I've been described as a "yogini with some serious chops -- a wholehearted devotee who walks in the world precisely as she teaches". 

Life is so much more than what fits in an official “bio” (though, you will find that below if you like).

I’m not your typical yogi. Not your typical anything, really. I’m not a hippie, not a pose junkie, not really into woo-woo. I’m into the here and now, how yoga is in the real world, how we integrate our ancestral roots, and our spiritual upbringing (or lack there of) into the day to day.

I sit at “normal” events like concerts and sports games and I look for the elements (earth, water, fire, air, ether) in people to describe them. I watch how they move and listen to how their bodies tell me their story - not their voices.

I love getting the flu because it’s the best cleanse, and when my body has to take a back seat to my heart and intuition, that’s when things really get good.


I don’t think there are bad people and I don’t think bad things happen.

I think everything and everyone helps us to evolve if we ask ourselves the simple question, “How can this help me grow?”

I used to smash up pieces of white bread to make the “eucharist” and pretend I was the priest offering communion. (Did I really just tell you that?)  I wanted to either be the Pope or a gymnast... but I’m 5’10” so gymnast is out...

I have always wanted to live in a church.

I thought it’d be the coolest thing ever... To renovate an old one — but instead, when I designed Deva Daaru Yoga Farm, I just put church windows in the attic, so I could check that off my "karmic checklist".

I’ve thought about shaving my head many times, not because I want to renounce everything, but because hair, especially my hair, is a complete nuisance and I am obviously attached to it... so maybe I ought to just get over myself and get on with the head shaving.

I have often wanted to start a clothing line with seven colors -- one hip, monochromatic outfit for each day of the week (dictated by the planet that governs each day according to yogic astrology) and then never have to think about what to wear again.

I’ve slept alone in a ten foot square space in the forest of rural Mexico for days and nights with a wool blanket, a sheep skin, and a feather — foregoing all food and water: This time alone, away, and under the moon has become my refuge. I do it every year.

When I was little I had two imaginary friends: One was named Ramona and she had red wiry curly hair. The other was named Halloween, and he was a slight framed Asian boy with a bowl cut. I don’t remember him saying much.