A Reader Lives a Thousand Lives Before They Die 

A few weeks ago my eldest child returned home from school rather indignant. After throwing down their backpack with a loud sigh they recounted that, in their form-room that day, they had been asked to spend 20 minutes doing something mindful.

They’d immediately lit up, reaching inside their bag for the novel they were enveloped within the magic of. The teacher had not taken kindly to this and told them that to read was not to be mindful, and that they should do some colouring-in instead. I laughed as they told me how this had led to the entirely un-mindful, aggressive, colouring-in of a photocopied rose, all the time thinking about little more than how cross they were.

Escapism or Embodiment?

I mention this as it was what first got me thinking about books and reading relative to what it is I teach which, in the simplest terms, are practises for landing in the present moment.

I could, to some degree, see the teacher’s point… to read can be an escapism and is a form of arousal in a huge number of ways and forms. Reading can be a mechanism for escaping presence through embracing fantasy, other worlds and imaginary characters. But is it always an escape mechanism?

No. Is the answer to that. My answer, my opinion. I believe that, in the world as it is manifesting for most of us right now, to choose to slow down enough to read a book is a marker for, and route to build, an ability to be present. It is not about abandoning ourselves. Not usually. And even if it is, it can be both: a gentle escape, harmless to ourselves and the other, that can open us up to a mindful practise.

Of course I specifically talk, here, about reading an actual book.

We read continually, unconsciously… WhatsApp messages, flashing headings, notifications, the pithy captions underneath social media posts and the comments that they bring… that kind of thing. Endlessly. Quickly. Without stopping to to notice that we are reading at all. But we can read in a different way. And this is something I feel passionate about encouraging.

I set myself a target to read 100 books this year and I have no idea if I will make it. I’m not quite on track to, yet. But three months in, I am taking on a much more important quest for myself: to make my reading more mindful. And I would love for you to join me.

I am starting a Book Club. Late April. You can find out more about that here:


Wrapped Up In Books: The Story of My Life

Since early childhood, books have surrounded, stacked themselves up in, been central to, my life. Led by my nose in a book, I have been pulled forward on new paths. They have allowed me to feel the things I would otherwise not allow. They have expanded my mind when I felt stuck in old patterns of thought. They have given me hope. They have kept me company on sleepless nights. They are a reliable source of comfort.

With my current ‘to be read’ (or in the middle of reading in snippets) pile

Book Are Kinda My Thing… 

My memory has always told me that I never had to learn to read.

This, of course, cannot be the truth, but it is my truth.

I have an extremely vivid memory of being 6, in Blue class with Mrs Donnelly, and being called up with two friends to read to her. Puddle Lane books, anyone remember them? I adored.

Me and my two plait-adorning-pals skipped eagerly across the parquet floor to our teacher, who asked us to take it in turns to read sections of a rather enchanting tale called The Magic Dust.

As my friends sounded out words and screwed up their little freckled faces in concentration, I very clearly remember just not getting it. Why couldn’t they read it out properly? Fluently?

To me, and I did not think of their struggles with judgement, only utter confusion, it was as if I was watching people with fully functioning hands and arms being completely unable to clap.

Not only did I already find reading to be an innate skill but I truly loved to read, I loved it in a way that made my insides fizz. I was born knowing it was what I was meant to do with my time. Was it not the same for everyone? I found that odd as a kid. Perhaps a part of me still does.

By the time I was 8 or 9, as soon as school ended, I would run, gleefully, to Penn Library, with my friends Karis and Dipti, who loved books just as much as me.

We were huge fans of The Babysitters Club, and of Point Horror books. To find a book we had not yet read would be so cool and exciting and every time the librarian scanned a barcode with a beep it was like being offered an extremely precious gift.

Seducing The English Teachers

At secondary school I was resolutely determined to seduce (not sexually) every single English teacher with my love of their subject and my way with words. It worked!

By the time I was studying for my GCSEs, the teachers were so kind to me, bringing me in books they thought I might like to borrow. I liked this on more than one level. Books, beyond feeding my mind, began also to give me a taste of feeling truly valued and seen. I am aware of this as an attachment I have to books. It’s still there. I use them as an aphrodisiac in my, often clumsy, attempts to connect with other humans. This perseveres as a coping strategy, though, only because the love of books is so real.

When I was 15 or so one teacher, Mr Layton, brought Douglas Coupland into my life. Mr Layton shoved a copy of Generation X into my chest one day as he passed me on the stairs from the Geography department down to the school office.
‘I think you’ll like that…’ he said. I did. I loved. Douglas Coupland remains my favourite writer to this day.

The moment of my passing on the stairs with my teacher that day is like chance-found gold in my mind, each and very time that the memory is evoked. It was a moment of karma played out. He had to give me that book. That day. That he thought of me as he downed his morning coffee to soothe his aching head (he appeared to be resolute in his determination to turn up hungover and tired) meant the world to me on a day, in a time, I felt gloomy and uninspired. I read the book that night. Returning it to him only a day or two later with a letter of thanks and my mind alight with new ideas. I would, from that point on, practically camp out at the bookshop waiting for Douglas Coupland’s next novel.

At University I studied English and creative writing, and then, on graduating, got myself a job in publishing. The rest is herstory. I never once lost my passion for books. I married a writer. Of course. And we both, most days, buy and read books. My partner’s job means they get book post every day, too. As you may expect, my home is full of written words. Every room.

A wall in my living room, complete with old library ladder. One day I will have an actual library in my house.

You Don’t Even HAVE To Read Them!

Books have been my source of solace, of companionship, of laughter through all of my life so far. They are the way I most love to learn.

If I visit someone’s house, it is their books that I am most pulled to. A house without books lacks oxygen, to me.

And hey… if you never get around to reading them (my to be read pile is truly a mountain range…) all is not lost, as Nick Hornsby says:

“All the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal…With each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not.” – Nick Hornby

5 Books I Have Enjoyed This Year So Far…

If you want to practise mindful reading with others, including me, the registration to be told more about the Book Club is here. 

In the meantime, I am often asked for book recommendations so here you will find five of my favourites of 2022 so far.

Binge: 60 stories to make your brain feel different

Douglas Coupland always speaks to my soul, and these short stories really do make your brain flip and flop. Some are sweet, some are sad, all are mind expanding in some way.

Creation: A fully illustrated, panoramic world history of art from ancient civilisation to the present day

I’ll admit I have not read every word of this book but my eyes love it a whole lot. I find the writing gentle and it is a good book to grab if you want to build strength in your wrists (it’s SO heavy)…

Mothers: An Essay on Love and Cruelty

This book takes on a challenging topic in an extremely accessible, but nonetheless provocative, way. It took me a little while to land into reading, but once she mentioned Courtney Love relative to the image of the mother… I was all in.

Medieval Bodies: Life, Death and Art in the Middle Ages

Bloody fascinating. Check out the preview about the medieval cadaver. You will know right away if it’s a book for you. For me? It is a hard yes.

Cultish The Languish of Fanaticism

It’s a ‘young’ book in that, aged almost 40, I felt about 20 years too old to take as much as one could from this book in its tone and style, and the cultural references are largely American. But I loved reading it nonetheless. And I enjoyed that it opened up my thinking on the male ‘voice of God’ and how affecting that is to me, as a woman, and the influence it has had on my life. It also made me pause to consider how I talk as a teacher. How I use language to promote my class. How I use language to tell people how to move their bodies and breathe.

Swaying to stillness and the exquisite bliss of longing for…

Lovely humans,

I’ve been caught up in longing.

Longing – a “yearning, eager desire or craving,” It comes from the old English langung  a “…weariness, sadness, dejection…” but no definition gets it quite right, for me.

To sit in longing is an interesting space.

Longing for someone is entirely different to ‘missing’  them, in my awareness.

We ‘miss’ with our mind. Longing, it seems, is an experience that encompasses the entirety of our being.

I’ve been on a journey with being able to notice and name emotions. To name longing took time, “perhaps this is sadness?”  “feeling weak?”  “A curious and quite lovely type of pain?!” But knowing, in my reflection, it was something far more than my words managed to touch.

I like longing. Is that a strange statement to make? I believe that longing comes from an encounter with something magical enough that this (to me, peculiarly beautiful) emotion is evoked.

The universe we exist in places endless expectation on us to find and satisfy our hungers and desires as instantaneously as we possibly can. That the outcome is never, in the least bit, satisfying is what keeps us in a loop of consumption… be that of sugar, carbs, porn, fast-fashion or whatever lands on the doorstep in one of those too-familiar brown cardboard Amazon parcels.

Perhaps, I reflected, that is why to sit still, with longing, feels so unusual. So welcome. 

I find that sitting with longing, which can be considered a pretty melancholy emotion, is extremely lovely.

But why? Really? Can it be as simple as it being so at odds with a fast-paced, ever-scrolling, society that seeks reassurance from ‘buy now’ buttons and navigating Porn Hub with a well-trained thumb?

My love of longing feels like more than that. It feels like connecting to an entire new universe.

Swaying to stillness…

To long for something is to feel its lack. And to exist with longing is not easy.

In the world of yoga it seems that many who come to the mat have an awareness of a certain, dark, untouchable space… you could call it a void… that exists in us. Perhaps the awareness comes from some experience of sensing that space and becoming curious about what it is, and where it could lead us. Down the rabbit hole…

I mention this as, for me, there is a connection between that space and the feeling of longing.

We have a certain posture that we work with in Kundalini Global yoga classes… to my knowledge the posture has no name… born of ‘neck rolls’… it involves a gentle swaying from side to side. I believe it is the brain-child of Carolyn Cowan. If it is not, then that is certainly where my experience with the posture began. And where I fell head over heals in love with it. I share it here because it is what truly awoke this longing in me… and what I turn to when I want to sit with it once more.

You could try it if you haven’t… we sit cross legged, spine straight, hands on the knees.

The breath is gentle. Quiet. We inhale in the centre and exhale as we begin to sway. Move to the left first. Ear moving down toward the shoulder, swaying gently to the left, coming back up to gently inhale, then exhaling and gently swaying, ear toward shoulder, to the right.

Gradually, with each breath, each exhale, moving a tiny bit lower.  As we slowly descend the arms can come to the side, on the floor either side of us, to offer support. Rocking slowly, slowly, lower and lower. We take just as much time to descend as to slowly come back. I’d start with 3 minutes… so 90 seconds to descend as you sway, and 90 to come back slowly to tall and straight.

And then, not lying back as we commonly do after a posture, just sit in stillness. Really soft in the body. And notice…

What Carolyn brought my awareness to is a pulse. A pulse in the spinal fluid. It is called the lumbar cerebrospinal fluid pulse. And the rhythmic, swaying, motion of the posture allows us quickly, gently, to being able to tune into it. I find my body still sways a little with the pulse. So gently it is like being rocked in the weightless arms of an angel.

Cerebrospinal fluid is a clear, colourless body fluid found within the tissue that surrounds the brain and spinal cord of all vertebrates. When we are entirely present and still and when we are landed in our bodies, we may be able to become aware of this pulse. When we do, when we can, it is, or has been for me, an experience of myself that is otherworldly in its gentleness, in its perfection. I do not use the word perfect often but it really is. Perfect bliss.

Yet. Yet. In this perfect bliss I seem always to find a paradoxical longing. An ache.

How is this possible? To be entirely accepting of the moment, blissful, and yet the experience is one where longing is the word… Before gentle. Before calm. Before present. The only word I may place before longing is this one… Divine.

Carolyn teaches that the lumbar cerebrospinal fluid pulse is the Divine within the body.

How beautiful is that?

To me it feels exactly right.

Utter Perfection

The stillness that comes from the posture I describe above leaves me sitting with an emotion that feels so much more than ‘happy’. It is an aching, longing, blissful pull that feels like … a calling?!? Words. Words. Sometimes they fail.

Whatever the words are, I’ve felt this bliss before. Along with its accompanying, paradoxical, ache. One instance in-particular springs to mind, owing to how entirely unremarkable the moment was that it came. At least from the outside…

It was after my usual clockwise run around my local park on an Autumnal evening last year. It came as I walked home through an extremely ‘rough’ area of my city as the sun set. My trainers had rubbed my feet and my hair was wet with sweat. Cars passed. People shouted between windows in the flats lining the street and kids wove around me on scooters, giggling. The sky was beautiful. Purple, pink and orange. A huge flock of geese flew noisily overhead. Of course, after my run, I was flooded with endorphins. But nothing was unfamiliar. Nothing was noteworthy. Yet, all of a sudden, I had this sense come over me. I stopped still and looked up.

Utter perfection. Utter perfection in every cell of my body and… again, that deep deep longing.

It is so lovely when we can have such moments and consciously think ‘I will not forget this moment.’  And we don’t.

…something you cannot explain or know

When reflecting on this sense of present longing I, of course, needed to research, to dig into it and see what others may have taken such a feeling and experience to be or to mean.

In my reading I came across a word I like. It’s a German word: “Sehnsucht.’’

The dictionary tells us that ‘‘sehnsucht’’ is an “intense, mostly bittersweet longing for something remote or unattainable that would make life more complete”. Like a really intense yet infantile crush, then? Where you imagine complete perfection and bliss would come to all aspects of life with the first, passionate kiss? No. Not that. The translations of this word are tricky in English, but roughly it is, yes, a longing, but no, not like a crush, it is a deep yearning for something that you cannot ever explain or know.

I love to find a word that feels in alignment with the incommunicable. Not perfect. But close.

A yearning for something we cannot explain or know. Perhaps that is a definition not only of sehnsucht but of an aspect of devotion. Of a longing for the divine without. The external divine of our awareness. Whatever, whoever, that is. I think it is that. And I think it is a beautiful thing.

If I told 99% of the people in my real life that I was sitting in stillness with a yearning for God they would think I had lost the plot. . . but that is what I have come to.

I’ve been reading a lot about St. Augustine. I cannot go into his life here but do look him up. Quite a character. I have come to believe he was probably neurodivergent in some way. We share the same birthday. I did think once, ‘I hope we share little else…’ But of course we do. And not only this longing, this “Sehnsucht.” Although this is an aspect of human existence I am certain that we both have touched.

Holy longing?

In  Augustine’s sixth homily in his Homilies on 1, John states that a distinctive quality of Christian living is to learn to live into our longing:

“The whole life of the good Christian is a holy longing. What you long for, as yet you do not see; but longing makes in you room that shall be filled, when that which you are to see shall come.”

It’s such a curious thing. I love seeing an empty room inside me. A space. In Augustine’s thinking it is as if we are to be trained by longing. Not an arbitrary longing for our fuck buddy or a pair of cheap trainers. But by a holy longing.

A holy longing that creates a space, a ‘room that shall be filled’. I do not know if I want it to be filled. But I like sitting in that room and waiting in stillness. I like that a lot.

Most of us never sit in it.

So often, through a vast array of means and methods – returning to the list above of fast-food, fast-sex, fast-fashion – we work to soothe ourselves with anything other than… other than what? Other than the Divine.

I do not think these things are ‘bad.’ If we can be present to any moment, any experience, even a show we consume on Netflix or a cheap glazed doughnut… they can all be Divine.

Perhaps some aspect of longing comes when we forget the giver. Whatever or whoever we imagine that to be.

I believe that I have no satisfying way of ending this post for you. Perhaps I want to leave you in longing for an answer that may never come.

That is where I find myself. Happily.

I still sit, and sit still, in longing. And yes, I move between the experience of presence in it and seeking understanding of what it is.

I have come to realise that to sit in this longing is excellent for giving birth to artistic expression.

But I also reflect that, to go back to the ‘void’ inside that many in yoga, in ‘spiritual’ circles, seem to have become aware of in some way,  whatever the thing is that we believe to be a missing part of ourselves… perhaps is not a space that needs to be filled but one that is perfection as it is. If we can sit with it, in it. 

The longing for…

I don’t feel it needs to be named. 

Full Class Recording: Reprogramming The Human Psyche

Here you will find the link to a video of a full, 60 minute, class recording of my favourite yoga series: Reprogramming The Human Psyche.

As you will see, the video recordings of full classes are all password protected. This is, in no way, to limit access but because for insurance purposes I have to keep a record of who has access to full classes. 

To access the full class recordings sign up to my email newsletter to be given the password for all videos. By doing so you will also be able to get the links for free live classes that I run. If you hate email newsletters, email me and let me know you want the password just so I can keep a note of your name and contact details. Otherwise, you can signup here and will receive an email with the password right away:

I hope you enjoy the class recording and let me know if you have any questions. 

I always love to hear from you – you can send me an email (info@sarajaynekundalini.com)

Full Class Recording: Conscious or Unconscious You Do Affect Your Life Number 3

Here you will find the link to a video of a full, 60 minute, class recording of a really fun series called Conscious or Unconscious You Do Affect Your Life Number 3:

As you will see, the video recordings of full classes are all password protected. This is, in no way, to limit access but because for insurance purposes I have to keep a record of who has access to full classes. 

To access the full class recordings sign up to my email newsletter to be given the password for all videos. By doing so you will also be able to get the links for free live classes that I run. If you hate email newsletters, email me and let me know you want the password just so I can keep a note of your name and contact details. Otherwise, you can signup here and will receive an email with the password right away:

I hope you enjoy the class recording and let me know if you have any questions. 

I always love to hear from you – you can send me an email (info@sarajaynekundalini.com)

Acer Tree Endorphins, Aphrodisiacs by the Kilo, and the Beguilement of Angels Invading in Raindrops: What I Have Been Up To This Week

Hello everyone.

I’ve decided I need a little bit of a social media break this week. My mind needs soothing. To be cleansed of the agitation of algorithms and the senseless stream of scrolling that comes to my mind when I try to drift off to sleep. I so love creating the content for my Instagram account, it’s become a real joy for me. I see my account as an alter, and what I put on to it is reflected on hugely. Made me love. This is gorgeous and beautiful and all that stuff. But it also eats my time. Time time time. I never have enough of it. And, as a result, I am EXHAUSTED!

So, before I get to a point where I need to be scraped up out of bed with a giant spatula every morning I am going to activate self-care mode. I am taking on something of a personal challenge to find more silence in every day, and doing a social media detox feels like a good thing to take on at the same time. So, if you don’t see me popping up quite so much on Instagram this week, you will know why. I’m going to catch up on several books I have been desperate to read, take more baths and, I hope, find a few more opportunities to get out for a run. Running through the autumn leaves is my ultimate feel-good pastime. Every year. And I feel as if I’ve been missing out on that this autumn so far, and it’s only on offer for a few weeks a year. I cannot miss it entirely! If you’re local to me, then running through West Park when the rainbow of Acer trees are at their peak levels of wow is just so incredibly uplifting. Its a huge gift to yourself to do it. Then do a walk around the park at the end. Flooded with endorphins. The best!

Aphrodisiacs by the Kilo.


When I opened the door to my postman a few mornings ago and he handed me a huge, soft and bulging envelope addressed to me I was a little perplexed, having no idea at all what I had ordered. My days of late night eBay regret, I believe, are long gone (letting go of that particular habit along with alcohol – funny that!) So what had I ordered that was so enormous? When I saw the label on the package I laughed. It was herbs. A lot of them. A lot more, in fact, than I had intended.

As part of the series of Prayer Workshops I recently attended with Carolyn Cowan, we explored many different tools that may aid in facilitating prayer, presence, connection. And one of them was a magical herb I have never used before: Damiana.

Damiana is said to produce a small emotional uplift that can last for up to ninety minutes. It is also said that, if taken before bed, Damiana promotes pleasant dreams. It’s been traditionally used as an aphrodisiac – for which it is commonly smoked. My interest is in how it can induce dream states. Lovely ones.

We used it to make tea, and not only did I really love the taste, but, for me, the stillness, softness, dreaminess, it helped to fascinate was quite magical. So, when I ran out of the supply Carolyn had provided us with for the workshops I decided to stock up. Perhaps just a little too much… when you consider that the instructions are to use one heaped teaspoon no more than 4-5 times a week, I somehow ended up ordering a kilo. It didn’t sound like too much at the time but, on reflection, considering how light a dried herb is, it really is a lot. I’ll be bathing in the stuff for years, I think.

Classes this week

As always I am teaching my three classes at the regular times this week. Monday evening at 7pm, Wednesday morning at 10am, both online, taught via zoom. For these online classes the first one is free.

I am also back at Bantock House Museum and Gardens in The Coach House at. 10:15am on Tuesday. Pre booking is essential for this class due to COVID restrictions so make sure you fill out the booking form if you’d like to come so I can ensure I can contact you for the screening questions on Monday.

The Invention of The Self

I can’t remember, actually, ever being called to read a book more than I was to read this one.

I have been lost in The Invention of the Self by Andrew Spira for three weeks. I am not usually such a slow reader but, quite honestly, this book opened up so much for me, so many interesting rabbit holes to jump down, so many new ideas to consider, read around, explore, although I finished reading last night, I am not done with the book. I absolutely adore this work.

The Invention of the Self, Personal Identity in the Age of Art is a completely magical examination of personal identity. When I read, in the preface, about Andrew Spria’s beguilement at the at a Cathar concept of Angels invading earth in raindrops, I knew I was going to be taken on a exploration that would fascinate. I find that idea most beguiling too. In fact, I haven’t been able to let it go, at all, since.

I feel as if this book has in many ways shifted how I think about history, particularly considering my study of cultural history at University, radically. To consider how we construct the sense of ourselves through art is something I am now completely obsessed by. The idea that our personal identity is a social construct may not be new, but to look at this concept through the lens of how our sense of self has been unconsciously left behind in art, in paintings and sculptures and furniture and sundials and… I just find the entire concept resonates with me in a way I am struggling to put in to words right now (perhaps I should paint my response! In fact, I think I will!)

Whilst this is an academic text, published by Bloomsbury Academic, I found it to be extremely accessible. I do not know a lot about Art History, but that just made it all the more wonderful. I had so very much to explore. So much, still, to learn, to read about to reflect on. This will not be the last time you see me write about this book. It’s one of the best books I have ever read. Fascinating beyond words. It has lit up my brain so much I wish I could take a month off just to go deeper in to it all.

Exquisitely well written, with just the most magical images, illustrations… beyond words. Just fantastic. And a very beautiful object too. Will be treasured.

Do leave a comment or send me an email to let me know you’ve been here and what you’ve been up to too. And I look forward to seeing some of you in class this week.

Remember the first online class is free. If you have any questions or feedback or just want to say hello you can always email me.

Huge love

Sara xxxx

Swamp Creatures, Hector the Heron and the Romance of Sweeping Chimneys: What I Have Been Up To This Week

Hello fellow humans

Time folded in on itself this week. It feels as if I span around and it was Sunday again. Time flies when you are having an experience of life that very much ties in with why we desperately need yoga right now – life is busy! Busy and uncertain but, luckily for me, also very fun.

One of the things that makes me feel particularly blessed in life, and creates an awful lot of fun, is that I have a dog. I have mentioned her, briefly, on my About page, but not to the extent that she plays a part in my wellbeing. I adore her and taking her for a daily walk is pretty much what keeps me grounded, literally. Rebel is her name. And her nature. Although perhaps, if we would totally reflect her nature in the label she’s been assigned we would call her (Lazy) Rebel. She is 4 years old but often acts on our high-speed walks (I am a fast walker) as if she is 104. People often stop to ask me how old she is, as she plods along behind me at the speed of a slug. And are shocked to learn that she is a mere pup. She’s just super chilled out and that is very very good for me. She slows me down. She knows I need it.

I got a bit frustrated with her this week as, despite having absolutely no need whatsoever to move at any speed at all, ever, she is rather skilled at going from 0-1000 miles an hour when she spots a friend a mine. A heron I have named Hector. Hector often plods along the canal tow path in front of me lately. Pausing every so often to have a good look around. I have a buring desire to talk to him (I think he has something important to say) but, alas, as soon as Rebel spots him off he flies. Usually landing exactly level with us but over the other side of the canal. I have asked Rebel multiple times to calm down around Hector but she is very keen to dash up to him at breakneck speed. It’s incredibly frustrating.

Hello Hector!


Another time Rebel speeds up is whenever she gets a whiff of stagnant water or that glorious dog perfume, fox poo. This week she twice dashed off in to a nearby swamp before I could catch her. I should get cross, perhaps, but it always just makes me laugh when she emerges from the lagoon like a creature from the deep.

My walks with Rebel are a magical part of my life and I am grateful for her beyond words. If I manage to talk to Hector I will let you know.

Swamp Thing

Come sit with me this week. We will have fun.

Classes have been glorious this week. We continue to run classes on Tuesday mornings, in-person, at Bantock Park Coach House. I have two place for this week’s class if you are local and would like to come along.

Online classes are also ongoing. I had a bit of a falling out with Zoom this week, the full moon plus the technology gods were having a field day with me in a whole variety of ways. But we’ve kissed and made up. All is forgiven. I love teaching via zoom, online classes are much more magical than you might imagine. Doing a ‘live’ class is completely different to doing something pre-recorded. You have to experience it to feel the energy. It’s quite something to be able to connect in this way.

If you’d like to try either an in-person class or to come along to Bantock Park in Wolverhampton, you can book via the classes page on this site.

“The best thing about a picture is that it never changes, even when the people in it do.”

That’s a quote from Andy Warhol. And it captures beautifully why I really love photos. Just not always of myself.

This week I was blessed with some photo from a very talented photographer who came to my house to work with my on some photos for this website.

Priya at Sorriso has recently branched out from wedding photography in to brand photography. It’s not been the easiest time for those who work in the wedding industry (indeed, I know, for anyone!) and I truly respect the entrepenerual spirit it takes to embrace new ways of embracing your passion to allow it to work for the times.

Priya’s photographs are lovely, and you will see them being added to the site over time. I do hope Priya will forgive me for occasionally cutting myself out of images and placing myself in some imaginary universe I have created on my Instagram.

Chimney sweeps and cosy yoga

I am very very lucky to have my own space in my home in which to practise yoga. And even luckier that it has a log burner, which I absolutely love. I am thrilled that it is getting to the time of year where I can begin to use it. But right now I desperately need a chimney sweep to come and do their magic. I absolutely love that chimney sweeps still exist. I suppose my childhood love of Mary Poppins has made me somewhat romanticise what would well be a far-from-wonderful job. I’m not sure, though, because the one I use is always supremely happy and cheery.

Early morning practise by a fire is the most wonderful thing. It fills me up with such a lovely feeling to imagine waking up early and lighting my fire before I start to do my daily yoga.

At the moment I am absolutely loving doing an early morning core series with Carolyn Cowan. She has blessed us with this 6-week 7am series, which is now, sadly, almost complete. Luckily, this is being followed by six weeks of pranayama, and then, most gloriously, ‘Cores at Christmas’. Which I personally cannot wait for.

These are half hour classes on a Friday morning at 6am and it’s a very magical way to start the day. If you want to find out more you can do that here:

Until next week, magical creatures.

Do leave a comment or send me an email to let me know how you are. I would love to hear from you. And hope to see you in class this week.

With love

Sara-Jayne xxx