Twelve years ago, I couldn't have told you what yoga really was. I was that person in the gym, pushing harder, lifting heavier until my body said enough. 

When back and knee pain forced me to stop, yoga appeared like a reluctant compromise.

The physical relief came fast. Too fast to ignore. 

Within weeks I was moving freely again and I dove into a daily practice with the same intensity I brought to everything else. But yoga had other plans for me.

Three months in, I noticed something strange. 

I wasn't thinking about the poses anymore. 

My breath had found the rhythm of movement, and suddenly I was in my body instead of just operating it. 

That distinction changed everything.

Travel opened the door wider. Away from routines and obligations, I had space to get curious. 

I fell in love with inversions. 

It was playful and humbling at once, a reminder that being present isn't about perfection.

That curiosity eventually led me to India. Ninety days in Rishikesh and Mysore, immersed in intensive Vinyasa and Ashtanga training, waking at 5am for meditation with chanting in the background, training twice daily, living and breathing yoga with people from across the planet. 

Yoga became less about what my body could do and more about listening to what it was telling me.

Now I'm back in Belgium, deep in the busy-ness of work and daily life. 

The endless to-do lists, the mental tabs you can't close, the feeling that you're always catching up. And honestly? That's exactly why I teach. 

Yoga is my anchor when everything speeds up. 

You don't need to be flexible, spiritual, or fix anything to start. 

You just need to be curious about what it feels like to slow down and listen. 

Because yoga isn't about escaping your life. 

It's about being more fully present in it.