soooo…. what do you want?

The 500+ promotional emails I’ve received since Thanksgiving reflect the noise of the world.
(And the noise in my mind. And body. And heart.)

Delete All is a super helpful and gratifying feature in my email.

Ah, instant
S          P           A           C           E.

Movement, stillness, breath and the tools of meditation and mindfulness can also give us

s p a c e.


Time out.


That’s not Netflix. Or social media. Or the black hole of my pantry.

The Mary Poppins bag of yoga therapy is available anytime and every time
we want it.

We need it.

You see, a yoga class can be wonderful.
But the right yoga tool at the right time can be

I used to “pishaw” at yoga as an escape.
(Good thing I’ve given myself the liberty of growing and evolving this play-doh mind of mine.)

Because we do.
Need it.
A lot.
Right now.

I’m here to help – with these three holiday packages that could get you re-remembering what yoga therapy can do for you
or perhaps, introduce you for the first time.

We want to be there for our partners, our kids, our jobs, our pets…

Hard stuff. It’s hard stuff showing up for life right now.

Consider whether you, or someone you love, needs to feel a little less overwhelmed and a little more calm in this ocean of blah ugh yuck waves crashing upon us.

Take good care,

come do yoga to help hospice. and you.


I’m still here. For which I’m immensely grateful.

Moving on to related news…

I’m not sure about you, but I can’t quite give the year of 2021 a score of


as if I were watching Michelle Kwan own the ice 20 years ago.


It’s felt pretty sucky for me. And yeah, I can dive into the details and mindfully invoke the million pinpricks of starlight to remind myself it wasn’t as sucky as my negativity bias wants me to think.

Or I can just let it feel sucky for now.

Why does it feel sucky?

Because I wanted it to be different than it was.

And because I gave up a whole lotta’ me to get through it.
To get my kids through it.
To get my family through it.And standing back up again, finding my edges, figuring out my way…
none of that is proving to be easy or straightforward.

So there you go.

When my nephew died, I remember this thing my sister, a Latin Teacher to middle schoolers for the past 15+ years, said…

“I don’t know how to be a mother to a dead son, but I do know how to teach. So I’ll do that for now and figure out the other.”

Wisdom speaks.
Grief reveals.
And here we are.

I’m grateful to once again invite you to join me in-person for some much needed yoga. Really and truly a class of few words, and much movement, stillness and breath.
And all for a heart holding cause.

4th Annual Donation class in benefit of Transitions Hospice Care
In Grief and Gratitude –
All-Levels Gentle Flow Yoga class and Share session
Date: Saturday, December 18th

Time: 3:30-5:30pm

Location: Yoga-Mojo Studio*
1127 Kildaire Farm Road, Cary, NC

Register here – Space is limited to allow distancing

*Please note Yoga-Mojo Studio requires all studio teachers and students to be fully vaccinated.

3:30-4:30pm is the time for our All-Levels Gentle flow and 4:30-5:30pm is the time to share my homemade chai and reflections on grief, gratitude, or the messy mix of both. (So yeah, there’s gonna be more words in that part.) You can journal beforehand and read it, you can speak to whatever arises for you, or you can sit in silence and bear witness to others.

And if you want to practice but are either out of the area or unable to attend, drop me a note and I’ll send you a Vimeo link on the 18th for a pre-recorded class. I’ll also include a few options on how you can submit a donation.This offering means a great deal to me.

It’s in honor of my nephew,
it’s in honor of my dear friend’s father and her brother,
it’s in honor of my dear friend’s husband,
it’s in honor of my dear friend’s mother,
and on and on…

And it’s in honor of the empty space that remains once the bodies are gone.
And it’s in honor of the fact that we’d have it no other way than to
grieve the loss of a life well lived.

People have passed.
Time has passed.
Things are different than we thought they would be.

We must make space for the sadness, the wanting.
We must honor the grief of knowing more, seeing more and feeling more
in these years of 2020 and 2021.

These years of plenty and not enough all at once.

As Frank Ostaseski says, grief needs time and loving attention.

Let us offer it that which it needs.

Register now and we’ll do what we can together.

Take good care,

i’ve fallen and i can’t get up

I wrote to you last on August 12th.
Today is September 15th.

That’s a long time.
Way longer than I’ve ever laid dormant in 3 1/2 years of writing here.
(If you’re in need of a back-up-the-theme musical interlude, try “There’s a First Time for Everything” by Little Texas.
An “eh” classic country tune that I definitely owned on CD in middle school.)


I’ve been curled up in my little turtle shell.

nah, not quite.

I’m more like an armadillo.

Wrapped in my silvery armor plates, head down, nose snuffling along the ground, running all over the place doing the stuff, digging the holes, burying, hiding, scraping away with my pointy little claws, and rolling up into a ball when necessary.

That’s me right now.

See, at first, I was too darn overwhelmed and tired to write.
After we moved a few weeks ago.
From our house that we adore
to a rental – only 10 houses away – for which we are eternally grateful.

And at this moment, our house house has some plastic sheeting stuff protecting the open walls.
Our house has no roof on the garage.
Our house has holes around it exposing the foundation.
Our house has a dumpster out front.
Our house has closed shades.
Our house has empty rooms.
Our house has a pallet of bagged concrete mix in the yard.
And our house has a port-a-potty in the driveway.

Meanwhile, our rental is as wonderful as could be.
Filled with our furniture and our pictures and our family.
Around the corner from our house house.

And still I miss our house house.
Our home..

I miss doing the laundry without having to think about every step of the process.
I miss knowing where my utensils are. (Where did I put the spatula again?)
I miss my kids taking for granted their space and their own rooms.
I miss looking out my front windows at the towering pines behind my neighbor’s house.
I miss my screened-in porch.

I miss everyone running on autopilot and not needing me quite so much.

Me the security.
Me the foundation.
Me the steady.
Me the solid.

And I know I’m deeply grateful for…
some other stuff.
Lots of other stuff.

I am. I really am. (I’m sure of it.)

But mostly I’m feeling whiny, cranky, sad, mad and like the scritchy, itchy stalks and sticks surrounding the fluffy, soft plant gone to seed in the photo above.

Wish I could be that puffball ready to let go with the wind.
I really do.
But I’m not.
So there’s that.

And that’s cool. Because one day the breeze will come – and I’ll find myself aloft once more.

But for now, I’ll itch and scritch and twitch my way through this change.
This thing that I don’t have a map for.

In the midst of a bigger thing that none of us have a map for.

We’re on our way.

Take good care,

what’s down there?


Trust is a place that my life becomes smooth and stable.
Steadiness emerges when I trust.

Trust the moment. Trust another. Trust myself.

When I can do this, trust whatever is showing up, whoever is showing up, and trust myself to be with however it unfolds, then I feel like I can handle the world. (Which means I can.)

When I lose my trust, I lose my feet. I scramble to find solid ground.
It’s not my grip on things that matters so much.

It’s my feet that matter.

Look down.
(For real, go ahead now, look down.)

See them there.

ah, yes.

Hello feet.

Hello ground.

Hello day.

Hello life.

Take good care,

how do you do?

At the end of this day – or this life – the how is what we’ll remember.

And it’s what we’ll be remembered for.

Not the what. Or the why. Or likely even the when or the where.

The how.

How we sit with another.
How we stand with ourselves.
How we talk with another.
How we quiet with ourselves.

And on and on.

The how is our legacy.
How we be.
How we do.

Therein lies our essence.
That thing which mists in the air as breath leaves body and
something unseen lingers on.

Watch your how. Feel your how. Discover your how.

Here’s to a smoother, wiser and ever evolving how.

Much love and admiration,

how’s your grip today?

Well my friend, my computer bit the dust two days ago. I’ve been on borrowed time for a while and, I’m sorry to say, the machine is no more.

sniffle. I loved that thing. We wrote many many pages together.

And apparently I’m one discerning – er, picky – girl when it comes to my computer. I know this because I’ve declined two that have landed on my doorstep and am awaiting the arrival of the holy grail of my new machine.

Or so I hope.

In the meantime, I’m writing this on the blessed Mailchimp app that I had to download onto my little phone.

Because who wants to write a blog / newsletter on a phone keyboard?

I’m sure someone does but it isn’t me. Unless there is no other option. Then I’ll do it.

Which I am.

So this is me making it work over here.

And I know you’re making it work in your own ways over there.

Because that’s what we do.

We make it work.
In as compassionate, courageous and loving a way as we can, we make it work.

This moment, this day, this year, this life.

We shape that which we are given.

I think for now, all I want to share is this.
A reminder of sorts.
A momentary anchor if you choose.
A bit of ground if you desire.

Shape that which you are given.

This clay is just for you.

Much love from this little screen and keyboard of mine,

p.s. Godspeed new computer… may we find each other soon.

PRY Reopening Announcement

It’s humid as a rainforest here on my oak canopied block in North Carolina. I just returned from a walk with a dear neighbor friend and it was heavenly to come home into air conditioning, a technology that I sometimes fight against.
But right now, I’m super duper grateful for it. phew.

And so, I’d like to welcome you to another air conditioned space!
Check out this video to walk through my new office!!!

And since an office isn’t much good without some clients, here is my new and improved scheduling tool!
My business over the past 7 years has been a living, breathing organism.
It’s inhaled and exhaled.
It’s expanded and contracted.

Just like you have in your own way.

My work in yoga therapy is to help other’s navigate the sticky parts of their lives. Whether it’s something tricky for the mind, the heart, or the body, we’ve got a deep toolkit we can dive into together to help you worry less, sleep better and find more space in the hard stuff.

This approach is how I take care of me.
It’s how I have the space and perspective to write in the way that I do.
And to see my life in the way that I do.

Before I leave you, I want to share 5 reasons why I know we’d have fun together helping you too…

#1 Because we both adore our families and friends and want to give the best parts of us to themAlways.

#2 Because we both know we should move our bodies – and that we feel better after doing it – but it can feel SO hard to motivate to do it in the first place. (SOOOOOOOO hard.)

#3 Because we both yearn for an undercurrent of calm in this hustle bustle of “return to normal-ish” 2021.

#4  Because we both know we can’t change some (er… many) of the hard parts of life, but we can always build more inner strength, stability, and flexibility both in our minds and in our bodies. 

#5 Because we’re both insatiable learners. And we’ll never stop growing or wanting to do more than we do right now.

If that’s you, then let’s talk about how a session could be the just-right-for-you support that you need right now. You can book a 20 minute complimentary consultation so we can have exactly that chat.

Or if it’s been over a year since we last met but you already know you want to come in for a full session, you can book a 60 minute “new client” session. (Even if it’s not your very first session, if it’s been a while since you were with live with me, I’d like you to register with this link.)

I’ve got a little half smile on my face right now. Which is partly because Mira – my cat – is beside me on the bench and she’s super soft. And it’s also because I’m excited nervous to get back in the office and to help you get further down the road that you want to be on.

I hope “excited nervous” touches you in the mix today too. Whether it’s about signing up for a session together or about something else, may you find a way to push into your own new and courageous next step.

Just a tad. Just a taste. We step forward together.

With gratitude,

p.s. Here’s that scheduling link again. Stay cool and well today.

ready for your power play

There is doing. And there is stillness.

It all exists at once, in the same moment.

Look down and you see one thing, look up and you see another.

Look around and you see one thing, look in and you see another.

You have the

to pause.

You have the

to stop.

You have the

to Be.


Just wow.

This life pulses and quakes beneath your skin as in the air around you.

It’s worth it to be Here, I promise.

In the Real. In the Now.
It’s worth a look around and up.

Be well friend,

p.s. Forward this along to someone who could use a reminder of their own strength and power.

an interview!? on moi!!!

So, we went to the beach a couple of weeks ago. And camped our little booties off in the pop-up tent trailer. (Evidence above.)

It was sweaty, salty and super sunny.

Sounds spectacular, right?

Weirdly, it was. And is. Because the contrast of discomfort to comfort was so stark – as it always is camping at Frisco campground on Cape Hatteras National Seashore – that the fleeting moments of balance were heavenly. And I’d do it all over again. (Which I have many times since I was born and intend to do many more times before I die.)

Meanwhile, I missed writing you.
But air and space create the necessary contrast with connection.
And silence beautifully contrasts with words.

So that was silence. This is words. And this next thing is some more words.

Recently, a publication called VoyageRaleigh asked to profile me for an interview. Which was great fun because I’ve had quite a few people over the years ask me that familiar question we all know, “How did you end up doing what you do?”

So, here’s your chance to learn more.

Take a pause with me and read it now,

I’m grateful you keep showing up here at my blog. I’m grateful I keep showing up here at my blog.

Because I know this place makes me a better writer, yoga therapist, mother / wife / daughter / sister / friend / neighbor / on and on, and simply a better all-around human being.

Oh, and partly because I missed our last connection and (er – mostly) because I want to share some stuff with you, you’ll get two other short emails from me this week,
one on Thursday and one on Saturday. 

Thanks for being with me.
Now and always as we tred this big ol’ ball we call Earth.

With gratitude,

p.s. If you read the interview and you’re sparked to connect, just drop me a note back (hit “reply” to this email) or leave a comment on the article. I’d be super psyched to hear from you.

all I’ve ever asked for is…

When courage bubbles up, I’ve learned something important for me. About me. I must jump on the moment – this very moment of flames jumping skyward – to take action. Because I know that this specific flavor of action for me is a passing wind. It isn’t a constant breeze.

And I sit and wonder, have I cooked enough?

For this idea or that action?
For this opportunity or that possibility?

Is my knowledge cooked enough?
Is my skill cooked enough?
Has the timer gone off yet?

And why, may I ask, isn’t there a timer on this brain of mine anyway? Can’t it tell me when I’m ready already? Like a label maker (out the back of my head maybe) that spits out the little white strip of block print, “READY.” Or when the stove completes its pre-heat and beeps. Or the little pin pops out so you know “Turkey done!”

That’s all I’m asking for from this body-mind-heart mashup of me.

Is that really too much to ask?

Because sometimes / many times, I’m not sure if I’m the hydrangea on the left or the one on the right.

Am I at my peak and of many shades of lovely and ripeness in my blues and purples?

Or am I barely there, mostly green with a blossom or two that has saturated with color?

I don’t know. I really don’t. And most days it doesn’t matter.

But today, as I stare at these two flowers, I really do wonder. Which of these beautiful blooms mirrors my brain? Which one tells me what I need to know about where I’m at? About where I’m going?

And I suppose I know the answer. The simple truth – as it always is.

Right. Both show me where I’m at,
both show me where I’ve been,
both show me where I’m going. Both.

I am both.

We are both,
you and me.

Huh. Look at us.
Look at us in green. Look at us in bloom.

We’re really quite remarkable, you know.

With love and admiration,