As I start this writing, I can’t help but hear Jimmy Buffet’s “mother mother ocean” in my head from his classic tune, A Pirate looks at 40. Here is a version to listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1o0Oft05oFE&list=RD1o0Oft05oFE&start_radio=1

Ah, 40. My 40th year is when my true yoga journey began. I had been practicing yoga consistently with my teacher Tim Brusso through the local recreation department. Though I initially started yoga (forever grateful to Colleen West Coates for bringing me to my first class) to reduce running injuries, practicing yoga became much more than that. It was my quiet time and my “me time”. The time I spent actually taking care of myself; my own body, mind, and spirit. This small step sent me on a very different journey. This month and this year marks my 20-year anniversary as a yoga teacher and almost 40 years as a nurse. Can this be so? I still feel too young for this to be true.

To my 40-year-old self, I have these words:


Thank you for saying YES when Tim asked if you would consider yoga teacher training and help him teach. Thank you for trusting in the path of yoga, even when your life was busy and full with family, friends, a career and marathon running. Thank you for making small bold steps on a path you did not even know was calling you. Your commitment to growth inspires me today. Thank you for making life-long friends while on the sidelines of the soccer field. Thank you for finding my moon sisters. Thank you for waking up early to get on your mat every day; for your diligence with learning Sanskrit and becoming more actively involved in your spiritual journey. Thank you for looking beyond the religion you grew up with to see how all religions are about love and unity.

To my 60-year-old self, I have these words:


Cheers to you! I am so glad that you continue to chase dreams and step out of your comfort zone on a regular basis. You have taken risks, remarried a wonderful man, traveled to many countries, climbed big mountains, and remained true to who you are. Even though your body is changing and the years are showing in the mirror, you continue your practice of getting on your mat; even if it is no longer EVERY day.

Thank you for letting go of old ideas of what it means to be healthy. Thank you for letting go of things along the way that no longer serve you, like running marathons. I am glad that you are beginning to release the “shoulds” of your life with resolve. I commend you for embracing the extra 10 pounds, the limitations in your schedule, and for saying yes to what scares you. You have started new chapters of life without any guarantees that it will work. You celebrate and cherish your husband, your daughters, and your friends of many decades. You have managed many losses, including both parents and other loved ones. Thank you for not allowing losses to become obstacles to new friends and new beginnings. Thank you for the LOLs and for meeting the challenges of life without selling out on your beliefs. Thank you for your commitment to bringing yoga to many people in many places and in the company of many other wonderful teachers.

Thank you for planting seeds for the abundance and beauty I can see around me today.

To my 80-year-old self, I have these words:

I hope you are still rolling out your mat (or doing yoga in a chair) on a regular basis while listening diligently to the angels around you. I hope that the losses you have endured haven’t dampened your zest for life and love. There will be losses.
I hope that you are still spending time outdoors every day. I hope your time with family and friends remains the highlight of your existence. I envision you taking long walks with Jerry in beautiful landscapes and shorter walks in the back yard too. I hope you fulfill the dream of taking morning swims in beautiful places wearing a bikini with pride; yes a bikini. I hope you are telling and writing stories, saying prayers aloud, growing plants, reading books and making new friends. I hope you spend entire days just puttering.

May you continue to relinquish what doesn’t call you by name or bring you joy.


I hope your slower pace gives you satisfaction and happiness without judging. I hope you are sharing meals with friends, dancing in the kitchen, digging in the dirt, baking chocolate chip cookies, drinking fine wine and spending time with people you love.

I hope you are happy.