Bird by Bird

Have you read Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott?

I just started reading this gem and I’m already hooked.

Anne is writing about the creative process and offering advice to writers, but so much of what she shares feels applicable to any creative endeavor—and really, to life.

Two things have stayed with me so far.

The first is this idea of starting by telling the truth.

I mean… yes please.

The truth of how we’re doing. The truth of our lives. The messy parts and, yes, the good parts too. The things we’re embarrassed about, the things we’re working on, and the things we’ve accomplished.

I think we should tell the true story of our lives.

Not in a woe is me way or a pompous way, but in a human way.

Proud, yes. Humble, yes. And real.

Let’s start there. By telling the truth.

The other idea comes from the story behind the title Bird by Bird.

Anne tells the story of her brother, who had three months to write a school report about birds and, in true human fashion, waited unti...

We all settle into our daily habits and rituals. Life is full, there is only so much time, and we naturally gravitate toward what is familiar.

And this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Habits are useful. They conserve energy. We NEED things we don't have to think about all the time.

The caveat is when our daily habits start to wear on us.

Sitting is an easy example. We sit for work, in the car, at meals, on the couch, and then wonder why we feel stiff or uncomfortable. Often, we don't change anything until the body starts asking for our attention.

And sometimes that message is pain.

Especially the pain that seems to come "out of nowhere."

I was fine, and then…

Of course, pain is complex and can have many causes, but it can also be an invitation to pay attention. What has been happening in your body? What has become repetitive? What might need more movement, more rest, more variety, or simply something different?

The thing is, we don't have to wait until we are in pain to make a c...

  Today after class, a few students and I found ourselves reflecting on the passing of time and how quickly it all seems to go.

The good times, the difficult times, the ordinary days in between—they all pass. And lately, I’ve been feeling especially aware of it.

I find myself in a bit of an in-between place. Somewhere between the life I’ve lived with my daughter for the past 19 years and whatever comes next.

I’ve been reminiscing a lot. Looking backward, wondering about the future, and sometimes realizing that my attention is everywhere except where I actually am.

Except when I’m teaching.

Or moving my body.

Or taking the time to really breathe.

In those moments, something shifts. I am here. And somehow, I’m able to slow time down just long enough to taste it.

I’ve also had this strange and beautiful awareness lately that this moment—the one I’m living right now—will someday be something I feel nostalgic for too.

For so many years, raising my daughter gave my days a rhythm and...

“Find out who you are and do it on purpose.”
— Dolly Parton

I think I’m still figuring out who I am. Although when I look back at the life I’ve lived thus far, I definitely have done a lot of it my way—and a lot of it on purpose.

I am, and have always been, a big fan of Dolly Parton, so I was pretty shook up to hear that she had passed. And to be honest, my reaction surprised me.

I spent more than two hours scrolling, listening to her songs, watching people sing her songs, and bawling my eyes out. And somewhere in there I realized—it was exactly what I needed. A really good cry.

The renditions of I Will Always Love You, Light of a Clear Blue Morning, and Shine got me good.

My daughter fell in love with Jolene when she was seven years old, and we have been singing it at the tops of our lungs ever since.

What does Dolly’s passing have to do with movement and embodiment, you may ask?

Well, death has a way of reminding us of the preciousness of life.

And life is lived through your ...

 What Is Strength, After All?

I've been thinking a lot about this lately.

Strength isn't just about muscles.

There is strength of heart.
Emotional strength.
Spiritual strength.
And yes... physical strength.

Have you ever met someone who, the moment you're around them, you immediately feel at ease? I would call that strength.

Or perhaps you know someone who has been through unimaginable challenges and yet still smiles, approaches life with wisdom and curiosity, and keeps lightness in their heart. That, too, is strength.

When it comes to physical strength, there are two things that matter most.

The first is learning how to appropriately load the body.

And guess what? That doesn't have to mean spending hours in the gym lifting heavy weights.

Strength can be built through bodyweight exercises (my personal favorite), mobility work, resistance bands, carrying groceries, lifting bags, hiking hills, getting up and down off the floor, and so many other forms of meaningful movement.

Th...

Happy Middle of Summer, Everyone!

One day it's cold, the next it's hot, and then it's cold again... welcome to a Bay Area summer! 😊

Whatever the weather is doing, I hope your summer has been filled with belly laughs, long walks, lingering dinners, and meaningful time with friends and family.

I have some exciting things coming up that I'd love to share with you!

September Strong is here!
By popular request, this workshop will be held on a Saturday, and I couldn't be more excited. We'll spend the morning moving, learning, getting stronger, and exploring how to build a resilient body from the inside out. I always leave these workshops feeling inspired by this community, and I hope you'll join us.

I also have some wonderful news...

I'm thrilled to announce that I'll be leading a Love of Movement Retreat in beautiful Mallorca, Spain, next fall! Registration opens this August and closes in December, so yes—this is one that requires a little future planning. 😊

One of my favorite ideas i...

 Grieving the body you once had—and accepting where you are now—is a challenge, to say the least.

But acceptance does not mean giving up.

If you are part of this community and reading this, I know something about you: you are not ready to park the car just yet. In fact, you are the opposite. You want to keep moving, keep exploring, and keep living a full life for as long as you can.

You are willing to try something new—even if it feels a little “weird” at first—in order to stay on the field of your life.

In a recent class, one of my clients, now in her 70s, shared that one of the hardest things has been grieving the body she once had. She said that at a certain age, some people are told, “Well, that’s just how it is now. Time to park it.”

But not her.

Since working with one of my colleagues and now with me, she has decreased her pain from a 10 to a 2. She is not giving up on feeling better. She is continuing to learn, experiment, and show up for herself.

I am learning this too a...

Happy June Friends,

I recently returned from a visit with my 97-year-old grandmother. What a gift it was to sit with her, listen to stories from her life, and simply be in her presence. It was a meaningful trip that I will hold dear in my heart.

My grandmother grew up on a watermelon and tobacco farm without electricity or running water. Imagine that for a moment. No screens, no notifications, no constant stream of information. Life moved at a different pace. The days were shaped by the seasons, the weather, the land, and the work that needed to be done.

As I listened to her stories, I found myself reflecting on how much our environment shapes us.

At one point I asked her what her secret was to living such a long life.

She paused for a moment and said, "I'm not sure. I just focused on the good times."

I loved that answer.

Not because her life was easy. It certainly wasn't. Like all of us, she experienced loss, hardship, and challenges along the way. Yet when she tells stories, s...

“Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”

-Mary Oliver

It’s almost summer.
Graduations, weddings, vacations are upon us.

I hope you take some time to sit by a river or the ocean and let your mind and body soften in the sun.
I hope you make time for long evenings and long walks where you forget your phone.
I hope you play and laugh until you cry.

And I hope—somewhere in all of that—you remember to feel your body.

To notice your breath.
To notice your feet on the ground.
To let yourself actually be in the moments you’re moving through.

I hope you let your eyes follow the birds as they move across the sky.
That you look far and wide.
That you let your eyes soften into the distance and begin to take in the world all around you.

Because when we allow our eyes to look into the distance, it can signal to the nervous system that it’s safe to move and explore.
The body often softens when we do this.
And letting natural light into the eyes helps reset our inter...