Janet Stone Yoga

11/02/2026

Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.
There are many ways to kneel and kiss the ground. - Rumi

2026 YTT begins FEBRUARY 15

09/02/2026

It feels as if someone reached over and turned up the volume to 11 and can cause  my system to feel saturated as if it’s tipped into a state of overwhelm. The constant barrage on our mental, emotional, and physical bodies is so normalized that slowing down can feel unnatural. Pausing to feel, to digest, to ask the harder questions, to actually listen for the answers…it requires courage in a culture built on acceleration, optimization and productivity.
If I’m honest, there’s a part of me that still resists slowing down. A part that prefers the sense of importance of busyness, the familiar momentum that keeps me slightly ahead of the more uncomfortable truths: that everything is impermanent, I can’t control what happens in the world, that my humanness can feel like a tangled mess of vulnerability.
It’s as if I have to force myself to slow my roll, to undo, unwind, and allow a soft rhythm to take over. At first it nearly feels as if my mind speeds up and can grips its loops tighter but eventually it begins to loosen and slow down. From there I can sense my wholeness again—mind, body, spirit weaving back into one conversation. Here! Here! Coming back to this breath, this moment and allowing the nervous system to rest and digest without gripping, without getting pulled into the endless drama loop.
Rest isn’t passive; it’s a reclamation. When we allow ourselves to settle, we begin to drop below the surface of habit—below the ways we’ve stayed busy to avoid heartbreak, old trauma, boredom, disconnection, or the quiet ache of not feeling fully alive. Only from this deeper ground can healing truly begin. Only here do we become capable of choosing differently.
And this healing isn’t just emotional or spiritual. In slowness, the body finally gets to do what it knows how to do: rebuild the immune system, restore the adrenals, repair what’s been frayed. In stillness, we remember our original intelligence.
Slowing down is not a retreat from life—it’s the way back into it.
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03/02/2026

Recently, my meditation time can feel like a flurry of grief, anger, and a deep sense of discomfort in all of the uncertainty.

The world — literally and figuratively — feels as though it is burning. Cruelty is loud. Fear travels fast. Even those who long for justice, kindness, and care can feel fractured, reactive and powered by outrage.

And so the question arises — quietly, insistently: What good does it do to sit here? How can stillness matter when there is so much that needs to change?

Practice is not denial, nor is it passivity. It is preparation.

When I slow down enough to feel what is actually here — the fear, the heartbreak, the urgency — I begin to regain clarity. My knee-jerk reaction is interrupted. It can strengthen my capacity to respond rather than react. I remember how to stand without hardening, how to act without burning myself out.

Staying centered in times like these is not indulgent. It’s an act of protest and sustainability. For the nervous system. For discernment. For EACH OTHER.

I continue to practice because it is how I remember who I am, and how I learn — again and again — how to meet this world with steadiness, courage, and compassion.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, uncertain, or exhausted, you are not alone.

19/01/2026

Retreat to Thailand
Koh Samui • March 28–April 4, 2026

There are moments when practice asks us to step away from the familiar, so we can listen more closely.

After eighteen years away, I’m returning to Thailand—to the island rhythms that once shaped me. The coconuts and curries, white sand and warm water, the bodywork, the culture, the people. This retreat is an invitation to slow down together, to soften, and to remember what’s essential.

We’ll move and breathe each day, let the nervous system settle, and allow the body to be nourished. Practice won’t be something we add on, but something we return to—held by the land, the sea, and the shared rhythm of being together.

If you feel the quiet pull toward practice, nature, and community, I would love to share this time with you.

08/01/2026

There is something different that happens when we gather in person.

Breath shared in the same room.
Voices chanting together.
Practice unfolding not on a screen, but in real time, with real bodies, real life moving around us.

In 2026, I’ll be returning to a few sacred places (and visiting some new ones) to practice together—slowly, intentionally, and in relationship with the land and with one another.

These gatherings are about remembering.
Listening more closely.
Letting practice meet us exactly where we are.

Come join me near or far.

.room

07/01/2026

It’s as simple as paying attention to the little moments in between.

Beginning the year with the art and practice of paying attention.

#2026

06/01/2026

If I have another breath, I can start again.

If we have another breath, WE can begin again.

Waking up is never more than a breath away. Through the simple, humbling practice of beginning again, I can return to this moment—to the power of this very breath—and realign with what matters most.

My teachers reminded me endlessly: we begin again by remembering the incredible gift of this moment. I noticed that if I can soften the self-criticism when I wander off the path, and gently return to my intention then I can recalibrate my moment-to-moment choices.
This is why I’m offering a 6:30am sadhana practice—a way to begin again at the start of the year, together.

Not to perfect ourselves, but to build an attainable home practice that creates strength and stability amidst the chaos of daily life.

What makes this work isn’t willpower alone—it’s community. Showing up live. Breathing together. Remembering, again and again, that we’re not doing this alone.

Does awakening stay? In my experience… no. And that’s why I remain devoted to the practice of beginning again. And again. And again.

Join me at .room the studio I’ve taught at for over 25 years as we begin—together.

BEGIN AGAIN: A yoga journey
Jan 17-23
6:30-8:30am
At Castroroom, SF + virtual

Over one week, we’ll recommit (or just commit) to a pre-dawn practice including meditation, pranayama, asana, bhakti, and dharma talks. We’ll look at our samskaras—our undigested experiences that create deep grooves, patterns, habits, addictions.

01/01/2026

And so it begins…again.

I commit to remembering the profound gift in each breath cycle, the human connection/compassion/creativity with my children, family, friends, community and humble share the wisdom my teachers shared with me. Oh, and sing a lot and dance too, oh, oh, oh and release my new book 📖
Where are you going to place your attention, intention - your precious life resource as we begin again?

#2026

15/12/2025

Let’s GO! I’m so excited to return to my friend’s retreat center, on Koh Samui this spring.

This little corner of the world has a way of softening the edges and opening new endeavors with its slow days filled with yoga, community, floating in the ocean, and recalibrating the nervous system. It will be a launching pad for me to roam Thailand again and explore new communities. 

I’ve always found it a place the clarifies and gives me space to exhale.

You’re invited to join me as I seek to replenish, regenerate, and remember my WHY more fully.

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