I’ve been reflecting on what it means to live between worlds.

To build a life in one place, while your very cells remember another.

Watching Bad Bunny perform at the Super Bowl stirred something deep in me. He’s from Puerto Rico. I was born on the neighbouring island of the Dominican Republic. As I watched, I felt like our flags, our rhythm, our pride and our history were being held with dignity on a global stage. Political resistance through education. Love of homeland expressed through art.

It reminded me of the vibrancy of where I come from —
the colour, the rhythm, the unapologetically loud presence.

And it made me miss it. Viscerally.

Belonging, I realised, is not only geographic. It is energetic. It lives in the body. I felt the urge to dance, to hug my loved ones, to cry.

I came to the UK when I was 18, and I have now lived most of my life in England, where I am a naturalised citizen. I am building something meaningful here — a community and culture I have embraced and, at times, carefully code-switched into. And still, often, I feel slightly on the outside.

Have you ever felt that?
At work? In motherhood? In leadership? In friendship?
Standing in a room quietly wondering if you fully belong there?

If belonging depends on a place, a role, or other people’s approval, it will always feel fragile. Always outward-facing.

The other day at the gym I wanted to break into dance to a Bad Bunny song — and didn’t. A small moment, perhaps. But it made me notice how subtly we edit ourselves to maintain acceptance.

And yet, when I look inward — even in the loneliness of not fully belonging — I sense the richness of having lived between cultures. An expanded way of seeing. A capacity to hold nuance.

Brené Brown speaks about “true belonging” as a spiritual practice — something cultivated internally rather than granted by a group. That requires authenticity. And authenticity doesn’t always feel comfortable or safe. It asks us not to shrink the parts of ourselves that feel too different, too expressive, too much.

I like the idea of belonging as a practice. Like yoga, it asks us to come into awareness again and again — noticing what feels tender, unresolved, or hidden. It feels humble. Meeting the edge of discomfort. Integrating all parts of who you are — your history, your contradictions, your ambition, your tenderness — and allowing them to coexist without apology.

Belonging may not be about choosing one flag over another, or perfectly assimilating.

It may be about integration. About becoming truer to yourself.

I may never feel comfortable breaking into reguetón in the middle of the gym floor — but that’s probably more about my temperament than about fitting in. Belonging becomes less about where you stand, and more about how fully you inhabit yourself when you stand there.

I don’t have neat answers. But perhaps there is a gentle question here:

The next time you find yourself somewhere you don’t quite fit,
instead of asking “Do I belong here?” what if you asked, “How am I inhabiting myself right now?”

Maybe that is the place to begin.

Very new moon. 🌑

Tuesdays, 7pm, Barnoldswick (KL Health Hub)

A small-group class blending yoga, functional movement and mobility to help you move well, build strength with integrity, and support recovery from the demands of modern life.

These sessions focus on joint health, steady strength, and nervous system regulation — so you leave feeling clearer, more connected, and capable in your body.

Accessible, progressive, personal and thoughtfully paced. *You don’t need to be a gym member to join.

Tuesdays online 5:15pm and Thursdays 6:30pm, Clitheroe

An intentional and inwardly focused practice rooted in breath, core strength and deep presence. Forrest Yoga invites you to build physical confidence while staying connected to feeling — developing resilience without disconnecting from yourself.

Expect intelligent sequencing, long dynamic holds, and space to work honestly with what arises.

Online Friday 27 February & Friday 27 March, 7pm

A deeply nourishing online practice designed for the darker months. Slow, supported postures, longer holds, and conscious breathing help calm the nervous system and replenish energy.

This is a space to soften, reset, and allow winter to do its quiet work within you.

I also teach this class twice a month in Clitheroe.

Honouring International Women’s Day, 8 March, 10am, Skipton

A morning to gather, move, and honour the feminine — and the women who came before us.

This Yoga & Brunch will weave steady, breath-led movement with moments of reflection, acknowledging both the strength and tenderness we carry in our bodies. International Women’s Day can sometimes feel loud or performative; this space will be quieter, more intentional. A chance to reconnect to your own inner ground before stepping back into the world.

After practice, we’ll share nourishing food and unhurried conversation — creating space for connection, warmth, and honest exchange.

In partnership with Pendle Wellbeing Hub, 20 March, 7pm, Barrowford

This Spring Equinox gathering marks the second of our Wheel of the Year events in collaboration with Pendle Wellbeing Hub — a seasonal journey we’ll be offering throughout the year.

Ostara honours balance: light and dark in equal measure. It is a threshold moment — a gentle turning toward growth, possibility, and renewal.

Together, we’ll move through an embodied yoga practice designed to awaken energy after winter, followed by guided reflection and simple seasonal ritual. Expect grounding, intention-setting, and space to consider what is ready to emerge in your life this spring.

These gatherings are about remembering our place within the natural rhythms of the year — and allowing that rhythm to support how we live, lead, and care for ourselves.

New Moon Reflection

You may wish to sit with these one evening this week:

Let your answers be imperfect.

It asks us to admit we are still becoming.

I am building this coaching and yoga work from a true place of devotion — to integrity, to non-harming, to self-study. Sometimes that devotion feels strong and certain. Sometimes it feels tender and questioning.

I am sitting with them both.

If you, too, are navigating uncertainty — about work, identity, place, motherhood, leadership, or simply the pace of your own life — know that there is nothing wrong with you.

There is wisdom in the pause.

This month, I will continue to create spaces where you can land. Where your nervous system can exhale. Where your can access your strength to rebuild slowly. Where you are invited back to yourself.

And perhaps that is belonging enough for now.

Until next time,

Supporting individuals and businesses towards authentic freedom and wellbeing