Mellara

My newest piece on The Quiet Work is perhaps one of the more personal things I've shared.

I Know Who Stays is about abandonment, the ways old wounds can continue to speak through our adult lives, and the practice of learning not to abandon ourselves when they do.

I recorded myself reading the entire essay aloud as well. If listening feels more natural to you, my voice recording is at the top of the piece.

Read or listen below 🤍

I Know Who Stays — The Quiet Work

I Know Who Stays What an old wound taught me about being seen, being chosen, and no longer abandoning myself

Some wounds become understandable long before they stop being tender.

My newest Substack, I Know Who Stays, is about one of mine—abandonment—and the ways an old wound can quietly shape our need to be seen, chosen and understood, even decades later.

I used to think healing meant eventually becoming someone who wouldn’t feel these things anymore.

I don’t believe that now.

Maybe healing is noticing sooner.

Recognizing when an old story has entered a present moment. And learning not to leave ourselves while we wait for someone else to choose us.

This one is deeply personal, and perhaps one of the most honest things I’ve written.

I also recorded myself reading the entire essay aloud, so if you’d rather listen than read, my voice is there with it. 🤍

I Know Who Stays is now live on The Quiet Work on Substack.

Link in bio and 👇🏻
https://mellara.substack.com/p/i-know-who-stays

It’s been a few years since I’ve done one of these… and there are quite a few new faces here. So, hello. 👋🏻 I’m Mellara.

The last time I introduced myself here, I shared a lot about what I had done.

This time, I found myself thinking more about who I’ve become along the way.

A little girl from Australia. A young woman who moved to Los Angeles with very different plans. A mother and wife.

A yoga teacher who is still very much a student. A writer. And, increasingly, someone who believes that practice has much less to do with becoming someone better and much more to do with learning to stay present for the life already here.

So here are a few things about me — some you may know, and a few you probably don’t. lol

If you’ve been here for years, thank you. And if you’re new here, welcome. ❤️

I’m glad our paths crossed.

A new piece from The Quiet Work. 🤍

I’ve been thinking about devotion lately—not as something separate from everyday life, but as the way we meet what has been placed in our care.

Ourselves. Our people. Our communities. This beautiful planet.

Perhaps spirituality isn’t about becoming less human. Perhaps it’s about becoming more intimate with our humanity.

What Has Been Placed in Our Care�On devotion, spirituality, and the ordinary ways we love.

What Has Been Placed in Our Care On devotion, spirituality, and the ordinary ways we love

Some things in our lives ask to be accomplished.

Others simply ask to be cared for.

The people we love.

The homes we make.

The work we offer.

The bodies we live inside.

The small, ordinary responsibilities that rarely look spiritual from the outside.

I’ve been thinking about devotion lately—not as something separate from everyday life, but as the way we meet what has been placed in our care.

I wrote about this in my newest piece on Substack, What Has Been Placed in Our Care: On devotion, spirituality, and the ordinary ways we love.

A little more from The Quiet Work. 🤍
Link in bio. And here — mellara.substack.com

There are days when practice feels less like a sequence and more like a conversation.

A little movement.
A little pause.
A shift of weight.

An arm reaching because that’s where the body wants to go.

The wind was moving through everything this day — my hair, the trees, even the tablecloth behind me — and somehow my practice began to feel like part of that same movement.

Maybe the onesie helped too. 😂 My sister-in-law gave it to me, and it’s something I probably never would have bought for myself. And I feel ridiculously free in it! Apparently freedom has its limits, though, because going to the bathroom in a onesie is an entirely different practice lol.
so not choreographed. and not particularly concerned with what came next. Just me listening (inside)

We spend so much time being told what our bodies should do, how they should look, and what they should be capable of.

Practice can offer us something different.

A chance to listen before we instruct. To notice before we correct. To respond rather than override.

Sometimes the most meaningful part of practice begins when we stop asking the body to perform and start paying attention to what it has been saying all along. 🤍

For my Walnut Creek & Bay Area friends 🤍

This beautiful woman is my dear friend and fellow artist, Malihe

Many of you may also recognize her from retreats and from supporting me in my teaching over the years. But this weekend, we get to step into *her* world.

Mali is opening her studio in Walnut Creek and sharing her paintings — work created from her own hands, heart and life.

I believe so much in showing up for one another. Not only for the big moments, but for the things we quietly make, nurture and eventually find the courage to share.

This is community to me.

If you’re nearby, go see Mali, wander through her beautiful work, and say hello. I’m so happy to celebrate my friend. 🤍

**Open Studio — Saturday & Sunday, August 22 & 23
11 AM–5 PM
249 Sierra Drive, Walnut Creek**

I’ve been thinking about this lately—not only in yoga, but in life.

So much of our energy can go toward changing, improving, figuring out, or becoming. And of course, there are times when change is necessary.

But there are also moments when the practice is simply to stay. To notice what is here. To allow ourselves to be with our experience without immediately trying to make it different.

Sometimes nothing needs to be added.
Sometimes nothing needs to be fixed. 🤍

From my article “Still Practicing: When the Real Work Begins” for OM Yoga Magazine.

OM Yoga & Lifestyle

A little reminder that I’m writing over on Substack these days. 🤍

Sharing while Remembering Who We Are today — a reflection on getting older, awareness, and the part of us that somehow remains through all the changing seasons of our lives.

Come find me there if you’d like to read along.

Remembering Who We Are Welcome to Mellara’s Newsletter—a space for reflections on love, loss, acceptance, and the lifelong practice of remembering who we are.