The Seeds My Mother Planted

Motherhood has been, without question, the most rewarding journey of my life.

There is something about becoming a mom that changes the way you move through the world. Suddenly, your heart exists outside of your body. You begin measuring time differently. The days can feel long, loud, messy, exhausting, beautiful, and impossibly fast all at once. Then somehow, before you know it, those little humans are adults, and you’re left wondering how it all happened so quickly.

On Mother’s Day, I find myself thinking a lot about my own mom.

I miss her deeply. She was taken from us far too soon, and there are still moments I catch myself talking to her like she is in the room. I hear her voice and wisdom come out of my mouth. How I long to ask her advice, or hear her voice one more time. Grief is funny like that. It softens over time, but it never fully leaves. Love leaves fingerprints on the soul.

What she gave me, though, never disappeared.

My mother planted something beautiful inside of me. Her nurturing spirit, her wisdom, her kindness, her ability to forgive, and her way of making people feel cared for became part of who I am. I carried those qualities into raising my own children, and honestly, I know I carry them into the yoga studio every single day. In many ways, Sunshine has become an extension of that same energy. A place where people are seen, encouraged, supported, and reminded that they matter.

Yoga added another layer to it all.

Before yoga, life often felt rushed. Like I was constantly trying to get to the next thing while missing the moment I was actually in. Yoga taught me mindfulness. It taught me awareness. It taught me to pause long enough to truly experience my life, rather than racing through it.

Because of that practice, I was able to soak in motherhood in a different way.

I remember little things that could have easily been overlooked. Tiny hands reaching for mine. Bedtime stories. Exhausted mornings. Practices. Car rides. Conversations that probably seemed insignificant at the time but somehow became sacred memories later. Yoga helped me understand that these moments were the real stuff of life while they were happening, not just after they were gone.

That may be one of yoga’s greatest gifts.

Not flexibility.

Not handstands.

Not touching your toes.

Presence.

The ability to fully arrive for your own life.

This week in class, I hope you give yourself permission to slow down enough to notice the beauty that already exists around you. Maybe that is your family. Maybe it is your friends. Maybe it is simply your breath moving in and out of your body after a hard day.

And if Mother’s Day feels complicated for you, you are not alone. For some, it is joyful. For others, it carries grief, longing, loss, or complicated memories. Hold space for all of it. The heart is big enough to carry love and sadness at the same time.

To all the moms, stepmoms, grandmothers, bonus moms, dog moms, cat moms, plant moms, nurturers, caregivers, and women who spend their lives loving others so deeply… I see you.

And to my mom… thank you. Your love still moves through me every single day.