda Wormann. Among the many hats I wear, I’m a 200-hour Registered Yoga Teacher (RYT) based in beautiful Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. You can find me regularly teaching at Soulfire Collective on Thursdays at 7:30a. and 9:00a, and Sundays at 8a.m (never been? DM me for a free class!). I also offer private sessions—either in-studio or wherever your practice takes you.

I teach vinyasa-style yoga, which is a practice that links breath to movement to create a mind-body connection, allowing us to more fully experience the wide range of emotions that come with being human.

Every time you step on your mat is an invitation to feel more. And when you’re in my class, know that you are free to feel it all—joy, gratitude, uncertainty, sadness, and everything in between.

I believe in holding space for the full spectrum of what it means to be human. 

We’re here to breathe, to move, to laugh, to stumble, to sweat—and yes, even have some fun. This practice, this life, doesn’t need to always feel so serious. If we’re here to feel it all, then let’s feel it all, right? 

But more than anything, I believe yoga is not just what we do on the mat—it’s how we live when we step off of it.

It’s how we breathe through challenges, return to ourselves, and show up fully for our lives.

Week after week, I weave together movement, breath, and storytelling—and a fire playlist so I’ve been told—but the real practice, the one that changes us, happens in the quiet moments in between.

After class, I’m often asked to share the words, the reflections, the themes that landed. And some of my students have asked me to create a home for them.

This is that place: The Weekly Unfolding.

A space for yogis, soul seekers, life lovers, and anyone on the journey of becoming—whether you step onto a mat or not.

Because I believe the heart of yoga is for everyone, anywhere, exactly as they are.

So if you find yourself in this cozy, warm corner of the internet, let it be an invitation to live more deeply. More fully. More you.

Ready to unfold? Begin here: Volume 1: The Only Thing That Fits is You, available now. Use it for journaling, reflection, or simply as inspiration to show up more fully you.