When I left San Diego to move to the tiny, truck-stop-town Mojave, people thought I was crazy.
But my friends? They knew it was love.
Only love would pull me away from my hometown, my family and the vibrant yoga community in which I was so heavily involved.
There was never a doubt. We both knew, almost from the start, that this was that kind of relationship. The kind that helps you be more of who you are, that lifts you up, but also holds you accountable and calls you on your shit.
Way before that, though, I had to create that kind of relationship with myself. I had to trust myself. I needed to accept myself. And more than anything, I wanted to enjoy and love myself.
But this—the loving myself—would be the hardest yoga I ever did.
Unconditional love means showing up regularly to stare your demons in the face. It means staying right there with yourself when those demons rage and telling yourself, “I’m right here for you. No matter how hard or crazy it gets, I’m not going anywhere.”
This is the kind of yoga I do.
My yoga is the kind of tough love that asks, “Are you really happy?”
It’s not a militant or “something’s wrong with you” kind of yoga. It’s a yoga that helps you see your own strength, believe in yourself and rise up through the mud to live your best life. It’s the kind of yoga that teaches you how to hold a handstand or do a dropback, not because it looks cool (though it does), but because it teaches you to be resilient, know your strength, and helps you come alive.
Before I could ever have found the kind of relationship that would make me walk away from a twelve year, successful yoga teaching career to move to a town where there
is was zero yoga, I had to do this.
Because the answer to that question had been, “No.”
At the lowest, I was in a relationship with an alcoholic who I loved (and will always love) dearly, was watching my mother experience, and then die from, her fifth round of cancer, while simultaneously trying to heal a slipped disc in my neck.
I knew if I could get out of pain, heal myself and live a happier life, other people could too.
That was the motivation to start writing and share what I’ve learned with the world beyond the platform of weekly yoga classes.
I built this website, started this blog, and brought yoga to the space cowboys (including my husband, Aaron) who build prototype airplanes in Mojave.
Aaron picked up his camera, and together, we’ve amassed a growing collection of images from the incredibly beautiful places we travel to for rock climbing.
These yoga images show up here on this site, in the four books I’ve written, and on my social media, with the intention of passing the sense of freedom I feel when I’m in nature on to you, the reader.
I hope they help you remember your own innate sense of joy, and give you the courage to answer those hard questions in your own life, as well as the tools to cope with the often uncomfortable answers.
Today, we live in Tehachapi, just up the hill from Mojave. My teaching path in this new town is still unfolding, but is sure to include public, private and semi-private classes, as well as yoga for first responders, to help them cope with the physical and emotional intensity of their jobs.
Expect to see a continuing expansion into my teaching of Trauma Sensitive Yoga —something that began in earnest over the last year, but is steeped in decades of my own healing experiences.
Mostly, I want each of us, myself included, to remember that we are not alone in this human journey.
You being here is no accident. It means you’re doing the work of being true to yourself, creating joy for yourself and committing to the life you’re meant to lead.
Thank you for joining our community!