For many of us, the answer does not come through a lightning bolt moment of clarity. Instead, it reveals itself slowly, almost invisibly, through the unfolding of our lives, the experiences we move through, the challenges we are asked to navigate, and the ways in which we respond to those moments.
What I have come to realize over time is that finding our path often requires a shift away from a fear based mindset and toward a curious one. Fear tells us to stay in line, to follow the plan that already exists, to make decisions that are safe and predictable. Curiosity invites something different. It allows us to explore, to question, and to consider the possibility that the life we are meant to live may be somewhat unexpected and uncharted.
And that shift, from fear to curiosity, is not just philosophical. It is physiological. It lives in the nervous system.
Much of the work I do with prenatal and postnatal mothers sits right at the intersection between the physical body and the deeper layers of conditioning that women carry. In our culture, women are taught a long list of messages that shape the way they move through the world. Hold it in. Take up less space. Keep your body tight. Do it all. Be everything to everyone. Take care of everyone else before you take care of yourself. Over time those messages do not just live in our thoughts, they become embodied patterns. The shoulders round forward and are constantly tight. The breath becomes shallow. The pelvic floor grips. The nervous system learns to live in a subtle but persistent state of vigilance.
So when I guide women, whether they are pregnant, postpartum, or simply navigating a major life transition, the work is rarely just about movement or exercise. It is about unwinding conditioning. It is about helping the body release the physical patterns of holding tight the muscles that send a threat message to the brain. When the muscles associated with fight or flight begin to soften and the breath starts moving more fully through the body, the nervous system receives an entirely new message: you are safe here. When we feel safe, the body shifts out of survival mode and into a state of regulation and repair. In that state, the systems responsible for healing, digestion, hormone balance, and clear thinking can begin to function more efficiently again. Providing the body with this kind of release creates more spaciousness, both physically and mentally, and within that space new ways of thinking, new perspectives, and new possibilities can begin to emerge.
In many ways, that is what healing looks like.
The interesting thing is that I never set out to become a healer.
If you had asked me years ago what I would be doing at this stage in my life, this probably would not have been the answer I gave you. Sometimes I wonder whether the work I do now is something that unfolded because of the way my life has evolved, or whether it was always a path I was meant to walk.
Was it the fact that I have always been an empathetic person who naturally wanted to help people? Or was it the fact that when I was thirteen my family went through a dramatic shift that changed the trajectory of my life?
Starting around that age I began building what I now understand as a toolkit of self care and nervous system regulation practices that helped me support myself through stress and uncertainty. At the time I did not realize that these practices would one day become the foundation of the work I would offer to others. I was simply doing what I needed to do to stay grounded.
Maybe those experiences are what ultimately led me to where I am now.
At 45, I feel a deep pull to make sure people understand something important. When challenges rise up in life, when circumstances change, and when we find ourselves navigating something we never planned for, shifting our mindset and finding resilience within ourselves is absolutely possible.
What is ironic is that for a long time I tried to reject the path I am on now.
When I took my yoga teacher training in 2011 it was simply to deepen my personal practice, not to teach. The idea of standing in front of a room and guiding other people was terrifying to me. I had always been a somewhat shy person and I did not think of myself as a leader.
But once the training ended I felt pulled to teach, and I knew that if I did not at least try it would become something I regretted for the rest of my life.
The first two years I taught yoga I was absolutely terrified. I would walk into a class with my heart racing, feeling like an imposter who had somehow ended up at the front of the room. Before beginning, I would take a deep breath and quietly remind myself that if I could project confidence, people would trust me as the guide in that space. At the same time, I was aware of something important: most of the time we grow into things by showing up before we feel completely ready. By continuing to step into that role and projecting confidence on the outside, even when I did not fully feel it on the inside, the real confidence in my ability slowly began to take root.
When I became pregnant I had no intention of teaching prenatal yoga, but a studio owner asked me if I would take over a prenatal class. My first response was no. It felt outside of my comfort zone. My own prenatal yoga teacher encouraged me and told me that I could do it, so I decided to take another leap.
Later, when my family moved from San Francisco to Marin, I assumed that chapter of my life was probably over. I thought there would be a plethora of prenatal teachers in the area and that I would simply step away from teaching.
Another moment of serendipity came during my first week in San Rafael. I went to a playground and met a fellow yoga teacher. When she learned that I taught prenatal yoga, she encouraged me to reach out to the owner of Metta Yoga, explaining that she was needing more prenatal teachers. It was one of those moments where the universe seemed to quietly nudge me in the right direction.
So I started teaching prenatal yoga again.
Soon after that Amy, the owner of Metta Yoga Studio, asked if I would help her create a yoga studio specifically designed for new and expecting mothers. Again I said no. At the time I had a son in preschool and a daughter in transitional kindergarten and we were still getting established in a new place. The idea of taking on a major project felt overwhelming.
Amy gently encouraged me to help guide the process, and before I really realized what was happening I was working fifteen hours a week helping build this new studio and stepping into the role of director of Metta Mama.
Looking back it is almost funny to see how many times I tried to say no to this path, and yet the path kept finding me anyway.
And then the next step was cancer.
That was certainly not something I planned or wanted, but even that experience has become part of the work I now do. Moving through illness has deepened my understanding of the nervous system, resilience, and the ways our bodies hold stress, as well as how we can make room for healing. It has also reinforced something I believe deeply, which is that even when life brings incredibly difficult experiences, it is still possible to reconnect with our strength and to support others who are walking their own challenging paths.
So was I always meant to do this work?
Sometimes it feels like the universe has been gently directing me here all along.
For the first time in my life I truly feel like I have found my calling. When I meet other women who are working in this female centered healing space I feel a deep sense of kinship and community. There is something incredibly meaningful about gathering in spaces where women are supporting each other, sharing experiences, and reconnecting with their bodies.
It feels like exactly what I have always been meant to do. I hear from people how much they appreciate the way I bring science and soul together in my teaching, my coaching, and my workshops. My heart is deeply aligned with this work, and in my bones I feel that this is exactly what I am supposed to be doing. There is a sense of clarity and fulfillment that I have never experienced before, and it feels like I have truly found my calling.
So how does one find their path?
Sometimes we have to stop trying so hard to figure it out and instead allow ourselves to listen. Quiet the mind for a while. Step away from the constant noise of expectations and outside opinions. Create enough internal space that we can hear what life might be gently trying to tell us.
One practice that can help create this clarity is heart coherence meditation.
Heart coherence is a physiological state in which the rhythms of the heart, breath, and nervous system become synchronized. When we breathe slowly and bring our attention to the heart while cultivating a higher frequency emotion like joy, gratitude, love, the nervous system shifts toward parasympathetic activation, the state associated with rest, healing, and regulation.
From a scientific perspective this practice increases heart rate variability, which is one of the most important markers of nervous system resilience. Higher heart rate variability means the nervous system is more flexible and better able to move between stress and relaxation without getting stuck in chronic survival mode.
What is particularly fascinating is that the heart actually sends more signals to the brain than the brain sends to the heart. When we create coherent rhythms in the heart through slow breathing and positive emotional states, those signals travel through the vagus nerve and influence areas of the brain responsible for decision making, emotional processing, and perception.
In other words, when the heart and brain are communicating clearly, we often experience greater clarity, intuition, and emotional balance.
A simple version of this practice is to sit comfortably and place one hand over your heart. Begin breathing slowly through the nose, allowing the inhale and exhale to last about five seconds each. As you breathe, imagine the breath moving in and out through the heart center rather than just the lungs. Then bring to mind a person, place, or experience that evokes a feeling of love, joy, peace, or gratitude. Stay with that breath and that feeling for several minutes.
It is a simple practice, but its impact on the nervous system can be profound.
When the nervous system settles and the body moves out of survival mode, something important happens. We begin to hear our inner voice again. It is the voice that may have been drowned out by years of constant noise and the habit of doing instead of simply being. It may even be a voice you have ignored for so long that you forgot it was there. It is your heart-centered, authentic self, the part of you that exists beneath layers of societal pressure and expectations that we sometimes begin to mistake for our own.
Finding our path is rarely a straight line. Often it is a series of small leaps where curiosity gently wins over fear. If we can trust ourselves enough to integrate the experiences we have had, be brave enough to walk a path that may feel different or uncharted, and allow life to unfold without gripping too tightly to expectations, we may discover that we are not moving away from who we are.
We are simply returning to who were were always meant to be.
