At the heart of my work is a devotion to remembering. Remembering what brings us true pleasure. Remembering what slows us down enough to hear the quiet whisper of intuition. Remembering that within us lies a vast well of wisdom, love, and connection—always available when we pause and create space.

For me, yoga is the path that serves this remembering. It is not simply a series of movements, but a sacred practice that opens us to the fullness of being alive. Yoga teaches us to slow down, to breathe deeply, to feel, and to honour each sensation as holy. In this slowing, we rediscover what lights us up—what brings joy, delight, and connection. Pleasure is not a distraction on the path; it is part of the path. It is what softens our armour and awakens devotion in the body.

My practice is infused with the spirit of Bhakti yoga—the yoga of devotion. Devotion is not heavy or solemn; it is playful, loving, alive. It looks like song and mantra, where the voice becomes a prayer. It looks like dance, where the body expresses freedom and praise. It looks like laughter, when we remember not to take ourselves too seriously. In these moments of joy, we are closest to the divine, because we are fully present, fully open, fully ourselves.

Retreating and creating ritual are ways of stepping into this devotion. By carving out time away from the demands of daily life, we can touch into both the depth and the lightness of our own nature. We remember the medicine of movement, stillness, and silence—and also the medicine of singing loudly, laughing together, and delighting in the simple beauty of being alive. This is the discipline I return to again and again: a discipline not of force, but of reverence.

As women, we are guided by cycles that mirror the natural world. The phases of Maiden, Mother, Maga, and Crone invite us to honour the seasons of play, of creation, of wisdom, of deep knowing. Within each phase is the invitation to celebrate life in its fullness: to weep, to rest, to sing, to dance, to share.

Circle magnifies this celebration. When we gather, we remember we are not alone. We are reminded that laughter is medicine, that joy expands when shared, and that devotion does not always look quiet and still. Sometimes it looks like tears. Sometimes it looks like song. Sometimes it looks like the simple, sacred act of delighting in each other’s company.

My philosophy is simple: create the space, slow down, and let pleasure and presence guide you back to yourself. Through yoga, ritual, dance, song, and community, we remember not only how to live, but how to live joyfully, devotedly, and in harmony with the cycles of nature.