My about page tells you where I trained and what my classes feel like. This page is about why I teach, and the ideas that shape every class I lead.
As a Czech-Ghanaian woman born in Norway and raised in Los Angeles, I spent much of my life struggling to feel at home in my identity. I was always searching for a sense of belonging in the world.
Becoming a scientist fed my curiosity about how the universe works. Yoga gave me something different, but complementary. It helped me come home to myself. On the mat, I learned to shift out of fight or flight and into rest and digest, and to find a practice that nourishes not just my intellectual curiosity, but my mind, body, and soul.
I teach because I believe everyone deserves that sense of home. Not a performance, not a shape to copy, but a way to return to your own body and breath, wherever you come from and wherever you are today.
Patanjali's Yoga Sutras describe asana in three words: sthira sukham asanam. A posture should be steady and easy. Strength and softness at the same time. This is the heart of how I teach power vinyasa. We work hard, and we build heat, but effort never has to mean strain. If your breath becomes ragged, the pose has stopped being yoga. Coming back to a steady breath is always the more advanced choice.
In my classes, breath sets the pace and movement follows. Each inhale creates space, and each exhale invites you deeper or steadier. Linking breath to movement is what turns a sequence of shapes into a moving meditation. It also gives you a built-in feedback system: your breath will tell you the truth long before your ego does.
Ahimsa, non-harm, is the first of the yamas, the ethical foundations of yoga. On the mat, ahimsa means refusing to force your body into someone else's version of a pose. Bodies differ in bone structure, history, and what they need on a given day. I offer options in every class, not as a lesser path, but as an invitation to choose what actually serves you. The version of a pose that works for your body is the right one, regardless of what's happening on the next mat.
The Sutras pair two ideas: abhyasa, consistent practice, and vairagya, non-attachment. Show up regularly, and release your grip on the outcome. Some days your balance is solid and some days it isn't. Both days count. Progress in yoga is less about touching your toes and more about how you meet yourself when things wobble.
Svadhyaya, self-study, is where my science background and my yoga practice meet most closely. A good experiment starts with honest observation, without deciding the result in advance. I encourage students to approach their bodies the same way. Notice. Get curious. Adjust. Your practice becomes a lifelong inquiry rather than a checklist.
Asana is one of the eight limbs of yoga described by Patanjali, alongside ethical practice, breathwork, turning the senses inward, concentration, meditation, and absorption. Most of my classes are movement-forward, but I weave in pranayama, moments of stillness, and intention setting so that the physical practice becomes a doorway to the rest. The postures prepare the body to sit comfortably with the mind.
Yoga has roots that stretch back thousands of years in India, and I teach with gratitude for that lineage. Part of honoring it, for me, is making the practice accessible. That's why I lead free community classes, keep my on-demand library free, and use plain language in class. You don't need to be flexible, experienced, or dressed a certain way. You just need to show up and breathe.
I hope to see you on the mat.
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