Today’s new moon rises in Aries, the first sign of the zodiac and the point from which everything begins again. If Pisces was the dream, the dissolving, the softening at the edges… Aries is the moment we open our eyes and decide what we are going to do with it.

This week in sangha, we continue discussing The Bhagavad Gita for Daily Living by Eknath Easwaran. We discussed Chapter 2 Verses 46-49. Each week, I will attempt to summarise the parts of the book we discuss.

We may not be able to change everything happening across the globe, but we can shape the atmosphere in our homes, our streets, and our communities. A small act of kindness offered quietly, right where we are, is never insignificant. In its own gentle way, it helps tip the balance of the world toward a little more care.

As we move deeper into March, our yoga practice continues to explore the fire element. Fire is often associated with energy, effort, and transformation. In yoga philosophy it relates to Manipura chakra, the centre of digestion and inner power. When we hear the word digestion, most of us immediately think of food. But the yogic understanding of digestion is much broader than that.

This week in sangha, we continued discussing The Bhagavad Gita for Daily Living by Eknath Easwaran. We discussed Chapter 2 Verses 26-38. Each week, I will attempt to summarise the parts of the book we discuss.

This new moon in Aquarius carries the familiar invitation to begin again, but not by pushing forward. Aquarius does not ask for urgency. It asks for perspective.

Self-love is often spoken about as an idea, a concept, or a goal to reach. But in lived experience, it is something far simpler and far more demanding than that. Self-love is a relationship. It is the longest and most intimate relationship you will ever have. It is with you every day, through everything. There is no stepping away from it, no pause button, no clean slate on a Monday morning. Like any relationship, it is shaped by how you listen, how present you are...

The Bhagavad Gita is an ancient Indian text, yet it speaks to very ordinary human experiences. At its heart, the Gita is a conversation. A human being is facing a situation that feels impossible, and he doesn’t know how to act without betraying himself. He turns to a trusted guide and asks, quite simply, “What am I supposed to do?” That question is the doorway into the whole book.

Motherhood is so often spoken about in terms of love, devotion, and sacrifice. And all of that is true. But it is also incomplete. Because motherhood is not only tenderness. It is endurance. It is vigilance. It is the long, quiet work of holding; physically, emotionally, invisibly - and often without pause or witness. Mothers carry a lot. In their hearts, hands and shoulders. They carry worry and responsibility, mental lists and emotional weather. They carry the unspoken nee

This week in sangha we explored Ishvara Pranidhana, the practice of surrender. Our conversation moved into experiences of flow, connection, and those moments when effort softens and something else seems to carry us. We reflected on how safety, presence, and trust can open unexpected doorways, revealing versions of ourselves that emerge when we let go rather than try harder.

The edges of the day hold quiet power. In this post, I share why small, repeatable morning and evening rituals matter, and introduce two new videos offering gentle practices for beginning and ending the day with more presence and care.

In some corners of modern spirituality, the ego has become a kind of villain. Something to overcome, dissolve, silence, or eradicate. If you’ve ever heard phrases like “ego death” or “living beyond the ego”, you’ll know the tone - as if the ego were a flaw in our design rather than a part of it. Yoga tells a quieter, more compassionate story. In yogic philosophy, the ego is not a monster to be slain. It is a function of the mind - necessary, human, and profoundly shaped by ex

This year, I read more than seventy books ,fiction and non-fiction, and each one left something behind. Some offered language. Some softened me. Some unsettled me in ways that later felt essential. What follows isn’t a comprehensive list, but a shortlist of books that will stay with me forever. These are the ones that didn’t just inform me, but worked on me - shaping how I think, how I teach, and how I hold space.

Each year, I take time to reflect on my work - not as an exercise in productivity or performance, but as a practice of honest listening. I look back at what worked well, what didn’t, and the growth I may not have fully recognised in the moment. This part of my reflection isn’t about failure. It’s about noticing friction - the moments where something felt slightly out of alignment, or where my body quietly asked for a boundary sooner.

Each year, I take time to reflect on my work - not as an exercise in productivity or performance, but as a practice of honest listening. I look back at what worked well, what didn’t, and the growth I may not have fully recognised in the moment. These reflections help me discern what wants to be carried forward, and what is ready to be released. They shape how I plan for the year ahead - not through rigid goals, but through intention, attention, and care. This year I truly beg

If things feel a bit much, you’re not doing it wrong. When the pressure to get it right creeps in, pause. Take one slow breath, soften the body, and come back to what matters — presence over presents, connection over perfection.

Theme: The Practice of Tapas: The Sacred Fire of Commitment This week in our Sangha, we introduced Tapas — one of the niyamas, and a teaching that speaks to inner fire, steady devotion, and the courage to stay present with what truly matters. Tapas is often translated as discipline or effort, but it’s not the harsh, punishing kind we might associate with pushing or forcing. As Deborah Adele writes in The Yamas and Niyamas, Tapas is the heat that refines — the steady warmth t

Every year, around the soft in-between days of December — usually somewhere near the 30th — I choose a word. I don’t make a vision board. I don’t set grand resolutions. I listen. I sit with a notebook, a cup of something warm, and the question: What quality do I want to walk beside me this year? Not what do I want to achieve — but how do I want to move through what comes. For 2025, the word that rose, steady and unmistakable, was 'discernment'. At the time, I didn’t fully und

Saucha is often translated as purity or cleanliness, but as Deborah Adele reminds us in The Yamas and Niyamas, this isn’t about striving for perfection or rigid order. It’s about cultivating the kind of inner and outer environment that allows energy, breath, and inspiration to move freely through us.

As autumn deepens and the veil between worlds thins, the energy of Samhain drifts through the air — quiet, reflective, and edged with mystery. The harvest has been gathered; the fields lie bare. Nature herself exhales, releasing what has completed its cycle. The trees surrender their leaves without resistance, trusting that this falling away is part of a larger rhythm.