I Am Whole. I Am Holy. I Am Sovereign.

These words ring through my body like truth-tuned bells.

They feel like a homecoming—a return to embodied presence through the portal of remembrance.

They feel like lantern light, guiding my practice.

And they’ve become great teachers.

This past week, in my RITUAL Priestess Facilitation Training, I was steeped in magic, mystery, and deep presence. As we moved through ritual and circle, I could feel the spark of something ancient and alive rising up in me.

It was during this training that my teacher shared a mantra with us:
I am whole. I am holy. I am sovereign.

As she spoke the words, something stirred deep in my body—a resonance, a remembering. After a full weekend of leaning into my power, standing in circle, and honoring my inner authority, this mantra felt like both a torch and a tether.

When I began preparing my classes for the week, I carried it with me. I let it shape the space I would hold. I let it burn gently at the center of everything I created.

The element that began to rise and call for my attention was FIRE.

In the way I teach, I begin with elemental energy. It becomes the thread I weave through our time together.

And fire—well, fire is power. Fire is sovereignty. Fire is the radiant force that invites us to root into our essence and rise from there.

At first, I noticed myself drifting into old patterns—questioning whether I was prepared enough, wondering if I should have done more.

But that mantra was still pulsing inside me. I let it guide me back. I chose to trust the process. I chose to listen.

At my first weekly class—a postpartum yoga circle—we began with our usual check-in. I had planned to introduce the fire theme, but before I could even prompt, the circle lit up on its own. One by one, they shared their birth stories.

Stories of power.
Of setting boundaries.
Of claiming space.
Of maternal instinct and transformational decisions.

The kind of stories that pierce the heart and lift the soul.
The kind of stories that build sacred community through witnessing.

As I listened, I felt it: fire was already here.

When it was time to begin, I shared a teaching I love—how in the yoga tradition, asana doesn’t just mean physical posture. It also means seat. Throne.

To take your seat is to claim your space. To own your throne is to embody your sovereignty.

Power expresses in many ways.
It can rise with a roar or flow in stillness.
It can be fierce, soft, clear, or wild.

I spoke of Parvati, Durga, and Kali—each embodying a different expression of feminine power.

Parvati reminds us of soft power—the strength in devotion, love, and steady presence.
Durga protects what matters with clear, unwavering courage.
Kali burns through illusion, showing us that falling apart can be part of the path.

The middle path lives within us.
A sacred space where tenderness and fire meet.
Where power is allowed to take every form it needs.

Then I asked my students:
What pose brings you into your power?

We co-created the class from their answers. It became an embodied expression of collective fire.

Some of the asanas that came through:
Balasana. Tadasana. Warrior poses. Half Moon. Bird of Paradise (pre-pregnancy). Goddess. Down Dog.

I offered variations, adaptations, and prep poses—because power doesn’t rush.

Especially in postpartum, the body asks for reverence. There’s often pressure to “get back” to a body that no longer exists. But there is no going back—only forward, slowly, with care.

We rebuild. We rekindle.
We light the fire from the ground up.
That’s how we claim our strength—our seat—our sovereignty.

Parenthood is one of those sacred rites of passage where this fire ignites from within.

Suddenly, we’re the ones in charge.
The ones who must choose.
To trust our instincts.
To tune into our deep knowing.
To return to our bodies with presence, curiosity, and care.
To take our seat with clarity and compassion.
To own our throne.

Before closing, I invited everyone to make a “Power Playlist”—a short list of everyday things that help them feel strong, grounded, and alive.

A favorite drink. A deep breath. A stretch. A song. A mantra.

Maybe try that for yourself.
Start simple.
Start slow.
Let it grow.

I'd love to hear what's on your list—and how you're tending to your fire these days.

A closing affirmation to carry into your week:

I honor my rhythms.
I trust my knowing.
I meet my power where it lives—
In the breath,
In the body,
In the pause,
And in the rising.