Unity Yoga

I opened an old box today.

Inside were concert tickets, backstage passes, after-show passes, stickers, handwritten setlists, autographs, old photographs—twenty-something years of tiny artifacts from a life I had almost forgotten I lived.

And I had this strange realization:

She was there the whole time.

We talk so much about becoming.

Becoming stronger.
Becoming wiser.
Becoming more ourselves.

But I wonder how much of healing isn’t becoming at all.

Maybe some of it is remembering.

Remembering what delighted us before we learned to be practical.
What made us curious before we became busy.
What we moved toward before we started organizing our lives around everyone else.

The things in that box weren’t particularly valuable. Old stickers. Paper wristbands. Ticket stubs from venues that probably don’t exist anymore.

But somehow I kept them.

And today they felt like breadcrumbs.

There I am.
There I am.
Oh—there I am too.

Not every version of ourselves needs to come with us.

But sometimes the parts we think we’ve lost haven’t actually gone anywhere.

They’ve just gotten quiet.

And sometimes healing looks less like creating a new self and more like making enough room for an old, beloved part of ourselves to come back into the room.

Maybe that’s part of practice, too.

Not always becoming.

Remembering.

A photo from Morocco because apparently the path to therapeutic yoga sometimes includes crossing an ocean. ✈️🌿

Our 300-Hour Therapeutic Yoga Training is for people who want to understand what happens when movement, breath, nervous system regulation, and the art of holding space begin talking to each other.

How do we use movement to create more capacity in the body?
How does breath support regulation without becoming another thing to “get right”?
How do we create conditions where healing might actually happen—without trying to force it?

This training lives in those questions.

And a little reminder: you do NOT need a 200-hour yoga teacher training to apply. You don’t need to arrive knowing all the things. That’s why we’re here. We teach you. 😉

Therapists, clinicians, yoga teachers, healthcare professionals, space-holders, curious humans—if you’re interested in the intersection of body, nervous system, movement, breath, and healing, there may be a seat here for you.

Our next 300-hour begins this September. We have a couple of spaces remaining, and applications close August 31.

Reach out. Ask us questions. Come talk to us.

We’d love to see if it’s the right fit. 🤍

I was chatting with a student after class recently—catching them up on my life, hearing about school and everything unfolding in theirs.

And somewhere in the conversation, I heard myself talking about the studio differently.

We talk a lot about Unity as a place where you can come as you are. A place to land. To move. To breathe. To be held by something larger than yourself.

But I realized: it’s that place for me, too.

This last year has asked a lot of me. And through all of it, I’ve gotten to keep walking through these doors and showing up more and more as myself.

Not just as the person who owns the studio.
Not just as the teacher or therapist or person holding the container.

As me.

This space and this community have witnessed me changing, grieving, laughing, creating, figuring things out, and becoming.

And they’ve made room for all of it.

I think sometimes when you build the refuge, you forget that you’re allowed to take refuge there, too.

So yes—

The studio is your happy place.
The studio is my happy place, too.

And what a beautiful thing we’ve made for each other. 🤍

There is something deeply restorative about stepping outside the rhythm of everyday life for a little while.

This weekend was time spent learning, practicing, laughing, resting, and being in community with Yoli, Ruthann, and a beautiful group of humans — some familiar, some newly becoming friends.

And maybe that’s part of what refuge is.

Not an escape from our lives, but a place we can step into long enough to hear ourselves again.

Retreat gives us a little distance from the constant movement of work, family, responsibilities, phones, schedules, and all the tiny things asking for our attention. It gives the nervous system a little more space. It lets us notice how we move through a room, how we relate to one another, what we’re carrying, and what perhaps doesn’t need to come home with us.

Sometimes recalibration happens through profound teachings.

Sometimes it happens while sitting around talking.

Sometimes over a meal, walking somewhere together, helping clean up, making a new friend, or simply having enough time that nobody needs to rush toward the next thing.

We talk a lot at Unity about practice, but practice also needs refuge. Space away. Time to integrate. Places where we can soften our grip on ordinary life for a moment and return to it a little differently.

Very grateful for the teachers, friendships, laughter, spaciousness, and refuge of this weekend.

And grateful to come home carrying a little less — and noticing a little more.

The Appalachians do not ask you to become someone new.

They simply invite you to remember who you are.

To wake to cool mountain air and hear laughter drifting through the trees as you wander toward breakfast. To move your body beneath some of the oldest mountains on Earth. To rest in a hammock without needing to earn it. To be serenaded by singing bowls as the day softens around you. To gather in the evenings where devotion feels less like striving and more like coming home to yourself.

We created River Mountain for the people who spend so much of their lives holding everyone else.

The caregivers.
The helpers.
The ones who are always thinking three steps ahead.

For one long weekend, you don’t have to be the one carrying it all.

You simply have to arrive.

There is something about these ancient ridgelines. They have watched generations come and go, and still they whisper the same invitation:

Come. Rest. Belong.

This is River Mountain.

A weekend of movement, nature, community, celebration, and remembering that healing doesn’t always happen through doing. Sometimes it happens because you finally feel safe enough to simply be.

🍂 October 22–25
🌿 Registration is open now and closes September 22.

The mountains have been waiting.

We hope you’ll let them welcome you.

We’ve spent a lot of time talking about community.

Lately, we’ve been wondering if the word we’re really looking for is ecosystem.

An ecosystem isn’t defined by the individuals within it.

It’s defined by the relationships between them.

🌿

The conversations after class.

The teacher who inspires another teacher.

The therapist who finds language for a client.

The student who reminds all of us what courage looks like.

The roots beneath the surface, quietly nourishing one another.

At Unity, we aren’t just cultivating strong bodies or calm nervous systems.

We’re cultivating the conditions for aliveness to emerge—in ourselves, and in relationship with one another.

Because healing doesn’t happen in isolation.

Growth doesn’t happen in isolation.

And neither does belonging.

We’re all shaped by the quality of the relationships we’re part of.

Welcome to the Unity Ecosystem.

Let’s help one another come alive.

There was a moment today when I looked around the room and realized…

This wasn’t really about continuing education.

Yes, we talked about the nervous system. We practiced grounding, breath, and regulation. We explored what activation feels like in our own bodies.

But somewhere along the way, something else happened.

The room started talking to each other.

Experienced therapists shared stories with newer clinicians. People reflected. They laughed. They asked thoughtful questions. They exchanged phone numbers before they left.

For a few hours, it felt less like a lecture and more like a community.

As someone who spends a lot of time thinking about nervous systems, it made me wonder if connection isn’t just the outcome of regulation—it might also be one of the practices.

Today also reminded me that building something new is an exercise in humility.

Some things worked exactly as I hoped. Other things didn’t. Three hours was probably too long. An hour of meditation is too much for most people. Those are valuable lessons, and they’ll make the next workshop even better.

That’s the gift of a first attempt.

Not perfection.

Information.

So today, I’m grateful.

Grateful for six people who trusted a brand-new continuing education program.

Grateful for the conversations that happened after the slides were over.

Grateful that Unity continues to become the kind of place where helping professionals can gather—not just to earn credits, but to feel connected, supported, and reminded that they have nervous systems too.

On to the next one.

The Regulated Session is coming in August, and I already can’t wait to build it.

💛

The Regulated Practice ✨

With our very first CE event almost sold out, we figured it was time to share what’s coming next.

We’re so excited to welcome clinicians into our Learning Nest on the third floor in Manayunk for The Regulated Practice—a continuing education series designed to help you cultivate more regulation in yourself, your therapy room, and your clinical work.

These workshops blend nervous system education with experiential practice because we believe the best interventions aren’t just understood—they’re embodied.

🪺 Upcoming CEs
• July 28 – The Regulated Therapist
• August 25 – The Regulated Session
• September 29 – Beyond Talk Therapy
• October 30 – Burnout, Compassion Fatigue & Vicarious Trauma

Whether you’re a therapist, social worker, counselor, psychologist, or simply someone passionate about nervous system-informed care, we’d love to learn alongside you.

Save the dates now—we can’t wait to gather in the Learning Nest. 🤍

This is the most personal thing I’ve written in a long time.

I thought I was writing about concerts.

I ended up writing about the origin of Unity.

About community.
About wonder.
About the versions of ourselves we don’t lose—we simply forget for a while.

It feels vulnerable to share.

It also feels true.

If you read it, I’d love to know what memories or feelings it stirs up for you.

🤍 Link in bio.