Oceanlight Yoga - Yoga classes, workshops and retreats

29/06/2025

Walking through the still-sleeping village, I could feel the familiar tension in my jaw. Teeth that wanted to gnash but were so well socialised that all their unspent energy travelled instead to my hands, clenched and ready - for what, a brawl with a passing pigeon?

What, you might wonder then, was causing such tightness and inner agro. My friend, I’ll let you into a little secret. It might surprise you but here we go…

Was the object of all the inner teeth gnashing and fist balling an annoying family member, or perhaps the latest antics of some cruel and heinous world leader, or even the van driver who came round the corner so fast he nearly took my toes with him. Forgive me, I’m delaying. No, no, it was none of these, it was quite simply - me.

As this bombshell landed I felt my body start to relax. I laughed. How foolish, how human. Here I was again, making myself wrong.

This time it was my feelings that I’d unwittingly brought judgement down upon. In my head I wasn’t allowed to feel sad, not on a beautiful day like this, strolling down the hill for a sea dip at dawn. How ungrateful of me to be feeling sad!

But in catching myself I realised that pushing my sadness away I was creating an inner battle. I was literally fighting life.

The sadness needed me to feel it. Not to polish it up or push it down. Like anything alive it just wanted to be known, given breath. As soon as I did everything shifted.

The shoulders dropped (hadn’t even noticed them lift), the legs moved more freely and my heart lightened. Not so difficult really, but somehow so easy to forget.

I don’t have all the answers by any means but this not fighting life, this allowing ourselves to be as and who we are is at the heart of all that I do and believe to be true. It’s through liberating feeling and honouring our truths that we free not only ourselves but those around us too. I wonder what is it that you can give some space to today? What is it that you’ve pushed away that wants a little of your time and inner kindness?

24/04/2025

What brings you alive? For me it’s mornings like this where Spirit pushes me out of the door “go now, yes I know no rain is forecast but it’s coming, go now!”

Wandering across the wide expanse of sun-speckled beach and finding myself entirely alone at my favourite sometimes-here-sometimes-not tidal pool (which storms often fill with sand so only a tiny water pixie could bathe).

Yet today, today it is body height deep and not a soul to witness my spontaneous stripping off, plunging in, my virtual mermaid tail swishing with joy. No-one that is except the 2 walkers on the clifftop above - are they breathtaken by my boldness or wondering how they too can scramble down rocks and into the balm of sea-salted cool?

I’ll never know, but what I do is that to follow these nudges, whispers and prods is unfailingly what brings me more and ever more into my aliveness. More and ever more into the deep gratitude of a simple nourishing life.

23/02/2025

Iztuzu beach, hidden away off the beaten track, where protected space allows endangered turtles to make their nests and a warm breeze counters the sun. Voted amongst the best beaches in Europe* it’s just a walk or short ride from the idyllic Lagoon Retreat where I’ll be hosting a group this September.

The Lagoon itself is steeped in nature, a place where heavy clothes and life’s pressures can slide away from tired shoulders. The healing balm of salt water and sunshine just waiting to envelop you with barely another soul for miles.

This retreat truly is one. 7 restful days and 7 starry nights in a haven of peaceful seclusion. Time to connect, time to yourself and the chance to release and reground at a depth rarely felt in today’s chaotic pace.

Movement sessions are languid and will allow your body the freedom to open and sigh; meditation is accompanied by the soft concert of cicadas and occasional ti**le of mountain goats nibbling nearby; sharing circles hold you in tenderness and the sort of kindness that reminds you it’s ok to be you.

This is a week where less is more, a simple but profound paradise for the soul.

If this sounds like your kind of space you can read more through the link in my bio or drop me a message. I’m happy to chat with you, arrange a manageable payment plan and will take care of all the little details like the 30 minute transfer to and from Dalaman airport so you’re looked after every step of the way.

I can’t wait and I’d be so happy to welcome you to this most special experience.

*Trip Advisor Traveler’s Choice 2025

21/02/2025

What NOT to expect at my mini retreat Yoga Circles…
- No complex or challenging yoga postures (these spaces are for ‘real’ women with aches, pains and comfy old leggings not a Lululemon in sight unless you happen to have some). Instead, you’ll be guided through deliciously expansive, kind and intuitive movement that comes solely from what your body wants to do.

- No serious-minded instruction, but instead an invitation to rest, reconnect, regroup, perhaps to play, to giggle or to shed long held tears… A blissful mixture of stillness, spontaneous channelled meditations, deep relaxation, oracle cards, lovingly home made snacks and heart to heart sharing by the fire.

- No judgement, no need to self-edit or to pretend in how you show up, what you say and do or don’t do. Instead, the relief and release, the heart lifting joy of being welcomed wholly as you, just as you are, warts and doubts and tiredness and all. This perhaps the greatest magic, the soul balm of honest connection, restoring your faith in life and in yourself.

You won’t leave changed, but you might feel that way as you’re freed from the burdens and constraints that bind you day to day. You will certainly leave with shoulders further from your ears, a heart more open and a sense that you do, despite everything, belong.

All details in my bio. I’d love to be with you here.

01/01/2025

Darling one, I wish you a year of less…
Less stress
Less strain
Less pushing and striving
Less wondering “am I (good) enough”
Less regrets
Less time on fruitless tasks
Less hurry
Less depletion
Less pain
Less endless scrolling (oops)
Less feeling you are only something when you are busy doing (I am queen of this one)
Less demoralising comparisonitis
Less despair
Less thinking it’s your job to fix others
Less being pulled in a thousand directions
Less goals, less trying, less everything in fact. Other than…

Heart-bursting joy, childlike wonder, deep gratitude for all you already have (and are), soothing friendships, deep inner calm, trusting in that still small voice inside you that wants only the best for you, your loved ones, the world itself…
More rest, more time to breathe, more time to be you, time to let go a little more and time to find out who you really are when everything else stops.

I love you (did I say more love?). Yes more love and it starts right now. From me to you with every cell of my being. The world needs you - not as a brighter, bouncier version of you but just as you are. Yes truly.

Because when we are all who and how we truly are then we take our places like the leaves on the trees, the ripples on the ocean and together we create the most amazing technicolour humanity there can be.

07/12/2024

This is such a beautiful post. It reminds me of how I experienced much of life and how the tenderness of Scaravelli inspired yoga touched me so deeply. The invitation to be kind to every part of me opened up a whole new world and way of being.

I’ve spent so much of my life being the strong one—the one who keeps it together when everything feels like it’s falling apart, the one who pushes through even when the weight feels unbearable.

I’m so used to wearing that strength like armor that I almost forget what it feels like to be soft, to let my guard down. That’s why being treated with kindness means more than words can express. It’s not about needing someone to save me—I can handle the hard stuff—but feeling safe enough to be vulnerable, even for a moment.

When you’re used to carrying so much, even the smallest acts of gentleness feel like a reminder that I don’t have to be strong all the time, that it’s okay to rest. And sometimes, that’s exactly what I need.

~Mj Blossoms ~ Writer’s Blossoms

~ Art by Barley Bisher

16/06/2024

A little while ago one of my friends started humming a tune. It wasn’t her usual kind. The mug of tea in my hand hovered half way to my mouth as I listened, transfixed.

I waited a moment before asking “do you like that tune?” “Oh I don’t know, I’m not even sure why I’m humming it.” A smile broke over my face “it was dad’s favourite” I say.

Slowly slowly the constellations are reforming and Dad is taking up his new form beyond form, boundless and free.

Today as I paused in the garden after mowing the lawn a neighbour’s guitar strummed as he softly sang the melody. You can guess the tune… the same that my friend had hummed: ‘The Sound of Silence’ by Simon and Garfunkel.

Thank you, Dad, for letting me know you are still there and thank you to all the friends who have thought of me and sent messages on this first Fathers’ Day without him in physical being.

I’m sending my love to everyone with or without a Dad, with or without the love you would want to receive from him if you could (especially if you never received such love) and to all the dads working to be supportive, wise and loving fathers despite the many obstacles.

Now more than ever I have such respect and awe for what it means and what it takes to be a father.

20/05/2024

This farewell feels so final. An odd sensation as dad who once took up so much space is no longer here, no longer available to hold or hug or laugh or even to get annoyed with!

Shadows real and imagined play tricks with my mind. A movie screen of memories begins its nightly roll just as I’m meant to be falling asleep. Daybreak sees me hugging my bed not wanting the truth of the light.

I thought I was no stranger to grief. But this, this is something new, its potency a tumult of wild emotion at odds with burgeoning Spring.

What has surprised me is that it’s not one dad I am letting go. It is many. The dad who held my hand when I aged 4 jumped delightedly into crisp and curly autumn leaves; the dad who blew up inflatable arm bands urging patience, so I could splash in the pool like the little mermaid I was at heart; the one who guided my education with wisdom and understanding and the one who celebrated each music exam I passed, praised each new (endless) sketch of favourite 80’s pop stars gleefully completed…

The dad who stood by me when my longest adult relationship imploded, the dad who believed in me more than I ever did and the one who showed me what resilience and courage truly meant… so many dads to release. I wonder if I ever will.

And maybe I’m not meant to, maybe it’s through the remembering that he will stay somehow alive. “I am his daughter” plays in my ear, along with Sting’s How Fragile We Are, how fragile we are. It is a tender joy to embody everything he taught me, to live on as his.

I was talking with my neighbour who recently lost his beloved dog. It is not so different, for it is the space in the heart that is felt the most. Sometimes my heart feels it cannot take the depth of this grief. Sometimes it is the raw vulnerability that lets me know I’m alive.

And I am alive, his daughter, in this place of blooming sun and ocean waves. Breath by breath this life goes on and amongst it all I am so thankful for everything we shared even the hard times, the misunderstandings and the tears.

30/04/2024

So here it is. The day I knew was coming. But not so soon. Too soon. (I think it’s always too soon.) Sat in the twilight wondering… what are you supposed to do the night before your father’s funeral?

The walk in solitude on near empty beach is done. Sand between my toes proves I was there less than one little hour ago.

Still fresh, that quiet moment by the river as sunlight dappled and danced. Asking for ground, turning my face to the sky and offering thanks. So much thanks.

Somehow arms move and ingredients meld to become a favourite meal, though the appetite is away in the cloudy fringes of existing, while he he is gone. Fork rises and falls away. The food though flavoursome is bland tonight.

Mind suspended somewhere outside of me, I stroke with absent hand the soft fur of the cat curled obliviously, innocently, at my side.

For death has not touched his whiskery face. Not passed its shadow over his long and fluffsome tail. No this death, this loss is for me alone to bear.

While others also mourn, I am his only daughter. His firstborn. Not quite the last person to touch his withered brow but almost. Not quite the final one to hold his hand but nearly.

And the crow flies west and the blackbird trills for Spring. And the robin gazes into my soul as if he knows, he knows.

So I sit and don’t know what else to do. What else is there to do? But be. Be all that he with a father’s love would want for me to be.

Remembering the twinkle of his eyes and the way he smiled, even when the world made little sense to him any more. How we would breathe together, foreheads touching. Just breathing. That was all we finally shared.

10/03/2024

This woman. This woman is the reason I started yoga all the way back in 1983 at the tender age of 17 (you can do the maths!).

This woman was a mother of three, two of them, my brothers, unexpected twins. I figure that she needed the sanctuary of class, of savasana, more than most.

I’m grateful to her in so many ways. I admire her for the many heartaches and losses she endured with such grace. The dreams she pushed aside so we could live ours.

The way she encouraged me to fly the nest and travel the world, back in the days when the only contact was by blue airmail (remember them?) and the occasional telegram: “I’m coming home. See you in 48 hours.”

This woman dedicated (and still dedicates) herself to the lives of others. She is truly Mother, of the Great Mother.

Today I took her to tea and yet again counted our many blessings. At 87 she is the reason I’m less afraid of getting old (she still practises yoga btw, albeit without a headstand in sight!)

Love you, mum. Thank you for everything, for you, for life.

08/03/2024

Sister I see you
Your heart blown out wide
The spaces inside you
Where memories hide

Sister we’re different
Yet somehow the same
United together
In laughter and pain

There is something deeply honouring about the same yet different-ness we share as women. Our lives and life experiences apparently wildly at odds. And yet….

I feel it’s as much about the visceral sense of oneself when born into a woman’s body as it is about the cultural and social norms, prejudices, expectations and abuse.

Our very bones speak and move differently. Our very organs declare “I am womb-an”.

It took me a long long time to arrive (back) into my woman’s body fully, to embrace her imperfect magic and recognise her as me. To treasure her, soothe the hurt parts and reclaim my power. No doubt there is further to journey.

On Monday 11th March I’ll be holding Circle space for the sharing of heart-warming stories and sisterhood as part of the 6 day WOMAN event at Lanteague near Zelah. I’d love to connect with you there - still a few spaces left 🌷💛🌷 funds raised in support of Cornwall Woman’s Refuge


📷 Irina Petrichei & Vaishuren

01/03/2024

Exhale.
Let yourself empty. Feel every little thing that’s been weighing you down drain away through your toes. Aaaah…

Inhale.
Welcome the fullness. The breath surging to meet your heart with a hug. Life flooding in to hold you.

Precious moments connecting back to yourself. The simplicity of life underneath all the demands, burdens, burn out. Burn back in. Into the flame of who you truly are 🔥

Sending love. 📷