I've always known how to push. Learning to soften has taken me much longer.

Chinese medicine has words for this: yin and yang. The words first described the two sides of a hill. Yin was the shady side. Yang was the sunny side. Same hill, different light.

Yang is fire. Doing, pushing, producing, fixing. Yin is water. Resting, receiving, softening, flowing. They're two halves of one whole, and we feel our best when they're in balance.

I lived on the sunny side of that hill for a long time, so tightly wound in a yang-dominated state. When I discovered ball therapy as a healing modality, it felt like a long drink of water after years in the sun. Think of it as a deep but gentle massage. My body was hungry for that kind of slow, steady pressure. It helped change how I live every day, and it's why I do this work.

We take roughly 20,000 breaths a day. What if most of them are only doing half the job?

Most of us never think to question it. But there's a good chance our breath has been selling us short.

Three years ago, I suffered a brainstem stroke—an ischemic blood clot in the pons, a small but critical region of the brainstem.

It affected my entire right side: my mobility, my resting heart rate, and my nervous system.

Through neuroplasticity, I regained movement faster than anyone expected. From the outside, it looked like a remarkable recovery.

The thoracic spine sits at the crossroads of breath, posture, fascia, and stress, which is why stiffness here can feel physical and emotional.

Improving thoracic mobility is like opening a window in a stuffy room—you don’t realize how much you needed the fresh air until it rushes in.

My symptoms started with numbness on the right side of my face, then my arm, then leg - I could barely walk. And—yes, still cringing about this—I drove myself to the ER. I literally hobbled in, thinking I was just being overly cautious. At the time, I was staying with my 88-year-old mom in New Jersey, while Matt was back home in Dallas.

Like many people, I assumed yoga would "fix" my back pain. And in many ways, it's helped. But I started to notice that some aspects of a typical Vinyasa class — fast transitions, repetitive forward folds, deep backbends — were actually aggravating my symptoms.

In February, we became grandparents, and sweet Baby Miller has already taught us more than we could’ve imagined. About a month in, though, something felt very off with him. He was rarely comfortable—his body felt stiff, feedings were a legitimate struggle because he couldn't latch properly, and he had colic. The only time he was calm was when he was sleeping. It was stressful to watch, especially for Caroline and Adam.