what are you learning about yourself?
hello dear reader,
thank you, as always, for walking with me — through the terrain of pain and poison that comes with being human, toward something more sacred. toward soul. toward the deep well of healing that waits within us all.
today, I come to you not with answers, but with a question — an inquiry, gentle and alive.
what are you learning about yourself?
this is a practice of svadhyaya — the fourth niyama in the eight-limbed path of yoga — the art of self-study, of turning inward with curiosity and reverence. it reminds us: the keys are not out there. the code is not in someone else. you are your greatest teacher. you are your own healer.
this morning, I opened space with the women at TRICAP with the same question — what are you learning about yourself in this moment, in this season, that has brought some benefit, some shift, some glimpse of growth?
words hold power. and so does awareness.
so let us sit with this question tenderly. let us look at ourselves not through the lens of lack or harsh critique, but through the eyes of love — noticing the subtle victories, the hard-earned insights, the ways we’ve stayed upright when it would’ve been easier to collapse.
the world is burning — in both literal and figurative ways.
and still, here we are.
how have we endured the heat? how have we been shaped by it?
how have we remained, or reassembled?
how are we choosing to respond, not react?
is there a chance — even the smallest one — that what’s pressing on us might also be pointing us toward something?
freedom?
clarity?
a fearlessness we forgot we had?
svadhyaya has saved me more times than I can count — from outsourcing my power, from placing others on pedestals built by my projections, from thinking the next book or teacher would finally show me who I am.
don’t get me wrong — we need the nourishment. we need wisdom passed down, stories that stir us, reminders that growth is possible.
but sometimes, especially in wellness and spiritual spaces, we get caught chasing the next thing…
and forget:
we’re not just on the path.
we are the path.
we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
we hold the keys, the codes, the chances.
that’s what I love about svadhyaya — it draws me back to myself. to my breath. to my patterns. to the thoughts I think and the feelings I resist. to the way I enter a room, or how I sit with myself in silence.
there is always something to learn when we are willing to look — gently, compassionately, with curiosity instead of judgment.
what I shared with the women today was this:
I’ve learned that I can be in a room full of men and remain absolutely regulated.
No fear. No anxiety. No impulse to shrink or be silenced by the echo of past harms, or the imprint of toxic masculinity that once told me to be small, quiet, or doubtful of my worth.Instead, I’ve stood grounded in my knowing. In my presence. In my truth.
These last few weeks, as I’ve started holding space with the men at TRICAP, I’ve realized: I’m ready. I can. I am.
And if I can feel that groundedness in that room, what might be possible in all the other spaces where male presence has historically held more power than the identities I embody, the experiences I’ve survived, or the wisdom I’ve carried through every chapter that’s brought me here?
The benefit has been the homecoming of my own power.
The benefit has been witnessing just how much I’ve healed.
And knowing that this healing will hold me through every next challenge—within and beyond—while I show up in my skin, my gender, and my dreams.
and their shares — the women’s — were profound.
they spoke of regret, yes — but not as something that drags them under.
instead, they’re learning to let it guide them toward something more just.
more honest.
more human.
they spoke of feeling again — big feelings.
and learning how to be in those feelings without running.
they spoke of seeing themselves not as their illness, their crime, their addiction — but as a heart, a soul, a being in recovery, in remembrance, in return.
they are learning to be who they truly are — in community, with support, with dignity.
they are learning they are worthy.
and so, dear reader — I ask you again:
what are you learning about yourself that is of benefit to you?
what have you seen, endured, shifted, softened into?
and how might you carry those lessons not as a burden, but as a guide?
forward, not back.
present, not perfect.
with hope, even if it’s small.
I would love to hear your reflections, if you feel called to share.
we are always learning — and we are never learning alone.
✨ Join me for a weekend of practice, purpose, and possibility ✨
🌿 Vinyasa Flow at The Hive
📍 In person at The Hive, 1031 E Saginaw Rd, Midland, MI
🗓️ Saturday, April 26th | 10:00–11:15am
This will be our final 10am practice—beginning in May, we shift to a 9am start time.
Tiered Pricing for Equity + Access:
🌱 Community Rate – $15 (discounted)
🌿 Sustainer Rate – $20 (at cost)
🌳 Supporter Rate – $25 (helps others attend)
Mats and props are available on site. No one will ever be turned away for lack of funds.
🐾 Grief Circle for Pet Loss
A tender, heart-held gathering to honor the animals we love and miss
📍 Online via Zoom — registration required, sign up here
🗓️ Sunday, April 27th | 1:00–3:00pm EST
💌 Limited spots available | $45 investment
Together with my comrade in compassion, we’ll hold space for remembrance, healing, and connection. Julie will offer intuitive messages from the animals we’re mourning, while I guide gentle movement, breath, and Oracle readings.
All grief is welcome. All love is honored.
Both offerings are held with care, trauma-awareness, and a deep reverence for our shared humanity.
If either speaks to your heart, I’d be honored to hold space with you.
With love,
keri