My practice began when I was eighteen. I should have been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I had just graduated high school and should have been thinking about my next step and setting the world on fire. Only I wasn’t. I was fighting the fight with anorexia and in a daily battle with my mind and body. A close friend took me to my first yoga class. It was a family run studio, in an old red brick house in the suburbs of Hong Kong.

The moment my feet landed on the mat my entire world changed. I was bad. I mean, really bad. But my heart felt like it had come home. And I’ve never left since.

For me the reason to grow my practice and teach was never to be able to do the fancy poses and call myself a “yogi.” It was to give back. To my students and this magical practice. And to be able to hold the space for others like my teachers have, and continue to, hold the space for me. Yoga for me isn’t about reaching for perfection, it’s about honouring the space you’re already in.

The last couple of years my practice has grown in the space of Bhakti Yoga. The yoga practices centred on devotion, and honouring the lineage that has come before. My absolute love and honour these days in being able to play Mantra and lead Kirtan within my classes, and finding that beautiful depth to this magical space.