Insurance might be one of the most boring words in the English language. Paperwork, policies, fine print. My son works in insurance and even though he has told me a million times what he does, I am not exactly sure I could explain it to you.

I just returned from Panama and spent every morning watching this man (I am so mad I don't know his name) clean the pool. So slow and methodical. Same task, same tools, same rhythm. He moved slowly and steadily, with complete care, never rushed, never distracted.

The other day I ended up riding in the back seat of my own car, something I guess I hadn't done before.  I noticed things I’d somehow missed all this time; cup holders, an armrest, a whole little setup I didn’t even know existed. My older brother laughed and said, “It’s kind of fun to ride in your own back seat every once in a while.”

I’ve been thinking about what feels hard in yoga and in life. It’s funny how that changes over time. What once felt impossible might now feel accessible, and what used to be effortless can suddenly feel out of reach. Life has a way of humbling us like that. Hard isn’t always physical. Sometimes it’s emotional, like setting a boundary, or spiritual, like staying steady in uncertainty or finding grace when things don’t go as planned.

Music has a way of moving us in ways we can’t always explain. Shifting our mood, opening our hearts, and carrying us through each breath. Music can shapes how we feel in any moment. The right song can lift a yoga class into something unforgettable, while the wrong playlist, volume too high, or energy that doesn’t match the room can take away from the experience. It’s the same at a dinner party on a road trip...music sets the tone, invites connection, and creates memories (just ask my kids). Curating music isn’t just background noise, it’s a way of creating atmosphere, emotion, and flow in everything we do.

Let’s talk about what we’re all wearing under our yoga pants, or not wearing. Sorry guys, this might not be the content you were looking for today, or maybe it is!

About a year ago, I stood up to teach class and was suddenly consumed with annoyance my underwear. I just blurted it out: “Does anyone have underwear they actually love under yoga pants?” The responses were immediate, passionate, and came from all directions. Even the lone man in class had a recommendation (for his wife, to be fair).   

There is a quiet ritual in setting the table that mirrors the intention behind a yoga practice. From the soft unfolding of a napkin to the careful placement of a dish, we create a space that says: You are welcome. You matter. Preparing and sharing a meal is one of our oldest ways of exchanging energy. You could view it as an offering, a gesture of care, and a moment of connection. Just as we nourish ourselves physically with food, we nourish our relationships through the time and presence we offer one another at the table.

Walking through the neighborhood today on the way home from Lighthouse Yoga, I picked up a book of poetry from one of those sweet little free libraries that sit in front yards. I’m always on the lookout for words that move me, something I can bring into class or tuck into my pocket as inspiration. As I walked,

Yoga and dreaming both invite us to expand beyond the limits we place on ourselves. Dreams allow us to explore without boundaries, while yoga encourages us to release restrictions in both body and mind. Through movement, breath, and stillness, we create space for new possibilities to emerge.

Life is built in layers—stories, flavors, ideas, even the way we experience the world around us. A great story is never just a single thread; it is woven together with emotions, perspectives, and time. The same event can be told in different ways depending on who is telling it, what details they choose to highlight, and how their own experiences shape the narrative. Much like history itself, stories unfold in layers, revealing new meanings the deeper we go.

Life often feels like a whirlwind of successes and setbacks, but sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is pause and savor the beauty of one good moment. Small, fleeting experiences have the power to center us, reminding us that joy doesn't always come in big, dramatic waves.

This little sign hangs at a tiny bar in Mexico right on the beach. The owner could not wait to serve the hubs and I a cold beer and homemade chips and salsa. It was over 5 years ago, but I remember this afternoon perfectly.