We begin in the east. With the life-fuel of breath. With the voice of our sacred song. Inspiration. The untamable spirit. The air.

We begin with not knowing, with surrendering to the unseen and unpredictable. We begin with our ability to imagine possibility from nothing. We begin with the warrior, the eastern sun, the initiation of the Aries flame.

We begin with inspired action, independence, and the confidence of having an idea born from divinity. We begin when we incarnate into a blueprint of sacred fire. When we listen to the inner voice and trust in the process of personal awakening and evolution.

We begin when the music of Spirit is too beautiful to ignore, when the wonder of nature offers her infinite prosperity, when we trust in the embodiment of fire into self. Of life-force into activation.

We begin when the burning of bliss becomes an invitation to fly. When we realize we have wings. When we are not afraid to jump. We begin the moment we realize that we can never fail at being ourselves, but we have to face the fear of being known.

We begin when we become leaders of our own story, our own ideas, our own process, our own outcome. We begin where we are. We begin with love. We begin.

There is an aliveness, a rhythm to life — to earth — that can’t be described, only felt. It weaves through infinite threads and sacred tremors; a web of creation.

The movement of spirit can’t be explained.
The passage of collective evolution doesn’t need a name.
The life force cannot be contained.

The wild is an animate infusion of alchemy and elemental music. It is a force that exists far outside of my personal experience, far outside the realms that my primitive brain can even begin to comprehend.

We may call this force Spirit. Shakti. Shamanism. Love. Energy. Awen. How does one describe the breath of all life? How does one label the sacred? How does one designate or define the awakening of devotion?

The agitation I feel trying to “human” in a mechanical world is the boundless call of this experience we call life. It is a reminder of the
Infinite.
Holy.
Magical.
Transformative.
Grace.

There are no limitations in limitlessness. No definitions of vastness. No normalcy in creative expression. No linear path or process to healing.

I am this body. A mere fragment of the animate world — and yet, I exist in a realm where all possibilities and potentialities exist.

I am this body. And I am also clay molded from a collective experience.

I am this body. And I am the river, the trees, the sky, the one who is perceiving and capturing the moment.

I am this body. And I am all that is.

There’s a shift in the air.

This is probably the most mentally restless time of the year. The end of winter stirs up everything we kept hidden in hibernation. It awakens new possibilities. Rekindles old feelings. Asks new questions. We may find ourselves unable to settle for the day, to choose something, to find a direction. Old ways of thinking create agitation, tell us that we’re being careless, distracted, irresponsible. (How easy it is to forget that we can let the old ways go.) Are we really meant to hang on to the same way of doing things for all eternity? How does that work in a reality guided by time, seasons, and cycles? It doesn’t.

We are cyclical beings. We grow, we change, we evolve, we shed old skins and step into new seasons. Time gives us the magic of possibility. We arise anew every day.

Agitation is just an energy that can’t find a direction. Restlessness is just an energy that seeks to create. Distraction wants to try something new. Can we channel the wisdom of this season into an ever-flowing and shifting stream? Can we harness our own cyclical nature and remember that everything has its season? This upcoming season of Pisces is a reminder that water never holds its form. It’s mutable. It may be a still lake or a raging waterfall. It’s melting ice and dense fog. It pours like heavy rain or floats like weightless snow. The river is never really still. It’s always seeking the larger ocean.

A human being, a creator, doesn’t have one mode, one system of doing things. Everyday your body changes and your mind adapts. Let the energy of the season flow through you and guide you to something new and inspired. Not every idea will work out. Not every interest will last forever. But maybe it’s all part of the spiralic, cyclical path that is leading you to where you want to be. For now. Because everything is always changing.

Often times, people attend a yoga class or meditation thinking they need to immediately shift their energy to a calm state, or they may feel the pressure to look, act, or be a certain way. Whether that’s doing exactly what the teacher is instructing, or bottling up their restlessness, or forcing themselves to feel what they’re simply not feeling. The truth is, yoga is simply asking you to show up exactly as you are. And my role as an instructor is to help you and guide you to connect with yourself. Even if you decide to come to class and lie down the entire time, you’re still choosing a self-healing moment. You’re still connecting to your intentions and giving yourself the space for self-inquiry. My yoga sequences will support you in creating a specific energy, but you can also receive that from the frequency of my voice (it’s one of my gifts). The most important thing is to listen to your own internal guidance. It’s a workout for your soul.

In ancient times, yoga was a practice that was shared from teacher to student in a way that elevated the teacher as a guru and created a very specific framework for self-awakening. There were rules, structure, and linear pathways to realization that, perhaps, were appropriate for that time. But we are far removed from those times. We are now in an age of the inner guru, a time when all of the teachings are available for anyone to access. A time when we don’t have to leave our home to achieve spiritual connection or receive wisdom from our favorite teachers. We’ve evolved beyond the simple structure of doing a posture to feel a certain way. Now, in the Aquarian age, we have unlimited resources to awaken our own inner pathways.

So don’t worry about coming to a yoga class to perform or achieve or force what isn’t there. Come to a yoga class to connect with the inner voice, the inner teacher that guided you there. You may get the added bonus of feeling wonderful in your body, but that happens naturally. Come to a class with the simple intention of releasing expectations and receiving what you’re mean to receive. That amazing feeling you get from the practice? It feels a lot like love.

And so we begin the shortest day in the North, in the realm of scented pine and weathered ash. We arise as the sun rises in the northeast, a dim day with a new beginning. And while the candle flames dance for the longest night and the hearth warms our cold winter bones, we tell tales of Fate and Destiny…

We celebrate and embrace in winter’s womb for the sun god’s rebirth and a new year of possibility.

We rekindle words left unsaid and the laughter that we sheltered under smooth lines and the guise of responsibility.

Perhaps we pray to Desire herself to align with Destiny’s path — allowing her to paint vibrant colors on our many disciplines and devotions.

Perhaps we let Fate whisper secrets into the dreamtime.

Perhaps our memories and magic inspire Time to soften his hard edges, so that every resolution and karmic unfolding become a story written from the heart.

But, perhaps, just for now, we stand beneath the sun god’s low winter light and simply affirm, in this season and the next, I will love you.

We have entered the depths of Scorpio season in the northern hemisphere, where the transformation between summer and winter quickly unfolds. The cool winds from the West now have a sharper edge that gets into the bones. Shifting temperatures bring thick fogs and gray clouds. Our bodies adjust accordingly with the shorter days, and, for many, the decreasing energy and productivity can create the fear that we're not doing enough. But when I listen to the indigo twilight evening, I am reminded that nature is always enough. There is a deeper wisdom in the spacious night and in the quiet contemplations of our soul's journey. And sometimes our dharma is to rest. Sometimes the pause is a call for healing. Sometimes we just need to give ourselves space for the transformational process to unfold.

The truth is, we all change. We all grieve. We all have insecurities and fears. We all have moments of shame and guilt. We all make mistakes. We have all experienced illness or dis-ease. We all have karmas. We all have "shadows" that we keep hidden, because we think we are alone. But we are never alone. We live on a planet of 8 billion people -- all navigating the human journey.

When I contemplate the human experience, I realize that none of us will ever truly achieve perfection. And it's too stressful to try. What we CAN aim for is beautiful imperfection. We can celebrate every awkward conversation, every mistake, and every unmet expectation as a hug from the divine creator expressing through us. And we can do our best to wish happiness and peace for every being -- human, animal, plant, dust -- also expressing through their beautiful imperfection. For me personally, when I can do that, it's very difficult to feel alone. It feels like we are all one.

And here we stand at the threshold between worlds, in the liminal space between day and night. Here we watch as the sun rises into a new season, as the cold Libra winds from the east bring shifting temperatures amidst darker days. And to the east, we say thank you.

It is here, in this moment at the doorway that we fortify our lasting strength. Here we receive the life force of the south, in crackling fires and the warm fruits of our abundant summer harvest. And to the south, we say thank you.

It is here in the realm of autumn, in the mist-filled golden hours of both dream and dreamer where creations unfold. Here we experience the beauty of transitions in the vibrant colors of the west, her radiant sunsets on every fallen leaf and moss-covered stream. And to the west, we say thank you.

It is here on our changing earth, in the hibernating forests, in the magnificent ecology of the Gaia-force where we land and receive. Here we enter the nighttime realm of our ancestors of the north, where the veil becomes more permeable and the trees whisper secrets of the old ones who never left. And to the north, we say thank you.

Thank you.
And so it is.

Life is always a work in progress. There’s never a moment when we finish growing, when we stop regenerating. Judith Lasater writes about the carving of stone into art, where the sculptor removes everything that isn’t the statue. “Our work is to chisel away everything that is not essence, not Self.” If you are alive, then you are still sculpting.

Sometimes we face obstacles, redirects, feelings of inadequacy, fear, mistakes (hello Mercury retrograde); these are all a part of the life that is constantly unfolding to reveal our true essence. To say that my life is a work in progress isn’t to say that I am flawed, incomplete or imperfect. To say that my life is a work in progress is to say that I am available to the gifts of progress — that I am always evolving and transforming to align with the essence, the outcome, the vibration that is my true nature.

Tada drashtuh sva-rupe’vasthanam — “Then the seer abides in its essence.” (Sutra 1:3) Love yourself in a way that keeps your heart open to change, regeneration, and growth. We are all a work in progress. We are all finding our way home.

Every spring, nature brings us winds of change.

The air: releasing old, dead branches and leaves, shedding the barriers to new growth. The air: distributing seeds, transporting clouds and rains to nurture and water the soil. The air: carrying shifting temperatures, cool awakening chill and warmer gusts of comfort. The air: traditionally associated with the heart chakra, moving from the dense to the subtle, from earthly desire to the unpredictable force of love. The air: unseen, untamable, unable to be controlled or grasped.

We are simply invited to trust in the unknowable embrace of what could be.

The days leading up to Calan Mai (May first) or Beltane are full of change, unpredictable temperatures, stormy skies, new growth, and sudden energetic shifts. When we move closer to the liminal space, the barriers to the authentic self are tested and often stripped away. When the worlds collide — subtle/dense, light/shadow, conscious/unconscious, spirit/matter — there is new life created: the emergence of the true self. Born from the sacred union of polarity. The wild self. The embodied self. The creator self. The divine self.

A Beltane new moon/solar eclipse in Taurus has the potential to awaken and accelerate what we most value, at the core of who we are. The earthly plane will shake to help us remember. What’s stripped away is simply unveiling the truth.

What happens when we move with the wind, instead of resisting it?

Time is our most valuable possession. It can’t be earned, achieved, or claimed. It just is. We choose in every moment how to use this finite resource. And how we spend our time is a strong indicator of what we prioritize and value.

Astrology is and can be a measurement of time, the cycle of the Cosmos, and the blueprint of this finite experience. It’s a beautiful map that I love to study and translate — like a language or a piece of music. But it’s not meant to be absolute. It’s not meant to take you out of the present moment, or to micromanage time, predictions, and outcomes. I have witnessed this tendency in myself to want to control time through astrology, to “crack the code” of the future and the events of my life and the collective. While astrological predictions can be very accurate, they don’t change anything except to take us out of the present moment. Astrology is meant to empower you; it’s not meant to have power over you.

So I asked myself some time ago: am I experiencing my life? Or am I trying to control it?

Every day can be an important day, a portal of opportunity, a chance for growth and transformation. Most people have no idea what the planets are doing and are perfectly fine. But if we give all of our energy to something, like a “Pluto return” (which you won’t personally experience unless you live to be over 250 years) or astrology apps that are designed to hook you, then we can create a reality, an energy, or a “portal” that may not have existed before.

Again: These tools are meant to empower, not to create fear, stress, or addiction.

I love astrology. I love connecting people with their charts. I love to watch the movement of stars and planets. I had so much fun last year watching Jupiter and Saturn come together, and then geeking out on the night sky on 8/8 when the earth had an actual portal directly in between these two planets. I love to witness and feel the cycles and placements of the moon, because it’s a part of the earth and we feel it on a very physical level. But I don’t feel the need to know what my chart is doing every day, or if some abstract moment in time is experiencing a major transit. And I don’t see any value in stressing about the transformational aspects everyone experiences as they approach a certain age. (Honestly I barely even care about or remember my own age.) My only concern — in this moment in time — is the reality and energy of THIS moment.

When Saturn (the ruler of time and astrology) speaks to me now, he tells me that we can spend our entire lives trying to control time, only to realize that we wasted it. To master any energy, we cease to let it have power over us.

We can micromanage life, or we can simply enjoy it.

I am the daughter of sun and fire. Born on the longest day of the year in the North where the sun never set. It’s difficult for me to rise before the sun. It’s nearly impossible to be productive after it fades to dark. Even my golden hair becomes murky auburn in the darker months and my eyes fade to a seafoam gray. There’s a mute coldness in my belly and inspiration comes in quiet waves. Winter is hard.

And yet, the roots of my pagan ancestors stir me to enchantment even in the coldest months. From the ancient Norse year to the Celtic sabbats to the shores of Avalon and the great wheel of the Cosmos. The medicine found in nature can still take my breath away — in crusty melting snow, dried branches, and colorless skies. Because I know there’s a time for fire and a time for dreams. A time for action and a time for rest. Winter’s last breath is the stirring within the cocoon that makes me shiver with anticipation. I can only imagine the beauty of the emergence when it comes.

And now, in Pisces season, the last month of winter, we see the melting ice flow to streams and waterfalls, rainbows in the freezing dew, pockets of rain and snow in all moods and temperatures. Hope, despair, grief, and joy ebb and flow like the changing waters and impatient clouds. I become sleepy, because Dreamtime beckons and my body aches to prepare. The fire grows brighter — from a flickering candle flame to a steady warmth. Flowing water, cool air, and softening earth give me permission to heal. To watch and wait.

Here, now — slowly awakening in the cocoon to breathe the last of winter’s breaths.