Watching Venezuela win the World Baseball Classic filled my heart in a way that’s hard to describe—but as I always say to my students, I’ll try. I’m a Venezuelan in the diaspora. I left as a little girl, and I haven’t been able to visit my family back home in over 17 years—I felt this victory in my soul. The pride wasn’t only about the win. It was the spirit of the team: the joy, the celebration, the smiles. In all of it, I saw my primos, my tíos, and my brothers. Their joy w

(Lessons from my dirty dishes) I found myself with a little extra time this morning. My “ladies holiday” interrupted my morning Ashtanga practice, so after my spiritual reading and pranayama, I found myself washing the dishes left in the sink from last night — nothing glamorous, just the ordinary rhythm of caring for my family. Along with several plates and cutlery, there was one bowl with the remnants of a frozen watermelon-and-mint treat I had enjoyed the previous evening.

Valentine’s Day, for some, means flowers and romance. For me, it’s a quiet ache that returns each year like a familiar tide. Valentine’s Day typically sells romantic love as the main course—loving couples, roses, reservations, a celebration of love, but also the idea that love is something we prove to others in a commercialized and materialistic way. I believe loving ourselves is like a seed, the quiet beginning where all love can bloom from—wether for partners, friends, fam