About Us

I found my way to Club Haven through loss, and then through love. As a professional ballet dancer, I discovered that a body in motion could feel transcendent, until an injury changed everything I thought I knew about movement, and about myself. In the years that followed, I turned to yoga, meditation, Yoga Nidra, breathwork, Qi Gong, Pilates, and gentle fitness, not to return to who I had been, but to grow into someone more fully myself. I became a certified Group Fitness Instructor, teaching classes that fuse everything I'd come to love, and when students asked how to bring this work home, Club Haven was born. I live with complex scoliosis today, and these practices are my daily companions, bringing balance, joy, and a way for my spirit to lead me back to wholeness. I've known bliss mid-pirouette and I've known it lying perfectly still, and I believe you can find it too, wherever you're starting from. Come as you are.

Here's the fuller story, if you'd like it.

There is a state of being that feels like bliss: a place where body, mind, and spirit move in such harmony that time seems to soften at its edges, and everything feels gloriously, effortlessly possible. It is the experience of fully embodying my soul, letting it lead, and being connected to grace. I know this state well, because I have lived inside it. I also know the long, sometimes painful road of finding my way back to it.

A Life in Motion

As a child, movement was my first language. Training as a professional ballet dancer, I discovered that a body in motion could become something transcendent, a conductor of both sensation and stillness, capable of bending time and shaping reality in ways that went far beyond technique.

Before performances, I had a private ritual I had no name for at the time: going completely still, following my breath, and feeling the sensations moving through my body until I reached a calm, centered state, the very thing that let that transcendence take over once I stepped on stage.

There was a second part to that ritual, too. I would arrive at the theater before almost anyone else, walk out onto the empty stage, and let my eyes move across the rows of velvet seats, feeling a warmth rise in my chest and sending it out into the quiet auditorium. It was my way of claiming that space and working through the fear, so that by the time the audience arrived, I could be fully present and give what I'd come to give.

After earning a Bachelor of Science in Ballet and spending years performing, teaching, and choreographing, I felt a shift beginning, not in my purpose, but in how I was meant to live it out, though I couldn't yet see where it was leading. It was also during those years that I met the man I would marry, a fellow dancer in the company, whose love and support gave me room to venture beyond ballet into whatever came next.

When the Body Changed the Story

Then I sustained an injury to my ribs and shoulder blade, and the pain compounded from there. Ballet no longer felt safe for my body, and I became fearful of hurting myself further. Movement patterns that had once felt like poetry began to feel like struggle.

The mental and emotional weight of that shift was just as real as the physical one. Dancing had been how I expressed myself, found my purpose, and felt my place in the world, so losing ease in my own body meant losing something that had always told me who I was.

Finding My Way Back

In search of answers, I turned inward, and then outward, immersing myself in the full range of mind-body-spirit practices: yoga, meditation, mindfulness, breathwork, relaxation, Qi Gong, Pilates, and fitness. I was also raising my young autistic son during those years, and these same practices steadied me enough to show up for him the way he needed, patient, present, and grounded, even on the hardest days. What began as personal survival quietly became personal transformation, not a return to who I had been, but an evolution into someone more fully myself.

I came to understand that dance was never who I was, only something I did. What I was really doing through dance was sharing love, and the truth of who we are. My essence is eternal, unbounded by body or pain, and I can give and receive that same love in countless other forms. Dance had to loosen its hold before I could grow into the depth of what I'm here to give. It still occasionally breaks my heart to recall the freedom, exhilaration, and power I once felt in my body, and then I remember that this journey has crystallized something even more lasting: that we can access that same aliveness even while lying still.

From Studio to Home

I wanted to share what I had found, to guide others toward the quiet wisdom that lives within each of us, waiting patiently to be heard. An audience feels love from the outside in. Someone practicing embodies it from the inside out, deeper, richer, and sustained, not a moment witnessed, but one lived.

Part of what drives me is making this kind of bliss accessible to everyone, in every kind of body, so no one has to earn their way into it. I have found that bliss in peak physical condition, whirling through a triple pirouette, and I have found it again from the depths of pain and anxiety, when my body could barely move at all. If both places can hold the same harmony, I believe you can find your way there too, wherever you're starting from.

I became a certified Group Fitness Instructor with the American Council on Exercise and developed classes that fuse the modalities I had come to love most. When students began asking how they could access this work from home, the answer became Club Haven.

When Everything Changed at Once

Then my family and I moved across the country, and in that same season I watched a parent's health grow more fragile, began facing deeper parts of my own story I had never fully looked at, and stepped into perimenopause, all while building Club Haven from the ground up. The pain and fatigue in my body intensified, and I finally learned why: the original injury had gradually developed into complex scoliosis, a physical explanation for a struggle I had been carrying, in one form or another, for a long time. The anxiety I thought I had moved through grew overwhelming too, some days quieter than others, but never fully gone.

I went looking for something to hold onto, and leaned hard into a practice that turned out to be surprisingly familiar: my old pre-performance ritual had a name. Long before I ever heard the words Yoga Nidra, that private stillness backstage had already been leading me there. What arrived late in this journey wasn't the practice itself, but the language for it, and the chance to return to it fully, without a stage waiting on the other side.

This time, it gave me back that same feeling I first knew as a dancer, the very state of bliss this story opened with. And further in, I recognized something I had only glimpsed before in Qi Gong and meditation: the edges of myself softening until there was less a "me" having the experience, and more just the experience itself.

I didn't come to it to fix myself, but to come home: to a sense of wholeness, and to a steadier answer to the question of who and what I really am beneath all of it. Movement had been one door to bliss. This time, stillness was the door that came with a map, one I could finally use to guide someone else through, too.

Why I Show Up This Way

The pain and difficulty of life are real, and they continue. That doesn't mean I'm broken or failing, and it doesn't mean you are, either. It means we're courageous souls on this journey together, and we get to support one another along the way.

These practices are the companions I return to every single day, whether life feels heavy, uncertain, or simply full. They are how I navigate, and just as often, how I celebrate. That ongoing relationship, honest and imperfect and deeply sustaining, is exactly what I hope to share with you.

My intention is to keep living this way, letting my spirit rise to the surface of my skin to inform how I move, shape my thoughts, and guide my life, not as a place I've arrived, but as a practice I keep choosing. And honestly, it is every bit as expansive as tying on a pair of pointe shoes and releasing into a grand jeté.

We are so glad you found your way here.