There’s something ancient about the snake. Its symbolism winds through so many traditions. And isn’t it fascinating that snakes shed their skin but remain fundamentally the same? They don’t transform like the butterflies on our sweet studio mural—no complete reinvention. Just a sloughing off. A return to self, newly revealed. A new version.

Like so much that matters, progressing in the direction of ahimsa starts with awareness. Awareness of the stories I tell myself about myself and others; awareness of how these stories fuel judgement and feelings of insecurity, resentment, guilt and the rest; and awareness that these stories, beliefs and feelings do not define me and that I have the capacity to outgrow them, to shed them like a snake sheds its old skin. 

Our relationship to self and Source is the foundational relationship, the one that shapes all the others. Self-compassion is necessary if we want to move through the world with any real kindness or love.

Having an abundance mindset is one of the great pathways to contentment. That sense of bountiful plenty leaves us open and energized. More importantly, it leads us toward generosity. If there’s enough, why not share?

I thought a lot about the hundreds of smaller accomplishments that are wrapped up inside the bow of a college degree. Classes attended, papers written, exams taken, projects completed. Planning the course of study. Making decisions. Moving in. Moving out. Earning money to pay for it. And on, and on, and on and on.

To graduate from college, you have to choose yourself—again and again. And again. More precisely, you choose your future self, in a thousand small and significant ways.

Yoga is a whole system, a multidimensional path that mirrors the layered complexity of being human. The word yoga itself means union, and it invites us to explore and welcome all aspects of ourselves, to realize a state of wholeness and harmony within.

People come to yoga from all kinds of different “rooms.” These rooms open into one great house that is Yoga. Once you’ve stepped into one room, consider wandering into a few others. Each one offers a different kind of medicine. Together, they deepen our practice and our understanding.

I’ve been in recovery for over 11 years, and more recently, yoga brought a new kind of practice into my life—one I’m still learning. I’m not someone who finds meditation easy. I’m still figuring out how to use my breath, both on and off the mat. What struck me most during my teacher training was how many of the principles of yoga mirror the values of the 12 steps. It felt familiar but also challenging—I knew it was another path that could help me keep growing. That’s part of why I feel so connected to Yoga of 12-Step Recovery (Y12SR)—it shows me how to use the tools I’ve gained over the years in new ways so that I can show up, even when it feels impossible. 

I take refuge in love.

This was a mantra I repeated to myself in the past few weeks, a period of spiking anxiety.

A mantra adopted aspirationally. As mantras sometimes are.

Because sometimes I do not. Take refuge in love, that is. Rather, when I feel the weight of the world or the voices of my fears amplify, I turn away from what I know to be true. I curl up into a little ball inside myself and forget that I am loved. That I am love. That there is nothing in this life that matters except that love.

This past weekend was really satisfying as Bill and I tended to our home, gardens, relationship, and family. The concept of "tending" lingered in my thoughts throughout, pondering what it means to nurture rather than build or simply maintain.

If your days are like mine—filled with movement, responsibilities, and constant stimulation— Yang, you might find yourself craving silence, Yin. At first, silence can feel uncomfortable. The mind resists, filling the space with thoughts of all the "productive" things you could be doing. But embracing silence helps you connect to your creativity and promotes efficiency.

Yoga philosophy is deeply rooted in taking mindful action towards our own liberation from suffering, and the suffering of all beings everywhere. Yoga is deeply rooted in service to the greater good. This is called Karma Yoga.

Seeds are a useful metaphor for understanding the relationship between our present actions and future outcomes - including the concept of 'karma' in Yoga philosophy. Every thought, word or deed is a seed – it sprouts a consequence for ourselves and often others. Some of those seeds eventually bear fruit, shaping our lives and those of us around us.

Well, friends, its March in Carolina.  And you know what that means.  No, I’m not talking about college basketball (at least not in this newsletter). Nope. There’s nothing like a bit of spring cleaning to clear out some of the junk blocking the flow.  Alas, no, we’re not going to solve Pittsboro’s water quality challenges with a little elbow grease.  But working together we can make our little corner of the world a little bit healthier and more beautiful. 

As we do most years, the Yoga Garden Community is participating in the Haw River Clean-Up- A-Thon to show some loving kindness to our local waterways.

Venerable had messages for me this morning that I needed to hear. As we sat in the sunny kitchen of Sangha House, their deep compassion and wise guidance landed in my heart. We talked of the work of clearing karma from oppressive and oppressed ancestors and ending cycles of suffering for our families. They explained why it was so important to approach activism and social justice from love rather than anger.

Last night was Songs of Devotion with heart2heart, one of my very favorite studio events. As we sang songs of hope and longing and spirit together in community, I felt deeply connected and full of love. Within the sheltering walls of our little cottage, you are invited to loosen your grip on the external world for just a little while. Like so many places, families, and communities that quietly nourish the human soul, we will continue to hold space for kindness and safety.

Our yoga asana (physical) practice is an ongoing conversation we have with our bodies. Your instructor might be able to spot something that looks potentially harmful, and they might not. We are in conversation with our bodies the entire time we are on the mat. As with most conversations, the listening part is the most important. No two days are exactly the same in these extraordinary vessels of ours.   

When I act as though I am interconnected, I can start to feel it. I remember that I don’t exist in isolation, that I am held in an intricate web of relationships—with people, with the natural world, with something greater than ourselves. And when I feel that, I move through life differently. With more care. With more gratitude. With a sense of belonging and an increased sense of responsibility.

When I fully recognize my place in the web, I recognize the ways my presence, my choices, and my energy ripples outward.

There’s a famous Rumi quote that goes: “yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”

But in truth we desperately need both.

I try to attend to the many details of this human life with as much skill and grace as I can muster - while not losing sight of the big picture. The truly important stuff. There’s a saying Bill and I often repeat to each other: “the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.” (Stephen Covey).

As the chill of winter begins to wane and the first signs of spring emerge, the Celtic festival of Imbolc offers a time for renewal, reflection, and hope. Observed traditionally on February 1st or 2nd, Imbolc marks the midway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, a celebration of the stirring of life beneath the surface of the earth.