YogaLamb

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

Lately I’ve been feeling that deeply.

There are moments in life when what once nourished us begins to ask something different of us. Not because it was wrong, but because we have grown.

For years, retreats, teaching, healing, and community have been some of the richest parts of my life. They have shaped me, held me, and helped me become who I am.

And now I find myself at another threshold.

In yoga philosophy, Śrī is the principle of abundance: the trust that there is enough. Enough love. Enough possibility. Enough support for what is ending and for what is beginning.

Fear tells us to hold tightly to what we know. Śrī reminds us that letting go can also be an act of trust.

I’m learning that I am not leaving my past behind. I am building on it. Every chapter, every retreat, every student, every version of myself has brought me here.

The next chapter is asking for more room: for writing, creativity, healing, and new ways of sharing what I love.

The leap feels tender. And real.

But I am trusting that there is enough path beneath me—or that I will learn to fly.

If you’d like to read the fuller reflection, I shared it on Substack. Link in bio. ✨

Spring has a way of asking us to begin again… but not without first letting something go.

In yoga philosophy, we talk about the pranavayus—the directions that energy moves through the body.
Apana Vayu is the downward-moving current. Rooted below the navel, it governs elimination, release, and grounding.

It’s the exhale.

The part of the breath that softens, empties, and clears space.

This time of year, I find myself drawn less to striving and more to shedding—
old patterns, stagnant energy, the things that quietly weigh us down.

Apana reminds us that growth doesn’t just come from taking in more…
but from letting go of what we no longer need.

There’s something deeply honest about that.

To trust the downward movement.
To root.
To release.

And to know that in the quiet after the exhale… something new is already beginning.

Take a moment today to slow your breath.
Let the exhale be a little longer.
Feel what you’re ready to put down.

Spring will meet you there.

My grandmother passed away this past Monday: Rita M. Sacchetti (Mamma Ree to me).

It was quiet and peaceful. She was with my parents. In those ways, it was an incredible blessing. She had been letting go for some time, which, as anyone who's lost a loved one knows, doesn't make this easier-though it perhaps highlights a sliver of grace.

She was a gift to me. A bonus grandmother, through my bonus stepmother, who came into my life one random afternoon twenty-some years ago.

We met at a birthday luncheon. I tend to stick to the sidelines in large groups, blending into the wallpaper, not one for small talk. But that day, Mamma Ree and shared a long conversation-and our first great laugh. That was it. The moment she snuck into my heart and never left....and the cause of that laughter is, to this day, a secret she and I kept between us.

I was obsessed with her. I loved her strength, her wit, her very Italian way of engaging with family and never holding back. I'd call her just to listen-to stories of her life, from picking dandelion greens in the graveyard for dinner, to what she had going on that afternoon.

..and inevitably, she'd say, "I've bent your ear long enough, I'm gonna let you go, but then continue for another 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes of pure smiles on my end, because she'd always sneak in one more story.

I never could have known, back in that restaurant, that I was meeting a love of my life. That she would choose to love and support me, and I her. Learning her recipes during lockdown became the best part of my weeks. She created a space in my heart. She was my favorite. My bonus grandmother.

There's an ancient Shivistic teaching called "the splendor of recognition." In short, it's the belief that god, in their wisdom, created the universe, & placed a tiny piece of themself in each human... and forgot.

We live, choosing & living, forgetting & bumping into others-and sometimes we remember. See in someone else a spark of the divine... & remember that we, too, have that spark.

Mamma Ree was always that spark for me, & a love I will feel forever.

May we all continue to live our best & fullest lives, and, every now and again, see the spark

Sadhana, Safe Spaces, and Staying Connected

Last week my therapist asked me a simple question:
What drew you to yoga?

The answer surprised me in its clarity.

Because it was a safe space.

As a q***r kid growing up in the 90s, I learned early on that not every room was safe for my full self. I learned how to read people. How to assess risk. How to protect parts of who I was.

So when I found spaces where I didn’t have to perform or edit myself… I stayed.

My yoga classrooms felt like that.
Shelter.
Softness.
Room to breathe.

Without anyone saying a word about it, I could feel it:
I didn’t need to be anything other than myself.

Looking back, it makes perfect sense that I fell in love with this practice.

In yoga, we talk about sadhana — the practice we return to again and again because it matters.

For me, sadhana has become this:

Creating spaces where people feel safe.
Held.
Free to be fully themselves.

Especially now.

Especially in this loud, tender, bananas-foster world.

Your sadhana matters.
It doesn’t have to be grand.
It just has to be sincere.

Be kind to yourself.
Your gifts — even the quiet ones — change more than you know.

We are in this together.
In love.
In community.
In practice.

🤍

Vairāgya (वैराग्य) — a cornerstone of yoga — teaches that true freedom comes not from control, but from release.
It’s the balance to abhyāsa, steady practice: doing the work, and then letting go of the outcome.

This isn’t withdrawal or indifference. It’s a conscious softening — a trust that by releasing what’s complete, we create room for what’s meant to emerge.

Notice this week:
🌿 Where can you let something rest?
🌿 Where can you simplify?
🌿 Where can you act without attachment to the result?

That’s vairāgya in action. 💛

We often crave the bloom. The heat. The forward motion.
But spring, too, begins in stillness.

This practice of pratiprasava—a return to source—is a reminder that not all movement is visible, and not all growth is upward. Sometimes we root deeper. Sometimes we pause, reflect, retreat, and only then… reemerge.

You are not behind.
You are regenerating.

Only TWO spots left for my Portugal retreat this July! If you’ve been dreaming of a week of yoga, deep rest, and connection in a stunning setting—now is the time. Join us before it’s full! Link in bio to claim your spot. ✨

Happy Spring Friends! 🌱
Throwback to riding camels in the Sahara during my 2015 Morocco retreat—an unforgettable journey through golden dunes, endless skies, and deep connection. ✨ This July, I’m leading another incredible retreat, this time in Portugal, where we’ll trade desert sands for the lush landscapes of the Atlantic coastline. Think yoga, breathtaking views, soulful connection, and the magic of taking time for yourself. Will you join me?
F I V E spots remaining! Book with your buds!
🔗 in bio to learn more
🌿 🇵🇹

Feeling stretched too thin? I’ve been noticing how many of us are being pulled in countless directions—political, environmental, economic, personal, collective. These are real, important things. But when we’re constantly absorbing and reacting, it’s easy to lose our own center.

In yoga, there’s a concept called Pratyāhāra, often translated as “withdrawal of the senses.” But it’s not about disconnecting from the world—it’s about consciously turning inward to clear the clutter and return to what actually matters.

This is not avoidance. It’s preservation. It’s allowing yourself the space to see clearly again, so you can move forward with purpose instead of just reacting to everything around you.

So today, I offer you this:
Find a moment—just one—to turn inward. Soften the noise. Breathe. Feel yourself here. Clarity will follow.

Save this post as a reminder, share it with someone who might need it, and let me know in the comments—how do you create space for stillness in your life?