I have vivid memories from our old house growing up, sitting on the green and white striped two seater couch staring at the photographs hanging on the wall of the computer room. One was a close-up of a kangaroo holding a piece of fruit tight in it’s grip, the other a snapshot of a waterski jump constructed of a plank of wood and a metal barrel.

Subconsciously a seed had been planted, I realize now, that would lead me to seek out my own adventures in this beautiful place. From these photographs and bits and pieces of stories my parents shared throughout the years, Australia in my mind was a wild and incredible place.

I needed to go.

Fast forward to my twenty-sixth year, it’s December 2015 and I’m eleven months into my Australian working holiday visa. My older sister Sarah agreed to fly over from Canada for Christmas for our very own West Coast Jack Kerouac inspired road-trip.

Never did I imagine we’d relive these photographs in person. Soon we’d find ourselves standing in the exact same place our parents had been thirty years ago. A tiny dot on the map in the Southwest corner of Australia and worlds away from home.

Rewind to December 1981, and after flying from New-York, to LA, to Hawaii, with a quick two and a half month pit stop in New Zealand, my parents arrive to Sydney, Australia. They had very little savings left, but with $450 cash and enough sense of adventure they purchased a beaten down Holden Commodore station wagon. A quick change of the tires and they were road-trip ready.

They took a weekend trip to go see the Australian National Waterski Championships, where they met Karla, a kindred spirit and animal lover, and her husband Lex, a calm and vibrant man. They became instantaneous friends and gladly accepted an invitation to stay at their family farm, in Albany, Western Australia, to partake in their annual waterski tournament.

Young and long haired they drove across the Nullarbor, with their rustic wagon and five gallons of water. My dad would lay in the back boiling hot water for coffee and making egg mcmuffins while my mom drove across the monotonously flat scenery ahead.

Several days of driving later they arrived in Albany. They camped, skied, and after only a few days together, stayed in contact for the next thirty years.

Having never been to Australia, my sister Sarah voiced her desires to explore the East Coast. But earlier in the year I had taken five days and driven solo from The Town of 1770 to Melbourne along the coastal highway, crossing two state-lines in solitude in a Holden Commodore station wagon, similar to what my parents had owned. I’d seen the East already and wanted a new experience.

I’d heard about the pristine and quiet beaches that lay far to the West so I convinced her to fly out to Perth together.

The West was calling and off we went.

We had ten days, a rental car, and a handful of cameras to fulfill our mutual love for photography. We planned to spend three days in Fremantle, just south of Perth, three in Margaret River, and three days, which turned into five, in Albany, WA, at Karla and Lex’s family farm.

We stopped at twenty or so beaches between Perth and Albany and swam in the ocean for days on end, content with sandy feet and salty hair.

We arrived to Surfer’s Point just as a storm swept in. The wind was cold and our eyes tired but we stayed to watch in amazement as the wind surfers and kite boarders rushed down the steep stairwell to the beach to conquer the swell.

We drove through dry desert full of oddly shaped rock pinnacles, through dense gumtree woodlands, and past a forest fire that was up in flames dangerously close to the road.

Christmas eve we pulled over in the middle of nowhere to dance around in our party dresses and eat hummus and carrots.

We saw endless ocean views spanning the entire horizon, the most beautiful beaches we’d ever laid eyes on with not a person in sight, and water so turquoisey-blue we couldn’t believe it was real.

We fought, like sisters do, but it was much like the waves of the ocean. Fluctuations, they naturally come and go.

The beauty of our surroundings overpowered any negatives.

On Christmas Eve we arrived in Albany, WA, with a warm welcome from Karla and Lex, their children and grandchildren, and their four dogs, two birds, wild horses, chickens, and goats.

Their farm sits high up on a hill overlooking miles and miles of hazy blue Great Southern Ocean, green paddocks full of wild kangaroos, and a long, secluded beach backed by two-story high sand dunes. It was like separate scenes from Jurassic Park and Fern Gully had been combined and relocated to the coast.

It was a snapshot of heaven on earth.

The next few days were spent touring around in their four-wheel drive Toyota, for 6am swims in the rock pools below and taken to lookouts high up on the ridges of the shoreline, locations only frequented by the locals. They took us for a dip at the beach where Karla, unknowingly, had once tread water above two curious and somewhat large reef sharks.

In hindsight, the time spent with my older sister Sarah on the Southwest corner of Australia feels like a dream.

I was reminded of those photographs in our old house, hanging on the basement wall. My eyes grew wide as I stared at the kangaroos hopping around the fields in front of me, a scene I’d once imagined and was now my reality. The hairs on my arm stood tall as we drove past the lake where that very same ski jump had once been.

It’s as though my sister and I had been transported to an alternate universe, a secret our parents had lived for those few days thirty years ago, and now we were experiencing it for ourselves.

There was an instinctive feeling that we had come to this place for a reason. To bring things full circle.

Here is what I learned.

1) The most important relationship you have is the one you create with yourself.

Seriously, though.

I am my own worst critic. I still am. But spending a year traveling solo, I was forced to spend a lot of time in solitude. I learned how to better handle my emotions, how to understand my thought processes, and generally how to be a lot nicer to myself.

I learned a lot about self-compassion.

It’s a work in progress. But man, life is so much easier when you decide to support your own team.

2) Follow your own star.

Without the influence or perceived pressure from others, how would you live your life?

I went to Australia because I had been dreaming to go for years. My intuition was guiding me to this far away land. And so I went!

Even if it doesn’t make sense to others…what do you truly want to do with your life?

3) Prioritize your life in a way that makes sense, for you.

A lot of people my age are buying houses, getting married and talking about having kids. There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting these things, if that’s what will make you happy.

When I returned home from Australia I had to have an honest conversation with myself. I made the decision to support my friends, no matter how different our lives were. I also realized that I needed to be ok with carving my own path, no matter how different it may seem.

For me, having a house or getting married or having kids are not things that I want right now. And that’s ok too. Maybe I will want them someday. But not right now.

It’s ok to want different things.

It’s ok for peoples lives to progress along different paths and timelines.

Prioritize the things you want, in a way that’s most authentic to you.

4) Material items are not that important.

Australia is damn expensive. Rent in “share house”, with a small room and tiny single bed cost me over $1000 a month (and that was “cheap”). When I arrived to Sydney I was between jobs and pay checks. I had secured a full-time job as a yoga instructor but wasn’t getting paid for two weeks.

I had $17 in my bank account. Yep.

I had to fit all of my possessions into one large backpack. For a whole year, one backpack. The combination of running out of money, and forcing all of my clothes into one bag, taught me a crucial life lesson.

It taught me how unimportant material items truly are. In no way was my sense of happiness tied to the things that I owned.

I learned to not spend money on stupid, unnecessary stuff.

My relationship with material possessions has changed. I feel less attachment to things.

I still go shopping and buy things. But when I do, it’s with more conscious thought.

Do I really need this? Is this going to make me happier?

5) Failure is an event not a person.

I met a lot of people traveling. I was traveling alone, and I said yes to as many adventures as I could. This also meant that I met people I wouldn’t have met had I stayed in my comfort zone.

Maybe I was more open to relationships because everything was new and exciting. Maybe I was naive. It could be both. Long story short, I got my heartbroken. And I don’t regret it.

Failure is a perceived event. I’ve learned to understand failure as measure of growth. If I’m not failing at anything, I’m not trying.

Date people. Get to know what you like and don’t like. You’ll learn a lot about yourself, and also what kind of relationship you want and deserve.

Sometimes people are only meant to be in your life for a short period of time. And that’s ok.

Insert cheesy quote:

“Be strong enough to let go, and wise enough to wait for what you deserve.”

6) Spend time alone.

I spent a lot of time alone in Australia. Sometimes by choice, other times because I was traveling by myself. I began to understand the value in spending time alone. I learned to enjoy my own company.

Spending time alone is my backbone of confidence. It has taught me to be less concerned with the approval of others. Spending time alone also allowed me to reflect on the kinds of people I want to surround myself with. Time alone, away from family and friends, made me appreciate the people I care about even more.

The time I spent by myself taught me a lot about who I am as a person.

Time spent alone is time well spent.

7) Less social media, more happiness.

Ok, I admit, I’m learning to take my own advice on this subject. Social media can be a useful tool of connecting with inspiring people, and as way of marketing a business. It’s fun. Social media is also addictive.

I spent three weeks in this little coastal town in Australia called Agnes Water & the Town of 1770 (yes, it exists). There was very limited wi-fi and cell phone reception. At one point, my phone battery died and I had no contact with the outside world for four days. Instead I went camping, went to the beach, went surfing, sat at the local cafe and read my book, and played outside on the longboard. I didn’t have Snapchat for my entire year-long adventure. It was awesome.

The less I was attached to my phone, the more I became aware of my attachment to it.

Now that I’m back home in Canada with an upgraded phone, I’m forced to re-learn this again. Instagram is creative and fun but sometimes it makes us feel like crap because inherently we compare ourselves to others.

So, I say to myself, use social media with care. Perhaps spend a day (or two, or three, or seven) in “digital detox”. Make an effort to use it less, and to use it wisely.

Note to self: for increased happiness, limit use of social media.

Less time looking at screens, more time spent…experiencing life.

8) Less attachment to outcomes.

In other words, go with the flow.

So many things went “wrong” on my travels.

My travel partner and I parted ways, and I ended up with sole ownership of a car (a thrifty 2001 Holden Commodore station wagon), which was not what I had planned. I spent time living in 1770, Byron Bay and Melbourne, also what I’d never planned to do. Living in Australia cost way more than I’d ever imagined it would. The opening date for the yoga studio I had planned to work at got delayed by several months. I dated someone, moved to another city, and things didn’t work out. Twice.

Whenever I failed to accept my circumstances — how things happened versus how I imagined them happening — I suffered.

Moral of the story: acceptance. Don’t fight what is.

The sooner I work on making changes and finding solutions, the better.

Car broke down? Feel bad? Ok. Feel it. Now, what’s the best solution to this problem?

Less effort, more ease.

Less force, more flow.

How a friend’s enthusiasm for yoga led to me discovering its healing powers, finding myself, and becoming a professional yoga teacher.

My journey with yoga began in second-year university, as a stressed out and overworked student with a brain that ran a million miles a minute. Riddled with anxiety for much of my adolescence, life as a university student was not helping. While I was extremely active, into fitness and running, I still couldn’t calm my wild brain. I remember worrying about the smallest of things and was always stressed out studying for tests, exams, and writing essays at the last minute.

Deciding to Give Yoga a Try

What pushed me over the edge to seek out my first class was an overwhelming feeling of stress. Something needed to change. I couldn’t bear the weight of worry any longer. As a student studying health I’d heard about the benefits of this so-called yoga practice, but never had I tried a class myself.

One day I met a friend for coffee on campus, and as I was stressed about upcoming exams she seemed to be feeling quite the opposite — calm and relaxed. She expressed her enthusiasm for this new yoga studio she’d discovered, and invited me to tag along. This was the first time I remember being genuinely curious about trying yoga because I could see the positive effects it was having on my friend who was sitting right in front of me.

At the time, hot yoga seemed like such an extreme thing to try. Why would I want to move through a series of challenging poses in a steaming hot room surrounded by sweaty bodies? But since my friend was so enthusiastic, despite my doubts I decided to give it a shot. We signed up for an evening flow class together.

My First Yoga Studio

The studio was only a two-minute walk from where I was living at the time. It was just off campus and was the main yoga studio in the small town where I was attending university. It was a welcoming but tiny space — a little hole-in-the-wall along one of the main streets of the town. As you’d walk in, there was a small area for drinking tea, with an array of colorful pillows on the floor, where students and teachers would often sit and have a chat. It always smelled of incense, and the walls were covered in works by local artists in town.

There were two small studio rooms: one for yin-based yoga practices, and a second for energizing power classes that was also heated. There were no change rooms, but the facility had two small washrooms. Students would line up in the narrow hallway and overflow into the front room, waiting with yoga mats in hand as the class before was about to finish.

My First Yoga Class

It’s been nearly seven years since my first class, but I remember the feeling quite clearly. I was scared to try yoga, let alone hot yoga! I didn’t know if I was going to be able to do some of the poses, or if I was wearing the right attire. I didn’t even own a yoga mat. I didn’t know I was supposed to bring a towel, and luckily the studio offered rentals. Otherwise, I would’ve been sliding all over my mat.

I was surprised at how packed the studio was. After an hour of moving and breathing and sweating, and a final sweet and long Shavasana (Corpse Pose), I left that room floating on a cloud. It felt as though someone had taken the weight of anxiety and lifted it off of my chest. I could breathe deeply, my head felt clear, and the stress of exams seemed more bearable. I left feeling at peace, energized, and restored not only physically but also mentally.

Hooked on Yoga — In a Good Way

I continued with yoga because it helped me deal with anxiety. In fact, it almost removed it from my life completely. Once I started practicing regularly, I was more capable of handling stress in a healthy and balanced way. The more I attended yoga classes, the more I noticed changes in my mental well-being. Attending regularly also made me a better runner, and improved my endurance and ability to breathe deeply. I had less physical aches and pains, and I began to feel a sense of sustained mental clarity that I had never experienced before.

The teachers were confident and capable. I enjoyed their classes. They were challenging, dynamic, and it felt like a new experience each time. I practiced yoga for the remaining two years of university. I became so passionate about the benefits of yoga that for my final university thesis project I titled my research paper: “Research Evidence for the Benefits of Yoga-Based Meditative Practices.”

Continuing to Learn and Grow

After graduating and moving back to my hometown, my father introduced me to a new yoga studio he had been going to regularly. After practicing there for a while, I fell in love with the style they taught called Moksha Yoga. A few months later I went on to take my teacher training with them.

Since my first days of yoga, I’ve taken classes and workshops across Canada and internationally. I’ve tried all sorts of methods including relaxed styles (Restorative and Yin), vinyasa-based styles (Ashtanga, Baptiste, Core Flow, and Jivamukti), hot styles (Bikram, etc.), and other systems such as Kundalini.

I moved to Vancouver from Ottawa after my teacher training and taught yoga out West. I moved to Australia for a year and continued teaching and practicing different styles and forms of yoga. When I was on a road-trip down the California coast, I stopped in Oregon to take a four-hour inversion workshop.

Lessons Learned

As time passed, I began to understand that this practice sometimes fluctuates. There will be days when you don’t want to roll out your yoga mat to move, breathe, and sweat. Moving through a series of poses every day isn’t always easy. However, those days when I didn’t feel like doing yoga, were usually the ones when I needed it the most. Whenever I stopped practicing for extended periods, I started to notice my anxiety returning and somehow life didn’t seem to flow as smoothly.

As a maturing student, I am learning to create a discipline surrounding my yoga practice. From discipline comes freedom. Dedication to yoga creates a balance in day-to-day life off of my yoga mat. Yoga builds physical strength, but it also creates a mental clarity, confidence, and inner strength that is developed from consistent practice over time.

Ways Yoga Has Enriched My Life

Yoga has taken me to all corners of the globe and allowed me to explore new ways of thinking. It has given me the tools to deal with anxiety, instead of being swallowed up by worry and fear. My practice has allowed me to find compassion, love and acceptance for who I am as a person, and for this body that I call home. I am so very grateful to have found yoga, and for the wonderful gifts, it has provided in my life.

When I practice yoga, I can find clarity.

When I practice yoga, I can approach joy and sorrow from a neutral perspective.

When I practice yoga, life flows with more ease.

When I practice yoga, I can face fear head on.

When I practice yoga, I can practice gratitude more easily.

When I practice yoga, I am at peace.

Through yoga, I feel like I am constantly evolving into the most authentic version of myself. As a yoga teacher I make sure my intention for teaching each class is always from a place of love and compassion.