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 had been so heavily involved.
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 learn to trust myself, accept myself and, more than anything, love myself.
But this—the loving myself—would be the hardest yoga I ever did.
My definition of unconditional love means to stay by your own side, no matter how hard, emotional or crazy it gets. It means telling yourself, “I’m right here for you, I’m not going anywhere and I love you.”
This is yoga.
It’s not the “something’s wrong with you” kind of yoga. It’s the kind of practice that helps you see your own strength, believe in yourself and rise up to live your best life.
It’s the kind of yoga that asks you to hold a handstand or do a dropback, not because it looks cool (though it does), but because it teaches you to show up for yourself, to be resilient and become more alive.
I knew if yoga could help me face my loneliness and past trauma, if it could help me learn to cope with pain and loss and create a happier, healthier life, then it could help other people too.
Yoga bridges this gap of who we once were, and who we are becoming. It helps us learn to join mind with emotional heart, spirit with physical body, movement with breath, strength with softness.
This transformation, these practical life skills, these tools —this is why I teach yoga. If I can share this with others, then together we rise up and make the world a better place.