I’ve renamed my “Functional Movement, Yoga & Mobility” class to something simpler:
Sustainable Yoga.

What is Sustainable Yoga?
It’s still functional movement, yoga, and mobility — just under a name that feels less clunky.

Really, it’s yoga you’ll still be doing when you’re 90+.

I could’ve called it “modern yoga,” “anatomy-informed yoga,” or “functional yoga.”
But Sustainable Yoga felt right.

This practice:

• Focuses on alignment that makes sense for your body — grounded in biomechanics and a modern understanding of anatomy. (Traditional yoga cues never made sense to me, but these ones do.)
• Stays within functional ranges of motion, prioritising mobility (the intersection of strength, stability, and flexibility) rather than chasing passive flexibility, which can be risky if unsupported.
• Uses movement that prepares your body for everyday life, not just for poses.

There’s less focus on what a pose looks like — we’re not aiming for some fixed endpoint.

It’s about how it feels in your body.

There’s also a fun, creative, playful aspect to this practice — often missing in serious yoga classes.

It’s never about “getting it right.”

We don’t do many traditional yoga poses — no sun salutations or sequences you’ve done a million times, but some familiar shapes are still there, adapted with more purpose.

For example, Ustrasana (camel pose):
In the sustainable version, we use a controlled lean-back from kneeling to strengthen the quads and core. It’s no longer a deep backbend — because really, when will you need that in everyday life?

This approach is intelligently applied. And deeply relevant.

We live in modern bodies, shaped by modern lives. We sit a lot. Even those of us who train regularly are still mostly sedentary. We need movement that counters that — adaptable, consistent, and woven into our daily routines.

The core principles of Sustainable Yoga:
*Boundaries*
Respect your body’s boundaries — we don’t push into extreme ranges of motion without support and readiness.
*Variety & Diversity*
Our brains and nervous systems thrive on novelty — so we explore creative, playful movement variations.
*Frequency*
We need more movement than one yoga class a week. You’ll learn simple movements to integrate into daily life.
*Restore & Support*
Rest and nervous system regulation are key to making movement sustainable — and to feeling well in your body.

But why still call it yoga?

This approach comes from Heart & Bones Yoga, one of the (best) teacher trainings I’ve done.

There were lots of thoughtful conversations in that training — about what yoga means today, and how to honour its roots while allowing for respectful evolution.

Ultimately, yoga is about union.
And that essence is still here.
The heart of yoga is still here.

When we connect to our bodies with kindness — through movement that’s compassionate, functional, and available to all — we are practicing yoga.

Sustainable Yoga is on at Embodied Soul Thursdays at 10am

I didn’t grow up feeling safe in my body.
There was a lot I didn’t understand about my experience back then. But what I know now is that my system was in chronic dysregulation. I was highly sensitive, always anxious, possibly autistic, and constantly overwhelmed by the world around me.


I survived by shutting down — becoming the quiet child in the corner who never spoke.


Fortunately, I didn’t develop harmful coping strategies when I became a teenager — probably because alcohol and drugs weren’t accessible to me (being so withdrawn from others). But I did rely on swimming. I trained for up to 20 hours a week. The water helped regulate me.


Later, I found safety in running and long walks. Eventually, I found yoga and meditation.


Around age 29, I started entering spaces that promised transformation — intense Vipassana meditation retreats, breathwork, energy healing workshops, conscious dance, Access Consciousness. I went to workshops where people processed their emotions with such intensity and drama. You name it, I probably tried it at some point.


I’m a Scorpio, so the allure of transformational spaces was strong. I’d often feel more open after these experiences — moments of clarity, insight, even euphoria. But I’d always crash afterward, overwhelmed by waves of emotion, looping in grief, sadness, anger, and fear.


I couldn’t understand why the transformation didn’t stick. So I worked even harder on myself — thinking I just had to process more, go deeper, heal harder. There were times in my life where I spent all day, every day, on healing.


And while there were profound shifts, there was also a constant sense of urgency. I felt pressure to arrive. To wake up. To reach enlightenment. And shame that I wasn’t already further along. I felt like I should be some kind of spiritual master — if effort equalled results.


But really, I was still avoiding the pain of being alive.


The shift came when I stopped trying to arrive. When I stopped seeking. When I actually gave up on healing — on trying to avoid this world. I stopped pushing and making intensity the goal.


The most profound changes happened when I began learning how to feel safe in my body. When I centred nervous system safety above everything else.


That’s when transformation stopped overwhelming me. Letting the healing process slow down — really slow down — to the point where I stopped seeking transformation at all, was, ironically, the most transformative shift of all.


I don’t seek out euphoric experiences anymore. I do far less spiritual healing. And when I do it, I spend time allowing it to integrate before I move onto something else.


I’m very discerning about the spaces I enter now. Most transformational spaces don’t feel safe to my nervous system. But the subtle shifts I experience now are the most profound.


Over time, I’ve become less reactive. Everything feels less urgent. I don’t over-plan or overthink like I used to. I’m more comfortable just showing up and being present. I do less pushing and more surrendering.


I don’t need big breakthroughs to trust the direction I’m moving in.


The evolution of my healing journey is what has inspired my restorative yoga practice.


While my classes used to be about offering more, doing more, being more of service to people (a reflection of where I was — still not feeling like I was enough), now I prioritise creating the conditions for safety — so the body can become a home.


That means I do a lot less. I’m just here, being present with you, creating a space where you can find safety with yourself.


And I trust you. I deeply trust that when you feel safe, your body will know what to do.


Restorative yoga is not a luxury. I think it’s often viewed as one — especially when people are in survival mode. But creating a safe space for yourself to feel what’s present in your body is not indulgent. It’s necessary.


If my journey resonates, I’m offering Restorative Yoga on Fridays & Sundays at 5:15 pm. 🤍

I once went on a date with a powerlifter.
I told him about my idea to combine yoga and heavy lifting.
He told me to “stay in my lane.”

I checked out of the date then and there and never saw him again.

At one time in my life, a comment like that might’ve made me doubt myself.
But I’ve learned the cost of listening to people like that is a life half-lived.

I’ve never really stayed in one lane.
I’ve always followed what felt good — what ignited a spark in me.

Lately, I’ve been telling people about my new space.
I don’t even get to the intuitive healing part before they pause, trying to figure out how yoga and heavy lifting could possibly go together.

But I’m not teaching conventional yoga.
Yoga didn’t land for me until I brought in mobility and functional movement and until I found teachers who were questioning and redefining everything.

Heavy lifting would’ve felt hollow if I hadn’t brought in self-awareness and emphasised capability, empowerment, and confidence over aesthetics.

Spiritual healing felt too fluffy until I found ways to stay connected to the body.

I’m too grounded for most spiritual spaces.
Too deep for most fitness spaces.

So what do you do when nothing you’re offered really resonates?
You make your own thing.

I’m not doing this to be successful.
I didn’t do market research.
I didn’t ask what Motueka needed.

I’m building what I couldn’t find.

Because I’m done with other people’s boxes.
I’m done with compromising just to belong.

This is the question life keeps asking me:
Will you dilute yourself to be accepted, or stay true to what your soul is calling for, even if no one understands?

These days, I follow what feels light.
What feels alive with a spark of joy.

And the only judgment I get now is subtle.

My intuitive healing friends say, “I just can’t picture you lifting weights.”
My fitness colleagues go quiet when I talk about energy.

But I’m not here to make sense to everyone.

That’s mediocrity — fitting yourself into an easily digested box.

I’ve chosen not to be digestible.
I’ve chosen to follow what my heart desires.

I dated another man once — someone who had let go of his dreams.
He shared that with me like it was just what adults do.
I had empathy for his experience, but I couldn’t relate.
I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t fought to reclaim his dreams.

And so, I’ve been single for a long time. Thirteen years.

For a while, I thought that meant I was unlovable.
Now I understand, I’m just unwilling to settle for mediocrity.
Not in relationships. Not in life.

A little under a year ago, I made a decision that changed my life.
I gave up on dating, deleted the apps and decided to focus completely on myself.

That choice was one of the most empowering I’ve ever made.
I poured all the energy that had gone into searching for a partner into training for my first ultra marathon.

And in less than eight months after I began running, I ran 54 km.
It felt like an initiation into my own power. I was so proud of myself.
A few weeks later, I found my new studio space.

So no, I don’t have a business that makes sense to everyone.
I’m a solo parent.
I don’t have a partner to support me (financially, energetically, emotionally).

And I’ve accepted that I’m probably going to stay single the rest of my life.

Letting go of something I sincerely wanted was no small thing, but staying stuck, longing for a relationship that wasn’t appearing, would’ve cost me even more.

What I have now is a life that I have to didn’t abandon myself to live.
I didn’t compromise for a mediocre relationship.
I have autonomy over my choices and my path.
​I own my life.

And I feel more empowered than I ever have.

There’s no magical thinking here — but there is magic.

That’s the key to moving beyond the shadow of mediocrity — not to compromise.

Embodied Soul might not make sense to everyone at first glance.

Heavy lifting. Yoga. Intuitive healing. Strength training for trampers.
People might wonder how it all fits together.

But for me, this work isn’t random — it’s what I live. These are the practices that have shaped me physically, emotionally, and spiritually. They’re how I’ve come home to myself, again and again.


Yes, this business exists to serve others — but it’s also a living expression of my soul.
And one thing I can’t leave out of that expression is my love of tramping.


A few years ago, I walked the length of Aotearoa on Te Araroa.

I didn’t train for it. I just showed up and started walking.

What carried me through was a lot of determination — and the mobility and body awareness I’d built through years of functional yoga. But by the time I reached the bottom of the South Island, my body was struggling.

My joints ached. My muscles weren’t coping. Sometimes my knees would just buckle under the weight of my body and my pack. I was incredibly lucky I didn’t get injured.

My cardiovascular fitness was better than it had ever been — but my body was screaming for strength.

And, as I never do things halfway, once I’d settled here in the Tasman region, I bought a gym and taught myself how to strength train. I did a heavy lifting mentorship with Kathryn Bruni-Young of Mindful Strength, and completed a year-long course to become a certified personal trainer.

I don’t get out tramping as often now — I’ve switched to ultra running so I can stay closer to home for my daughter and my business. But the strength training I’ve done has made a massive difference for my tramping when I do get out. I feel more stable, more resilient, and far less wrecked at the end of the day.

And that’s why I started this group.


Unless you want to stick to the popular tracks, New Zealand’s backcountry is hard. The trails are often steep, uneven, and unpredictable.

Strength and mobility aren’t just “nice to have” if you want to tramp in Aotearoa — they’re essential if you want to do it sustainably and injury-free.

Being prepared makes the experience so much more enjoyable. You don’t come home sore the next day, and there’s far less fatigue at the end of a big day on the trail.

That’s what my  group is about — building the kind of strength that supports your body in the bush, so you can keep doing the things you love for as long as you want to do them.

It’s for people who would love to get out tramping more often — but who’d prefer to do it with a group.

For those who want to connect with others, feel inspired, and plan adventures together.

For those who want to feel more capable, more resilient, and more supported in their bodies.

We meet twice a week, and train with a focus on building strength, mobility, and stability. Not just for general fitness, but for real terrain, long days, heavy packs, and the kind of movement New Zealand’s trails demand.

Right now the group is all women. The vibe is relaxed and welcoming — a space to build strength and confidence in your body, at your own pace, alongside others who also love wild places.
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