​After practicing yoga religiously at a local yoga studio for only 6 months, I was approached by my teacher after class. This  beautiful tall and thin Caucasian lady who I would take class from often said, “You have a beautiful practice, have you thought about doing teacher training?” I am sure that her compliment was well-intentioned and sincere at the time, but now I realize that it reinforced my harmful habits of basing contentment and happiness off approval and perfection. This was a pattern that repeated itself over and over again in many different forms.
 
So, for years I was practicing and teaching the poses from this place. I trusted other peoples’ knowledge and capabilities over my own, so instead of questioning the method as to why things are taught or practiced in a certain way, I began to question myself. Instead of critically thinking of how to put a class together, I would pull new material from other classes. Yet, for years I felt as though I was just replicating what was taught by my peers, teachers, and teacher’s teachers. I strived to reinvent the wheel by making my classes more-so yoga choreography with intricate transitions and funky variations on poses, but still something was missing. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, until I began searching for answers and trusting my instincts. I later found, that the yoga community at large, including myself, taught the same. Think of your traditional “All Levels” Vinyasa Flow class; fast-paced flow geared towards students who are either athletic, hyper-mobile, coordinated, or all of the above.
 
That’s when I realized; I was teaching form over function. Even if I would tell my students to find the postures in their body, I would reinforce the complete opposite. I congratulated my students for looking aesthetically pretty, physically adjusted my students as if to say they weren’t doing it “right,” and demoed postures as if to say that my way of doing it was what students had to strive for. Without realizing it, I was encouraging competition, approval, perfection, inclusivity, self-judgment, and attachment; all that yoga is not. Instead, yoga is about accepting what is and learning from the present moment to make choices without attaching yourself to expectations or particular outcomes. So, with that is mind, who cares what it looks like. What we should really be concerned about is using asana as a means to be in the body and actively participate in the current experience that is in front of us. 
 
It may have taken me years to come back to the true nature of yoga, but that is the work. So I will continue to show up and be with what is right in front of me and what happens next is what happens next. 

​Upon discovering the idea of yoga 6 years ago, I was sold on the physical asana-based practice. Considering my background of playing competitive sports and being physically active, that is all that I knew. After taking my first group yoga class in a heated room, I was hooked. I remember feeling strong, refreshed, and more flexible. I’m sure that the teacher set a beautiful intention for class and carried the theme throughout to provide purpose for the practice, but at the time it didn’t land. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, I just wasn’t ready to receive it.
 
Within a year of consistent physical yoga practice, I decided to do teacher training. I was at a career crossroads, so I thought, “I like yoga so why not teach it?” Our first homework assignment was to write a paper on, “What is yoga to you and why do you practice?” As Mark Twain once said, “Write what you know.” So, that is exactly what I did. I knew I liked yoga because it was fun, helped me get out of my own head, and made me feel good. I also knew that because of that, I wanted to teach yoga. That was it, plain and simple.
 
Upon receiving feedback on my paper, the lead teacher trainer wrote. “Wow, that is a lot of pressure to put on yourself. Let go of your expectations; you never know what will surprise you along the way.” That was probably one of the best pieces of advice anyone could have given me at that time.
 
After learning the history, concepts, principles, and tools of the practice, I set out on exactly what I had my eyes on the entire time; making a career out of teaching yoga. Even though I was still new to the practice, I got out there and taught my heart out. As I taught, I learned and practiced what I preached and began living my yoga, not just teaching it. Yes, I became a better teacher, but more importantly I became a better person. I found my purpose, my voice, and my true self.
 
Now, I am met with something else I wasn’t quite ready for; a minor shoulder injury. So, in the meantime, my yoga practice is shifting from asana-based to consistent meditation. Let’s be honest. Meditation is hard, which is why most people including myself find excuses not to do it. But my circumstance has presented me with the perfect opportunity to reconnect with my meditation practice that was quite honestly not very consistent. I may not have asked for this, but I sure am ready to receive.

​I’ve been back home now for two weeks after my month of travel in Europe and have so much to share with you!
 
In early May, I set out on the first leg of my trip to Italy, where I co-led my second yoga retreat with my friend and fellow Yoga Teacher, D’Andre Clayton. After countless hours of hard work and planning, the months of anticipation, small hiccups along the way, and a long journey, we finally arrived. Perched atop a mountain peak accessible by small windy roads in the countryside of Italy was our home for the next 7 nights. I remember getting out of the cab and warmly greeted with hugs and kisses by Paola and Irish, life partners and co-owners of Locanda del Gallo, a beautiful country house and yoga retreat center.
 
After settling in we gathered for our first dinner. Maybe it was our intimate group or the crisp Italian air, but everyone opened up to one another so freely and from the first night I knew that we would become a family. Every day we gathered for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We meditated together, practiced yoga together, and learned together during the daily workshops. We further bonded during our adventure to the medieval town of Perugia, wine-tasting in a castle, and a cooking class where we learned to make pasta and dessert. It didn’t matter that D’Andre and I were the “teachers” and they were the “students,” we all had valuable stories, experiences, and lessons to share with one another and grew because of it.
 
At the close of our final day together, the air was bittersweet because we all knew it would be our last night. As I got ready for dinner, I wondered where my boyfriend, Xavier was. My friends who came on the retreat told me he was probably at the pool and that as soon as I was done getting ready I should go get him. As I finished up, I rushed out to get Xavier thinking that he wasn’t ready for dinner. Yet, as I approached the steps to the pool, there was a path of flower petals leading down to the gorgeous infinity pool overlooking the Italian countryside. There, he was waiting for me. As our eyes met we both cried because we knew what was happening. We grabbed each other’s hands as I listened to him speaking intently. And then, he got down on one knee. Before he could even finish asking, “Will you marry me?…” I already nodded and said, “Yes!” It was such a special moment. And, so much sweeter because we were able to share that moment with our retreat family. So, together on our last night we all celebrated with champagne, great food, and of course great company.
 
As dinner came to a close, we went around the table and shared our key takeaways from our experience of the retreat. Everyone shared something they found of value that was personal to them, and yet, the messages were all universal and relatable. We laughed, cried, toasted, hugged and kissed each other. When it came time for me to share, I smiled with contentment and said, “I am exactly where I need to be.” Everything just felt right. I was humbled by the whole experience and yet so proud to stand at that table surrounded by amazing people doing what I love with the man I love by my side. The entire process leading up to that moment; doubt, failures, late nights, hard work, risk, discipline and persistence gave me the opportunity to enjoy the sweetness of those moments.

​When I tell people that I teach yoga for a living I am immediately met with the question, “Wow! You must be so peaceful and happy all the time.” Yes, for the most part I am. I love what I do, and I love the connections I make. However, I stress out just as much as the majority of the American population. In my default mode, I catch myself worrying about bits of the past or obsessing over  parts of the future. I ask myself questions like, "Am I doing this right? How will my actions or words be perceived? Will people understand me?" As you can imagine, this makes it hard for me to get things done due to my indecisiveness. 
 
Although I am a yoga teacher, I too can get caught up in the busyness of everyday life that I forget to practice the very thing that I teach. From teaching public and private classes to leading workshops, trainings, and retreats, I find it to be a very delicate balance between finding time for my own practice and offering it for others.
 
Due to a build-up of recent stress and tension causing a lack of sleep and stiffness in my neck, I began seeing an acupuncturist. During my evaluation, the acupuncturist asked, “Do you obsess over your thoughts?” Hmm. Such a simple question and yet so precise.
 
Ironically, a friend and student of mine gifted me a book called, Radical Wholeness, maybe a day or two after I saw the acupuncturist. As she handed me the book she said, “I think you will really resonate with it.” After just reading the first chapter, I already felt a deep connection to everything the author had to say. It was a combination between a coming out party and an intervention. I felt relieved to unveil an underlying cause for why I create my stress/anxiety and yet surprised by the parallels I identified with in the book.
 
In the first chapter, the author discusses what he calls the Chosen Five: the western cultural construct asserting that touch, taste, smell, hearing and sight are the senses that activate our intelligence. The author, Philip Sheperd states, “What each of our senses supports is an aspect of the Story that is foundational to its message about what it means to be human: the self-contained within a boundary.” He introduces Kathryn Linn Geurts who studied the senses of the Anlo-Ewe culture of West Africa. In her studies she finds that the Anlo-Ewe culture contrastingly consider speech and balance to be a sense. The way in which we view speech reinforces our cultural belief that the self is contained within a boundary, therefore, we use speech as a way to present our ideas, opinions, and even ourselves to try to manipulate a certain response. Whereas the Anlo-Ewe people see speech as a means of discovery and learning through the experience of connection. They also see balance to be a sense in that way. They believe that balance is “a felt relationship between your center of gravity and that of earth.” Philip Sheperd elaborates on the Anlo-Ewe culture by breaking down one word, Seselelame which translates to, ‘feel-feel-at-flesh-inside.’ This word refers to what is perceived through the sensations of the body. As Philip Sheperd boldly states, “A nurturing of seselalame is nowhere to be seen in our formal education of children. Rather than ‘feel-feel-at-flesh-inside,’ we are teaching ‘think-think-at-head-inside.’
 
Perhaps that is the problem; the fact that stress has become so normalized in our culture that is becomes tolerable, acceptable, even encouraged in some instances. I too am guilty of suppressing my anxiety and stress until I become so disconnected and forget to be open to life. But, much like the practice of yoga, I am reminded that the point is not the be perfect or to have all the answers. Instead, it is to experience the process of feeling, being, and connecting to everything that makes me whole. And through the act of being whole, I can become more present. 

​I love the conversations I am hearing and witnessing. At work, on social media, on TV, you name it. It’s happening. People all around me are discussing difficult topics of racism, equal rights, representation, harassment, gun laws, politics, and global issues. Once taboo topics of conversation are now shared among friends, family, co-workers, and most importantly with those of opposing beliefs. 
 
Every day when I walk into class to teach I learn from the diversity of my students. Even without verbal conversation, I see my students through their practice, their movement, their breath. Together we navigate relative forms of challenge, resistance, and discomfort to walk away with something valuable; something learned. 
 
The root word “Asana,” is often considered a yoga posture especially in Western Yoga. Therefore, it is easy to mistake the practice for being about nailing the perfect yoga pose. But, the traditional translation is defined as “comfortable seat.” I guarantee though, that if you sat in any asana for an extended period of time you will probably experience some sort of resistance and discomfort. We oftentimes view those sensations as a bad thing and do our very best to avoid them. However, resistance gives us feedback much like conversations that welcome diverse opinions. Just like in the practice, it’s not about what is "right" vs "wrong," that is not the point. It is about starting a conversation in order to listen, understand, and being open to each lesson along the way. Perhaps with these new and exciting conversations happening in the world we can turn discomfort into tolerance, listening, and understanding.