I got into alignment yoga the old-fashioned way: I was in pain and needed to learn how to stop hurting myself.
In 2007, I thought of myself as an indestructible, bionic woman. As a professional aerialist, I could bench press my body weight, do more pull-ups than most men I knew, and was getting booked for dramatic shows on my red silks. I was also a certified yoga teacher, known in my community as an archetype of strength and fitness.
Then my shoulder started hurting.
What began as nagging discomfort became debilitating, searing pain. I sought help from a kinesiologist, chiropractor, massage therapists and PT. I tried Reiki and meditation. Nothing offered lasting relief.
My yoga practice wasn’t helping, either. Downward facing dog hurt. Chaturanga was impossible. Eventually, picking up a glass of water made me grimace.
I was teaching yoga, but I felt like a fraud.
In 2008, after moving to Philadelphia, I started studying Alignment Yoga. It was like coming home.
I began uncovering my body’s patterns: how my mobile ribs and remarkably open shoulders actually put me at risk. I studied anatomy and biomechanics and learned how to build integrated strength instead of simply pushing further into my flexibility.
My shoulder pain started to clear.
Slowly, I returned to the poses I’d been avoiding: down dog, then chaturanga, then vinyasa. Eventually, I was pain-free in inversions, binds and arm balances again.
But I had learned something much bigger than how to fix my own shoulder.
I began recognizing patterns shared among bodies: the aches that show up when we sit all day, run marathons, practice ballet, or repeat the same movements for years.
I brought this work to my students, who began coming to me with their injuries and chronic pain. Since then, I’ve helped thousands of yogis better understand why their bodies hurt and how mindful alignment, strength and movement can help.
Then, in 2018, I got another education in injury.
I was in a bicycle accident and really, really broke my arm: a compound fracture, both forearm bones snapped, one bone partially shattered. After a 6.5-hour surgery, three plates, countless screws and 300 stitches, my surgeon warned me that I might never regain full mobility.
Once I was cleared to move, I returned to the same principles I’d taught my students for years: start gently. Move from no weight bearing toward greater weight bearing. Be patient AND tenacious.
And most importantly: none of this should hurt.
Today, the function in my arm is incredible.
That recovery reinforced something I already knew: yoga isn’t a pill you take to make your problems disappear. It’s a practice. Healing and resilience require curiosity, consistency and time.
I’ve been teaching yoga since 2005 and training teachers since 2010. My own injuries—and the experiences of thousands of students I’ve worked with—have shaped the way we teach at Maha.
In our classes, private lessons and training programs, we help people understand their bodies, build strength and mobility, work intelligently with injuries, and create movement practices that can evolve with them over a lifetime.
I’m still a student, still asking questions, and still deeply grateful for every teacher and student who has educated me along the way.
Come practice with us. Together, we continue to seek, learn, heal and grow.
I hope to see you on the mat soon.
