"The world is wild I know 

Women are dying every week, and others put on a show 

My heart breaks

My voice shakes 

The only thing I can control 

is creating safety within my soul 

So I pause 

I breathe

Trying to remember the practices to help 

That I believe 

In moments of unbearable tension

I cannot remember those lessons 

So I yell 

I stomp 

I scream 

Releasing the emotion 

I do not care if I'm seen

The world is fucked I know 

Over 30 Australian women died this year alone 

Many of them by men they knew, and others in senseless hatred of women they didn't even know

1 in 4 women, that's how many of us experience domestic violence in our lifetime 

As you can see, this is so much more than a rhyme 

This is real life; it was my life 

Climbing out of the deep dark hole of domestic violence and depression that...

Its crucial that the woman in our community know that there are options if they are in an relationship that is psychologically, financially, verbally, emotionally, and/or physically abusive.

Domestic and family violence still remains a hidden secret to many. Its a silent epidemic that often goes noticed until it is way too late, with one woman killed every single week.

Behind every single nightmare of a headline, there are thousand of incidents of domestic and family violence that still goes unreported, which in turn impacts lives in way we often can not even imagine.

This is why we are reaching out to the community today, as this month is Domestic & Family Violence awareness month.

We have partnered with our beautiful friends at The Haven, a woman's and children's shelter in Penrith, to raise funds for all those who are impacted and seek refuge there.

It provides crisis accommodation and support for women and children escaping domestic and...

Trigger warning: This newsletter discusses a conversation with someone after loosing their child. Please be mindful if you continue to read the words below.

Three weeks ago I had an exceptionally difficult conversation. One that I only feel ready to write about now.

My partner and I took our two daughters to their first celebration of life, for their second cousin, just shy of two years old.

Amidst the heavy sorrow as we listened to all of her favourite Emma Wiggle songs, I knew I would eventually need to have my turn to give my love and support to the parents in person too.

And I will admit something I am not super proud of. I was avoiding them. Knowing that when our paths crossed at the wake, I would just burst into tears yet again. I felt selfish. "Did they really need to see another person crying to them about their own incredible loss? Did I just not want to see them because I just couldn't handle the conversation? What would they say? What does...

We love story telling, which is more often than not inspired by being amongst the energy of our beautiful community most days of the week these school holidays and week 2 of croup however has me sitting here on my fold out couch hiding from my family for 90 minutes (baby daddy knows where I am, but the kiddies, they do not!) more inspired to update to you on some important upcoming dates within Nin Yoga instead (story telling takes a lot of brain power. Brain power that doesn't always show up on demand).

So, to begin with the update, we have our bread and our butter, our weekly classes, every day, several times a day. These can sometimes change but generally stay the same.

Not regularly stalking our Mindbody profile? Here is the go as of today:

Messenger

"My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever."

- Mary Oliver

Learning why Denmark is one of the happiest countries in the world, as well as watching the latest episode of Bluey (they didn't sell, PHEW!), brought me back to this poem 

Let us remember...

I'll be completely honest with you...

When I first decided I wanted to enter the realm of teaching, I assumed that all teachers were masters of what they shared with their students, effortlessly guiding others with the wisdom and grace that I so badly wanted to embody myself.

My sudden and random passion for circus arts began in my early twenties.

Despite never setting foot on the stage within any kind of big top, I emptied my wallet for the thrill of learning these new skills. Night after night, I attended classes and workshops across Sydney, eagerly soaking up as much as I could, determined to embody these teachers and performers I so adored and looked up to.

Eventually, I mustered up the courage to share my skills with others, assuming this would be a shortcut to joining some sort of circus troupe one day. I vividly remember sitting in the office of my management job, scrolling on Gumtree, and coming across a wanted ad for flying...

I once handed a DL Flyer for a voluntourism trip to Ghana to give to my dad while I was in my first year of uni.

The pamphlet, however, was a total fake, designed just so I could get over in a way that seemed legit, when really I was going to meet a guy I have only ever chatted with via email.

Who I was chatting to was an orphan himself, wanting to now start a foundation in his local village. Foreigners would be invited (and I assumed picked at random?) to come over to lend a hand.

I got my flight sponsored to get me there (which I later found out was booked with stolen credit card details, ahhhhhhhh I promise I had no idea), and flew in alone.

Armed with nothing but melting Tim Tams and a whole lot of stationary to donate to the community, I set off on a journey that would change my life forever. I flew halfway across the world to a place that seemed almost unreal until I touched down.

I was on a mission to find a "Jamal". As I...

Last week, I put on my big girl high-waisted yoga flares and asked you for feedback on Nin Yoga.

(also, don't ever look up GIFS for yoga pants; they are much more sinister than I was expecting )

Many of your responses to our feedback form were soothing to the soul, offering us valuable insights, suggestions, and even a few laughs.

However, as I delved into this feedback, I grappled with what Brene Brown famously once called a "vulnerability hangover."

"It's the feeling that sweeps over us after we feel the need to connect and share something deeply meaningful. Minutes, hours, or days later, we begin to feel regret sweep over us like a warm wave of nausea."

I hadn't asked for feedback in ages, and I realized that I was possibly avoiding this feeling; it took me a solid moment to sit with myself after reading both good and not-so-good feedback to acknowledge this.

And when we receive less-than-good feedback, the easy option is...

Fun Fact:

Nin Yoga is a yoga studio.

Yoga studios are businesses.

And for a business to do better and be better in this world, we need to listen to those we are trying their best to serve in the first place.

YOU.

And what better way to find out what you think of us than with the classic online feedback form?

Unfortunately, I'm not creative enough to make it sound even remotely exciting.

I can, however, promise you we will do something exciting with the information 

Anyone is welcome to fill in this form.

New, old, or current students.

We would really appreciate it and I personally promise to read every single reply. If we notice trends, we will even start to pivot accordingly.

Change is the essence of life. We need to be open to receiving feedback, for it is through gentle adjustments and shifts that we find balance and growth in this yoga studio, in this yoga practice, and...

One morning
we will wake up
and forget to build
that wall we’ve been building,
the one between us
the one we’ve been building
for years, perhaps
out of some sense
of right and boundary,
perhaps out of habit.
 
One morning
we will wake up
and let our empty hands
hang empty at our sides.
Perhaps they will rise,
as empty things
sometimes do
when blown
by the wind.
Perhaps they simply
will not remember
how to grasp, how to rage.
 
We will wake up
that morning
and we will have
misplaced all our theories
about why and how
and who did what
to whom, we will have mislaid
all our timelines
of when and plans of what
and we will not scramble
to write the plans and theories anew.
 
On that morning,
not much else
will have changed.
Whatever is blooming
will still be in bloom.
Whatever is wilting
will wilt. There will be fields
to plow and trains
to load and children
to feed and work to do.
And in every moment,
in every action, we will
feel the urge to say thank you,
we will follow the urge to bow.

- Rosemerry...