58 articles

After one of the most challenging years of my life, I think I finally realise what burnout is. The saddest thing of all is that now I am on the right side of my experience, I watch helplessly as others around me experience the same thing but with different outcomes.

I have lost count of how many people have told me they can't meditate. Sometimes they say it with a kind of proud resignation, I've tried, I'm just not that kind of person. Sometimes, with a frustration that suggests they genuinely wanted it to work. Sometimes with a faint embarrassment, as though they've failed at something that seems to come easily to everyone else.

The first time I experienced a sound bath, I didn't quite know what to do with myself. I lay there, watching the ceiling, waiting for something to happen and then frustrated with myself for waiting, because weren't I supposed to just... let go?

What happens when the dust settles after eleven months of wandering? After living out of a single suitcase and a "long list of hell yes's" alongside an even longer list of "no’s," you eventually find yourself standing in the quiet of what used to be your life.

Travel has a way of unravelling us. It stretches our boundaries and expands our horizons, but in the movement, we often lose the steady pulse of our daily rituals. After eight months on the road, I’ve realised that protecting your practice isn’t about rigid adherence to a schedule; it’s about finding the spaces that help you return to yourself—the ones that feel less like a workout and more like medicine.

We often look to others to decide what we want. We glimpse a moment in their life — a success, a lifestyle, a relationship - and imagine that having what they have will complete something in us. In truth, what we’re seeing is never the full picture. It’s a snapshot lifted out of a much longer, messier, deeply human story.

I’ve always believed that self-inquiry can be a portal. Sometimes that portal is meditation. Sometimes it’s heartbreak. Sometimes it’s travel, long and lonely and bewildering. But recently, it came in the form of something unexpected:Running my astrological birth chart and my human design through ChatGPT.

There are times when self-understanding doesn’t come from doing more, fixing more, or striving harder - but from seeing yourself clearly for the first time. Recently, I explored both my astrological birth chart and Human Design, not to predict the future, but to understand myself more deeply during a period of transition. What unfolded wasn’t instruction or certainty, but recognition. This reflection explores what these systems are, why so many are drawn to them right now, and how they can offer permission to embrace the parts of ourselves we’ve often tried to override.

As this year comes to a close, I’ve been reflecting on what “slowing down” really ended up being for me. When I imagined it, I pictured beaches, sunrise yoga sessions, sunsets with salty hair, and the kind of inner peace that glossy wellness posts make look effortless. And yes, there were moments that felt like that. But most of the time, slowing down wasn’t glamorous. It was messy, humbling, grounding and honest. It looked like a compromise. It asked me to make choices I didn’t always expect. It made me meet myself in ways I had never truly allowed before.

We often think of technology as something external — built, coded, controlled. Yet long before the hum of machines and the glow of screens, there existed another kind of technology: one that required no devices, only awareness. Ancient yogis discovered that within each of us lies an intricate network, a system of energy, emotion, and intelligence — capable of profound transformation when we learn how to access it.

We spend much of our lives replaying the past, thoughts become familiar, feelings become habitual, and the body begins to live in cycles of memory. What feels like “just the way things are” is often simply a loop of remembered emotions.

Energy moves where attention flows. Both ancient yoga and modern science tell us this truth in different languages, yet the essence remains the same: what you focus on expands.

There comes a time when we begin to notice that the patterns repeating in our lives are not coincidences; they are mirrors. The way we love, react, protect ourselves, and withdraw often stems from stories we didn’t consciously choose. They are scripts written by earlier versions of ourselves, shaped by our experiences, emotions, and beliefs.

We often speak of love as something we either have or don’t, something we fall into or out of. Yet few of us pause long enough to consider its deeper purpose. What if love is not the destination, but the lesson itself?

When I set out on what I half-jokingly called my adult gap year, I had a very clear picture of what I was chasing. I wanted adventure. Something new every day. A change of scenery. Access to incredible things for my photography.

There are people in our lives who remind us to play; the ones who make you want to cartwheel on the beach, run along the sand, or balance, laughing, in a rock pool in warrior three. On my Koh Samui retreat, there was one such person: Bronte.

In the tapestry of our lives, certain individuals appear at pivotal moments, their presence seemingly orchestrated by forces beyond our comprehension. These encounters often feel serendipitous, yet within the framework of yogic philosophy, they are seen as manifestations of divine timing, guiding us toward growth and self-realisation.

There are moments in life when we meet people who feel like mirrors. All the qualities we long to recognise in ourselves appear so effortlessly in them. And then, as you spend time together, you realise something extraordinary: what you see in them is what they see in you. The connection becomes something rare and beautiful — a space where you bring out the best in one another, even though just days before you were strangers.

Yoga has always been more than movement. Long before it became a practice of postures, it was described in the ancient texts as a complete framework for living with steadiness and clarity. The Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali remind us: “Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.” (Yoga Sūtras I.2)

Yoga is often thought of as postures on a mat or quiet studio time. Yet the ancient texts describe it far more broadly, as a framework for cultivating steadiness, awareness, and presence in every aspect of life. The Yoga Sūtras tell us:

Transformation is a word we see everywhere these days, especially on retreats. But what does it really mean? And why are so many retreats offering it as part of their experience?

In times past, people could retreat into caves or forests in search of clarity, stepping away from the noise until answers arrived in silence. Today, life feels far less simple. We are constantly pulled in different directions, with advice, expectations, and ideas about wellness and success coming at us from all sides. Each day presents countless small choices: what to eat, how to spend our time, who we spend it with, and even how we speak up for ourselves. Learning to say no with kindness and without guilt is not just about the big decisions; it’s about honouring these small choices, nurturing self-respect, and creating balance in everyday life.


I have been practising yoga for about eight years and teaching for the past eighteen months. When I finally felt it was my time to guide others along the yogic journey, I also knew that my own practice was far from finished. My curiosity and hunger for growth led me to immerse myself in three Moksha Yoga Teacher Trainings. After completing my 200-hour training in Bali in January 2024, I continued with a 110-hour Meditation Teacher training, and then dove into Yin and Sound Medicine simultaneously.

There are places in the world that make you feel whole, grounded, and deeply nourished, and there are places that quietly take from you, chipping away at the equilibrium you’ve worked to cultivate. It can feel as though the culture of a place seeps through your skin, shaping your energy and attitude before you’ve even noticed.

There’s something quietly profound, and often overlooked, about the boundaries and standards that shape our lives. Not always the ones we consciously set, but those gently handed down to us by the people and spaces we inhabit. Whether in work, friendships, family, or romantic relationships, these invisible lines quietly frame what feels possible, what we believe we deserve, and ultimately, how we see ourselves.

Paramahansa Yogananda’s Autobiography of a Yogi is more than a spiritual memoir; it’s an invitation to see life through the lens of the soul. In his telling, the extraordinary becomes accessible, not as far-off miracles but as a way of living rooted in self-awareness, discipline, and love.

I read The Surrender Experiment just days after walking away from my corporate job, twelve months into the unknown. No guarantees, no structured plan. Just a quiet knowing that something had shifted.

Yes, I’ve been to some incredible places over the last few months. But what I’ve realised is that when you don’t have a “home” to go back to, or more importantly, no clear end date, even the most remarkable experiences begin to feel… normal. And normal, when stretched too long, loses its magic.

A journey inward to awareness, stillness and freedom. Some books arrive like whispers. Others arrive as gifts. For me, The Untethered Soul was both.

In the modern wellness world, the surface often appears to be a glow: luminous skin, green smoothies, gym schedules, lymphatic drainage, and cold plunges. And while all of these can support well-being, they don’t touch the deeper layers of what it means to be well.

There’s a common belief in the wellness world that everything begins with self-love. But I’ve come to learn that it’s not always true. You don’t need to force love upon yourself, or convince yourself that you are worthy, or even forgive yourself first to love yourself. And while an at-home facial or a scented candle might offer a moment of stillness, they aren’t the same as true self-love. I’m talking about the kind of quiet recognition that lives deep within you, the inner knowing that you are already loved, already whole.

Home has been in flux for me lately. With travel comes the idea that I’m a nomad, that I can become comfortable wherever I lay my head. And to some extent, it’s true. I open a suitcase, light some incense, set up a playlist, and move on my yoga mat, and I feel grounded. A sense of home lives in these rituals.

There was a time when wellness travel felt like a luxury reserved for the few. A distant dream of remote retreats, all-inclusive spas, and Instagrammable jungle sanctuaries. But something has shifted. Wellness is no longer a destination; it’s a way of travelling, of seeing, of being. And now, it’s becoming more accessible, more intentional, and more beautifully human.

There’s a certain beauty in packing not just clothes or chargers, but your rituals. A yoga mat, a journal, snacks that feel good, shoes that let you walk for miles — these are tools that shift travel from hectic to healing.

Wellness doesn’t begin and end in your home or at the studio or gym you belong to. It can be a mindset you can carry, a ritual you can roll out wherever you land. From morning breathwork on a balcony to journaling beside a window in a new city, the rituals that sustain you can become part of the way you travel, work, and live.

When I look at the modern world of yoga, I see familiar patterns: the yoga studio, the teacher, the aspirational "yoga body." Much of the messaging circles around self-improvement. But the deeper message, the one that stayed with me through all my trainings, is that yoga isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who you've always been.

Or, what happened when I threw out the itinerary and finally listened to that quiet inner voice. This isn’t an anti-blog. It’s not a rebellion against to-do lists, or a rejection of all the amazing things Bali has to offer. It’s simply an invitation to do things your own way.

We’ve been in Vietnam for 12 days, and I’d be lying if I said it’s been plain sailing. After the peace we found in Bali, this rhythm of packing up and moving every 4–5 days feels tedious. There was something grounding about our daily yoga practice there, something magical in the stillness that gave our time structure and soul. Now, without that anchor, we find ourselves drifting, disoriented and restless.

I wrote this piece back in April 2022, and it feels poetic that it still holds relevance now, three years later, in April 2025. I’ve left most of it unchanged. It speaks to something tender about the way time carries us—sometimes with a gust, other times with the softest nudge from one place to the next.

Why Slow Travel in Bali Changed Everything. After the privilege of visiting Bali five times, I’ve realised we no longer need to chase the tourist trail. We’ve already ticked off the temples, the beaches, the day trips. So this time, we chose to stay still. We let Bali show us something else entirely: a slower rhythm, a different kind of magic.

A Return to Self, Through Movement and Community. It’s been six wonderful weeks of daily practice at Alchemy Yoga & Meditation Centre in Ubud. Six weeks of breath, sweat, stillness, and subtle transformation. We chose this space instinctively, drawn back by the magic of the Alchemy café, which we first fell in love with eight years ago. The yoga studio felt like a natural extension of that same energy: nourishing, grounded, and open-hearted.

Today, as we stepped out of the beautiful, sun-warmed space that is Alchemy in Ubud for the final time, we were handed a goodbye gift. Completely unexpected. Entirely unnecessary.

Without any expectations, write the answers to these questions. Write freely and as if you are talking to yourself, someone safe and silent. See what comes up with out judgment, but curiosity see where these questions take you.

We left Bali today after two wonderful months of getting to know ourselves again. That might sound odd, but when you’ve lived in survival mode for so long, it’s impossible to know who you are beneath the armour—armour that’s protected you from chaos, but also from truth. Truth like: you were ticking boxes, going through motions, cohabiting with someone who was quietly slipping into sadness. And truthfully, the silence about that sadness made it hard to distinguish what was "normal" from what was drowning.

This is a gentle invitation to explore worth beyond work and wealth, going deeper into what it means without the cultural lens that you sit behind, the one determined by your place in the world, physically, metaphorically, familiarity, etc.

Regulating our emotions is a journey. You might be someone who feels deeply. Who notices the shift in the room when someone else enters. Who picks up on unspoken tensions, unmet needs, and unsaid apologies. You might be empathetic, curious, creative—and sometimes, exhausted. You may have learned to manage your emotions with a certain grace, yet still find yourself undone by the sudden sharpness of disappointment or frustration.

In a world that constantly demands our attention—from deadlines and devices to the never-ending to-do lists—it’s easy to drift away from ourselves. But coming home to yourself doesn’t require a retreat or a spa day. (Although you should do these things too.) Sometimes, it doesn’t need to cost anything. Sometimes, it’s about the smallest gestures—things we can do right now, wherever we are, to re-centre, ground, and feel more us again.

It’s all about finding the right book at the right time. I have said it before, but it is taking on a life of its own; every time I get to the end of a book, I am a little more open, a little further along my path and a little deeper into my journey. These recommended books combine philosophy, ancient wisdom, spirituality, meditation, health and well-being. It’s an incredible reading list and I wanted to share it with you.

Finding trust in yourself so that you can trust the journey you are on. Choosing to believe that not to know that what is happening at any given time is ok it’s part of the process. It's all part of what will one day make up your story. The right here, right now can feel heavy, uncomfortable or painful but it is temporary. It will pass. You cannot feel the depths of every experience if it is only the fear you let in. What if you were to explore beyond the fear? Beyond the pain, there will be a message, a lesson or something stuck that you have yet to explore. Without delving into what it means, you are missing the lessons your life tries to show you. The parts of you that will make you all you know inside you already are. The parts of you that you long to share and be at ease with, the raw the vulnerable, the real you. Moving through the pain, into understanding is how you find freedom in letting go.

One day you will look back upon the things you believed and it will seem as if someone else’s voice was directing you. The voice inside will evolve if you let it, allow it the space to learn from your mistakes, and test the theories that the child version of you learned to believe. Trust, be brave and create new beliefs for yourself to live by. Once you start to listen, you’ll embark on a deeper understanding of yourself and the world around you.

Practising gratitude is said to improve sleep, reduce stress and improve mood. I think it also helps you find presence, for a moment, when you think about all the things you are grateful for you look back of course but you look at it from the present. The moment you are in, the moment that holds you that very second.

Simple, soulful ways to feel more grounded — right where you are. Living well doesn’t have to be expensive. In fact, some of the most powerful lifestyle changes cost nothing at all — just attention, intention, and a willingness to show up for yourself.

Self-love is when you put yourself first, it might be for a moment or once a week or maybe it's whenever you need to self-soothe. It’s finding things that are just for you. Moments that make you happy that you can pull on and continue to cultivate over and over again.

Writing regularly is something that is said to free the mind, to process one's thoughts, to download the noise. For some, it is a collection of thoughts that were, in the moment of writing important. For others, it's a way of making sense of the hundreds of thoughts we carry every day.

Everyone you meet in this world of ours has some form of anxiety, fear or stress that will show up in their body and most of us do not know what it is. It might be butterflies, headache, dizziness, feeling overwhelmed or some other sense of unease. Whatever it is that your body does to send you a signal, here are a few simple tricks that you can use anywhere, to feel grounded.

A sensory guide to calming your nervous system and reclaiming peace. There’s something deeply human about wanting to feel in control of your environment. It’s not about being fussy or high-maintenance — it’s about tuning in. Attuning your surroundings to support your body, your mind, and your emotional balance is a form of self-respect.

Living a wholesome life with good stable mental health is what we all dream of, isn’t it? Why is it that when you google wellness or well-being you are met with long-form complicated articles, fluffy images with soft pink colours or centres for massage and facial treatments? It’s no wonder we all seem so confused.