Heart's Garden

01/18/2026

It is said that yoga is the journey of the self, through the self, to the self... among this journey we are guided by an 8 limbed path - the first of its branches being the yamas.
The first of the yamas, or ethical restraints, is ahimsa.

can be translated as non-harm or non-violence. Within this seemingly simple principle lies the very foundation of our yoga practice.

But what does non-violence really mean?

We often look to the obvious and relate all violence to that of a physical nature, but this concept extends beyond the obvious.

The principle of ahimsa includes avoiding harm in thoughts, words, and actions to ALL living beings.
This includes harm to ourselves as well as those around us.
Practicing ahimsa looks like compassion for self and others.

It looks like awareness and gentle redirection of thought.

It looks like mindful speech - recognizing the power and impact of our words, and it looks like actions with intention.

When we take actions, even the smallest ones, with the intent of kindness and support for all living beings on this planet - to include this living, breathing planet - we embody ahimsa.

Today, more than ever, we need to center ourselves in this principle of non-harming and compassion for all.....

There is a sanskrit mantra that floats around yoga spaces from time to time, perhaps you've heard it... it goes:

"Lokah, Samastah, Sukhino, Bhavantu."

It means:
"MAY ALL BEINGS EVERYWHERE BE HAPPY AND FREE, AND MAY MY OWN LIFE CONTRIBUTE TO THAT HAPPINESS AND FREEDOM FOR ALL."

It is an expression of universal love, compassion, and interconnectedness. It is a prayer for global well-being, wishing peace, joy, and freedom from suffering for everyone.

Today, I invite you to hold this mantra and the practice of ahimsa within the depths of your heart.

Let it be your intention and guidance within your time on your mat, but more importantly, let it remain your intention and guidance in all that you do, wherever you go.
❤️🙏❤️

01/17/2026

01/13/2026

Never underestimate the impression left behind when you spread your wings and fly.

🪽❤️🦉🪶✨️❤️🪽

01/12/2026

Just how many times can the human heart be broken, they ask...
And to this inquiry I say -
"It is limitless, my dear ones... limitless and without bounds."

The human heart will break a thousand times and still not be immune from yet another breaking.

Though this human hub is deeply tender, we must not mistake it's tenderness for fragility nor weakness.
Though it is not the strongest muscle by all metrics of force production, the heart remains anatomically unmatched in endurance.

Endurance, yes...

And does that not demonstrate powerfully our capacity for love?
For it is not by way of contract that we embrace love assured of never hurting, but by way of faith in our resilience when pain was written in the fine print all along.

If a muscle must endure tension, strain, or tearing to be grown, should this not too, apply to the heart?
It surly does, my dear ones.
It surly does - should you embody the greif and the wailing that heartache requires.

Within the confines of heartache and grief we find expansion and farther reaching depths than we thought we'd ever know... than we thought we'd ever see or touch.

It is only when we meet ourselves here, when we meet eachother here, that we then begin to grow.
The deaths we've endured plant seeds in the soil of our hearts, and the tears streaming slowly tend the garden.

Should you shine light on the heartache and water its soil, you'll be astounded each time at the new life to come ... as if it hadn't happened 1000 times past... as if you hadn't already possessed a miracle inside of your chest.

My dear ones, don't you once dare to stop falling in love.
Don't you dare run from the pain.
It's a coin in your hand, 2 sided my friends, the heart enduring them both without skipping a beat.

Let your heart break now in these times. Embody the wails of this collective grief...
We must first all be shattered to bits and to pieces to then come together in unity and love once again.

🌱🙏💔🙏🌱

01/06/2026

❤️🙏❤️

01/02/2026

The first day of the year arrives like a quiet pause in the turning of time—a moment suspended between what has ended and what has not yet begun. The hours feel stretched and unmeasured; the world holds its breath, and even the smallest movement seems to echo.

Shadows of the old year linger in frost and still air, while the new year waits—unseen but present—just beyond the horizon. Some call this the Day Between Breaths: a gentle in-between where possibility pulses slowly, tender and alive.

On this day, the world itself seems to listen. Rivers move more quietly, trees hold their frozen branches in stillness, and even the wind softens to a low murmur. If you wander through the woods at dawn, you might notice faint impressions in the frost—paths never taken, chances not yet arrived—and tiny glimmers of light hovering just above the ground.

The first day of the year is not a starting line. It is a pause—a soft exhale between what has been and what is quietly forming. In these earliest hours, the veil between what is and what could be feels thinnest. You may glimpse the shimmer of an unwalked path, hear the faint voice of intention, or feel time slow until it matches your own breath.

Here, there is no urgency. No resolving. Only noticing. Let your thoughts drift like snow settling on bare branches, like light resting on a frost-lined windowpane. Allow your heart to remember its own rhythm. The air itself feels alive, carrying subtle guidance, gentle encouragement, and the hush of hidden magic.

Step slowly, or remain still. Breathe with the day. Listen for what stirs within. The first day is not about doing—it is about being. And in being here, you honor the unseen, the tender, and the quietly waiting possibilities of the year to come.

12/31/2025

🕯🐻 ❄️ DECEMBER 31ST ❄️🐻🕯

It is a new calendar year tomorrow --- but the Mother 🌎, she still sleeps.

While the natural world remains in her slumber, many of us fall into the hustle and bustle of what January 1st so often brings...
🏃‍♂️Resolutions, goals, perpetual motion of body and mind...
Attention is often directed toward what's trending, wanted or needed in the year to come...

When we look to mother nature, she reminds us that we are still within a dormant season.
The seeds spread on last autumn's breeze remain in darkness beneath the soil.
They nestle down, awaiting the warmth of spring's light to let them know it's time to move and grow. 🌱

We too are a part of this wild and natural world.
We too are meant to remain in this season of rest, of darkness, of turning inward.

📅 It wasn't until 1582 that the Gregorian calendar was introduced, disrupting the natural rhythms of 13 months, 13 moons, and a new year that began in the spring.
... So if you're lacking motivation, craving stillness, or longing for rest 😴 - know that you're not falling behind.

You're not broken or lazy.

Your body is following an ancient and sacred rhythm, and it's begging for your mind and spirit to do the same.

It is okay to slow down. 🐌
It is okay to rest. 🛌

We will awaken with the world as the snow melts and the warmth returns.
Until then, be gentle. 🙏❤️🙏

12/09/2025

As the light wanes and the nights grow long, the Cailleach awakens. She is the ancient winter hag of the Highlands, the old woman of storms and stone, the keeper of frost and the quiet turning of the year. In Scottish tradition, her presence is not abstract—she is woven into the very landscape. With her staff she shapes mountains, summons blizzards, and freezes rivers into stillness. Her arrival is felt in the first hard frost, the bare trees, the wind that seems to carry an older voice through empty fields.

The Cailleach embodies endurance, sovereignty, and the sacredness of endings. She is the crone who knows that decay feeds new life, that the death of the year’s light is not a loss but a necessary pause. Folklore describes her as veiled and formidable, her hair white as spindrift, her eyes keen as ice. Sometimes she strides through the storm; other times she moves silently through frost-blackened forests, leaving the world transformed in her wake. To encounter her is to understand winter’s truth: stillness is not emptiness, but a deep, generative quiet.

Her stories are older than memory. In some traditions she rules the dark half of the year, handing over her power to Brigid at Imbolc when the first signs of thaw appear. In others, she renews her age each Samhain, drinking from the Well of Youth before stepping into her season of sovereignty. She counts the snows as markers of her rule, and with the planting of her staff she can freeze a loch, bring down a storm, or hush the land beneath a mantle of white. Her magic is elemental—patient, deliberate, and absolute.

The Cailleach is not a figure of fear but a presence to honor. She teaches that winter’s austerity has purpose, that the world—and our inner lives—require this quieting. As she moves across mountains and moors, her touch brings clarity: the stripping away of what cannot endure, the sharpening of what must. Under her watch, the land rests, seeds sleep, and the bones of the world show through. Her lessons are carved in frost—surrender, resilience, and the strength found in stillness.

Imagine her moving through the hills around you: heavy-footed across stone, brushing branches with a cold hand, drawing the hush deeper. Notice what is settling in your own life—what is falling away, what is being cleared, what lies dormant beneath the surface. Let her presence remind you that winter is not absence but preparation, and that the quiet season is holy in its own way.

In her wake, endings are honored. In her silence, wisdom roots. In her frost, the hidden world prepares to bloom again.

12/03/2025

A morning reminder to slow down and breathe in the miracle of existence.
❤️🙏❤️

09/22/2025

Do you feel it?

The gentle unraveling and drifting away of seasons past?

It's with every inhale that we invite the new, and within the exhale that we release...

But are we breathing fully?

Are we bringing that new life into the belly to be nourished and churned?

Are we exhaling to its very bottom to release the weight that's kept us anchored in the past?

There's no right or wrong...
Just notice.
Then commit to breathing deeper.

Change can be fearful, yes, but it is also one of life's few certainties.

Today, and every day, step outside and breathe deeply.

You are not alone in this season of change.
🍁🍃🙏❤️🙏🍃🍁