Introducing Myself + How Quiet Tides Was Born

I’ve been a yoga teacher for 23 years, and I’m also an Ayurvedic practitioner.

When people ask me how I became a yoga teacher, it can sound a bit cliché, but the honest answer is—it chose me.

In my early thirties, I travelled alone in India for six months and spent time in an ashram. I had a profound experience there that completely shifted my understanding of yoga. It became clear to me that there was far more to it than I had initially understood.

When I returned home, I noticed the ashram was running a yoga teacher training. I didn’t deliberate over it for long—it was a full-body yes. I couldn’t ignore it. I never went there intending to become a teacher. I didn’t even hold that identity for myself at the time. I simply knew I had to follow something deeper.

Even while I was on the training, I didn’t think, “I’m going to teach yoga.” I just felt completely in the right place—like something in me had come home. My sense was simply to learn, to absorb, and to be in it fully.

It was only afterwards, back home, that it became obvious: this wasn’t something to keep to myself. It was something to share.

For many years I taught physical yoga alongside meditation, yoga nidra, and breathwork.

About three years ago, I stopped teaching the physical postures. This wasn’t a decision I made intellectually—it was something my body made clear over time. I was also moving through menopause, and I began to notice a very honest shift in what my system needed. Less repetition and flexibility work, and more strength, steadiness, and simplicity.

In a way, the physical practice had served its original purpose. Traditionally, asana supports the body into a stable, healthy state so that one can sit in meditation for longer periods. At its root, yoga is not simply a wellness practice—it is a path of inner transformation and, ultimately, awakening.

I’ve always tried to stay close to that essence. I was trained in more traditional approaches to both yoga and Ayurveda, and while both have inevitably evolved and become more diluted in modern culture, I still feel a responsibility to honour the depth and integrity of what I was taught—while also recognising that we are living in a different time, and practices naturally evolve with us.

What became clear over time was that my own body was evolving too. It began to communicate very clearly that it no longer needed that same physical layer of practice in the same way. Instead, it wanted strength, grounding, and a different kind of internal focus.

And so I followed that.

Alongside all of this, I’m also just an everyday person and a mum. There have been periods in my life where I haven’t held a formal practice as steadily as I might have liked. But I’ve never really left it. I always return. Again and again.

Yoga nidra, in particular, has been a constant thread throughout everything—a place I come back to when life is full, messy, or uncertain. A way of remembering what is steady underneath it all.

And through all these years of practice—of turning inward, listening, softening, returning—it has become more and more obvious to me that this is really what the journey is about. Beneath all the striving, the healing, the searching, and the layers we accumulate through life, there is something profoundly simple waiting for us: the remembering of who we are.

For me, yoga has never ultimately been about perfect postures or self-improvement. It is about coming back into relationship with ourselves. Learning how to meet ourselves honestly, compassionately, and with love.

Through my work in Ayurveda, I also learned how to meet people in a more holistic way—understanding that what shows up in the body is often intertwined with the mental, emotional, and spiritual layers of experience. Not just symptoms, but a fuller expression of dis-ease.

Alongside the practical aspects of Ayurvedic work, I was also trained to listen and to hold space through a counselling-based approach. Over the years, this has deeply informed the way I work with people—not trying to fix or advise from above, but creating space for people to hear themselves more clearly and reconnect with their own inner knowing.

I’ve also continued learning throughout all these years. Returning to trainings, immersions, retreats, and studies across different traditions and approaches around the world—not from a place of collecting qualifications, but from a genuine love of learning and deepening understanding.

Each experience has shaped and refined the way I work. Over time, what I offer has become less about following a single method and more about weaving together everything I’ve lived, studied, practised, and embodied.

I think what I bring now is something quite unique. Not because it is entirely new, but because it has been slowly distilled through years of devotion, curiosity, experience, and real life.

Over time, all of this—yoga, Ayurveda, life experience, motherhood, study, and practice across many different lineages—began to distil into something simpler. Less about doing, and more about listening.

And this is how Quiet Tides came to be.

Not as a business idea or carefully constructed offering, but as a natural expression of everything I’ve lived, studied, questioned, practised, and returned to over the past 23 years.

It is an integration of devotion, experience, and deep listening. A space shaped not only by traditional teachings, but by real life—by motherhood, change, uncertainty, the body’s wisdom, and the continual invitation to soften and come back to myself again and again.

At its heart, Quiet Tides is about creating space for people to reconnect with themselves beneath the noise. Through yoga nidra, meditation, breathwork, seasonal gatherings, and quiet reflection, my intention is simply to offer practices and spaces that support rest, inner listening, gentle transformation and a remembering of who we are underneath all the layers.

The more I turn inward, the more I experience tat this path is not about becoming something else, but remembering what we already are. Beneath the layers, there is connection - to ourselves, to each other, to all living beings and to the Earth herself. Quiet Tides was born of that remembering.