Snowbells quietly emerge beneath the hedge, lifting hope from hard winter ground. Winter is hard. It always is. No matter how long you have been teaching, winter asks more from you. It does not care whether you start early in the morning or finish late at night. The season feels heavier, and teaching feels slightly harder to manage across the whole day. Morning sessions arrive with cold bodies and slower systems. You walk into the studio knowing the warm-up will take longer t

A Joyful holiday message filled with light, warmth, and space to pause and breathe. Today is the 23rd of December. It is our last teaching day. We finish classes today. Live and Online Pilates classes are done. Pantomime is finished. The pace changes. Suddenly. And honestly, it feels welcome. Between now and January the 5th, the calendar opens up. Fewer alarms. Fewer deadlines. More quiet. In many countries, the world softens for a short while. Streets slow down. Expectations

Falling asleep mid chapter, fully dressed, body choosing rest before the mind finishes. Soulful Sunday usually gives us a pause before the week starts. This week feels different. Christmas sits right in front of us. For many, it means time off. For us, there are still two teaching days left. Monday online. Tuesday live. Then we stop. The body knows this. The mind argues anyway. Learning to rest without guilt sounds simple. It is not. Rest often feels earned only after exhaust

Festive comfort invites stillness. Mobility keeps the body from stiffening during long evenings indoors Mobility has been on my mind this week. Not the dramatic kind. No deep stretches. No heroic routines. Just the quiet stuff we stop doing when the weather turns cold and the chairs get softer. Christmas week is strange for the body. You sit more. You eat more. You move less. Then you wonder why everything feels stiff, heavy, and uncooperative. It is not the food alone. It is

Warm wool socks resting on cold stone flooring, highlighting contrast between comfort and winter chill. This weekend I am teaching in Italy. Beautiful place. Built for summer. In winter, it tells a different story. Many places close. Spaces empty. The hotel looks polished and light, but the first thing I noticed was the floor. Stone. Cold. No rugs. No carpet. Perfect in August. Brutal in December. Standing there first thing in the morning, cold came straight up through my fee