I came to yoga through the body, as many do-through movement, injury, and the quiet insistence that something needed to change. A lifetime of athletic pursuits led me to the mat for healing, but what I found there was something far more curious: a way of remembering that the body is not a problem to be solved, but a conversation to be listened to.

Yoga, for me, is not an achievement or a performance. It is an exploration of what happens when effort softens into attention-when breath, movement, and awareness realize they were never separate to begin with.

I've traveled and studied with teachers who emphasize strength, creativity, devotion, and play, learning that discipline and delight are not opposites, but partners. These influences shape my teaching: dynamic yet spacious, grounded yet light-hearted, inviting challenge without seriousness.

In retreats, I offer practices that range from strong, flowing movement to subtle, chakra-based exploration

-always returning to the simple truth that there is no "right" way to be here. Beginners and seasoned practitioners alike are welcomed into the same inquiry: what happens when you stop trying to improve yourself and simply notice what is already alive?

Beyond the studio, I've led large gatherings with live music, corporate and community practices, and outdoor rituals where yoga remembers its original context-not rooms and mirrors, but earth, breath, and relationship.

These retreats are not an escape from life. They are a gentle nudge back into it. An invitation to grow, to laugh, to wobble, to fall-and to discover that the ground has been holding you all along.