Hey y’all,
This offering today is movement. But it’s also memory. It’s breath and body and reclamation. It’s a way back to ourselves in the midst of a world that is constantly trying to pull us out of ourselves.
We are living through so much right now—ICE raids and militarized terror in our cities, the authoritarian rise of Donald Trump and the cruelty of his agenda, the climate collapsing, genocide still unfolding in Gaza, and all the heartbreak and helplessness that comes with watching so much harm and injustice unfold. And that’s just the collective.
Inside our own lives? Whew. We’re all carrying something sacred. Some story. Some pain. Some longing. Some loss. Some miracle. And it’s a lot to hold.
That’s why this practice matters.
And I want you to know—before I ever stepped on a yoga mat, I was practicing yoga. The ethics. The spirit. The soul of it. I didn’t know it then, but it was already working its way into my bones. It was choosing me, just like I was trying to remember me.
And when I did finally get brave enough to try a little 7-minute YouTube asana practice… let me be real—it was hell. Like, first pose in and I wanted to run. Flee. Slam my laptop shut. My mind was screaming “nope,” and my body? She was overwhelmed with all she had been holding onto—grief, trauma, unprocessed stories, the shock of my parents’ deaths, the rupture of my life as I knew it.
I had spent years in high-intensity movement—kickboxing, triathlons, running and running and running. But this? This made me stop. And in that pause, I felt everything I’d been sprinting away from. It cracked something open. It made me uncomfortable. It made me curious. And, eventually… it made me stay.
Seven minutes became my way in. A portal. A threshold. A softening. A remembering. Not into perfection, but into presence. Not into performance, but into practice.
And that’s what I’m inviting you into today.
This practice is not about what you can do—it’s about what you’re willing to feel. It’s not about touching your toes—it’s about touching the truth. It’s a mirror and a medicine, a space to meet yourself as you are and to hold that self with tenderness, strength, and grace.
So whenever you arrive here—whether it’s today or some other day—may this be a landing pad. A place where you can feel your breath, reconnect with your power, honor your truth, and remember what it means to be whole. To be here. To be human.
We weren’t meant to go through this alone. This world is heavy. The heartbreak is real. But so is the healing. And it begins within. One breath. One pose. One moment at a time.
We are here to be well.
We are here to be free.
We are here to feel it all.
Thank you for your courage.
Thank you for your commitment.
with hopeful purpose,
keri
PS: come practice with me in person and through zoom:
This Saturday, June 15th, we gather again for No Kings Day — a day to reclaim our inner sovereignty, shake off the shadows of oppression, and remember that our power lives in our presence, our purpose, and our practice.
🧘♀️ Vinyasa Flow at The Hive
Saturday at 9am | 1031 E Saginaw Rd, Midland, MI
Tiered pricing: $15 – $25
Text me if you’re coming: 989-860-5235
No one will ever be turned away.
This practice is for all of us — all who long to be well and free. We’ll meet ourselves on the mat and move through what is, together. Come as you are. Breathe, flow, and remember the strength, softness, and Sacredness inside of you.
💸 Tiered Pricing Explained:
$15 – for those needing support.
$20 – sustains the offering and space.
$25 – helps provide access for others.
And again — no one will ever be turned away.
*** please note, there is not practice 6/28 or 7/5 as I will be out of the country ***
And on Sunday, June 23rd from 1–3pm EST,
and I hold sacred space online for:💔 Pet Loss Grief Circle (Zoom)
A tender, trauma-informed space to honor the heartbreak of losing a beloved animal companion—whether through death, separation, or other transition.
Only 8 spots available to keep the space intimate.
To register: click here
We’re not meant to do this alone. This circle is a soft place to land, to let yourself grieve, and to be seen in it all.
Come tend to your spirit.
Come tend to your grief.
Come tend to your wholeness and your healing.
We need each other — and we need you.
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