Everyone who knows me knows I’m a big dreamer. I’ve always been someone who makes vision boards and maps out my future with five- to ten-year plans. I love imagining what’s next, setting goals, and working toward them with intention. Sometimes, I even sit with my eyes closed and let the feelings just wash over me of what it will be like when I finally “arrive” into my future. And right now, that future feels so close I can almost touch it. I’ve signed the lease on an adorable

I’ve always been a goal-oriented person. I love setting big, ambitious targets and working hard to reach them. But somewhere along the way, especially during my journey through a Clinical Doctorate in Physical Therapy, I realized I wasn’t giving myself credit for the small steps that got me there. When I started the program at Baylor University, I was laser-focused on graduation. I told myself, “just get through this trimester,” or “once I pass boards, then I’ll celebrate.” B

I used to think I had a solid grasp on self-care. As a yoga teacher for over a decade, I taught others how to slow down, breathe deeply, and reconnect with themselves. But nothing challenged my understanding of self-care quite like this first year in a Doctor of Physical Therapy program. That year has been intense. Between lectures, labs, exams, and very little breaks, my schedule has felt like a never-ending sprint. I've been constantly juggling deadlines, trying to absorb c

When I decided to go back to school in my late thirties to pursue a Clinical Doctorate in Physical Therapy, I knew it would be a challenge. What I didn’t expect was the wave of imposter syndrome that came with it. For fifteen years, I had built a fulfilling career as a yoga teacher. I founded Spira Yoga School, trained teachers, led workshops, and cultivated a strong community in Northern California. I was confident in my role, grounded in my knowledge, and passionate about w

Moving back to Texas felt like coming full circle. After years of living coast to coast - from the East Coast in my early twenties to planting roots in Northern California in my thirties - I found myself returning to the state where I grew up. It was a homecoming, but not without complexity. California was where I finally settled down. I built a life, a community, and a career there. I founded a yoga school, taught classes, trained teachers, and shared coffee dates and yoga p

Most of us are aware of the programming we've received throughout our lives. Various messages embedded into our psyche about how the world should work and how we should be. We grow up and discover these messages, their roots, their depth, and we work towards rebooting, redesigning, and reprogramming ourselves. Part of me dreads Christmas. It’s a holiday filled with triggers, and the buttons of my deepest programming are often pressed. Another part of me is thankful for this t

At this point in my life, I have not had the privilege to be a mother. Although I have created many forms of art and birthed my own business, I have not physically given birth to another human life form. Maybe someday I will, maybe I won’t; it has yet to be decided. I cannot speak from the experience of motherhood, all I can do it speak from what I imagine are similar experiences, and from there I am writing this tribute to all mothers. Motherhood is a rite of passage, and al

I never really knew what travel writing was all about. Sure, I’ve read an article here and a blog there, sensing that I, too, would like to write while traveling. My imagination led me to believe that throughout my travels I would need to be diligent, carving out a few hours every other day, sitting down and squeezing out a piece about where I had been and what I had seen. I imagined it a chore, a job. And to write more frequently, one of my New Year’s resolutions, is a part