Janet Stone Yoga

21/02/2026

It's unique that I get to connect with so many lives all across the world in deeply vulnerable moments.
It's rare to be able to sit across from you and talk, share, listen and this is what sparked my mentorship program. It was born from a desire to be able to dive in deeper, bring all the parts of your life to the conversation and support in the profound integration of the yoga teachings with our lives, purpose, work, projects and relationships.
It’s about finding harmony between intention, action, vision, and bring it all together with breath and groundedness to move with clarity as you take your next steps forward.
The mentorship program reflects my desire to bring my 20+ years of teaching yoga, running a multi-faceted business, and supporting others in finding their path as leaders, business heads, teachers, parents and creative forces in the world to the community in a more structured way.
Over 9 months we'll gather virtually, and the program will culminate in a long weekend immersion along the Columbia Gorge. This program will be small and intimate and limited to 16 participants.

Comment “Mentorship” and I’ll send you the details.

19/02/2026

SCHOLARSHIP POST

Not one person is unaffected in some way by what is unfolding on our planet. Each of us is doing our best to make sense of it and navigate the waters of isolation, anxiety, and hopefulness all that comes with a global pandemic, political/social unrest, and climate crisis.

Most likely we’ve all traveled through the varied attempts to manage our experience; from numbing out, reaching for altering substances, distractions, food, shows and social media, then reading, then mindfulness, then back again, then panic, then… The long months of disruption have allowed us to witness all of our coping mechanisms as they are tested, and at times exhausted.

Now what? We’re still here. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. This I, Me, My is still telling the story of my experience and how all of the world revolves around my internal dialogue. I’m still a puppet of my sensory preferences and the wild spin of my mind.

Just a few thousands of years ago, the scholar Patañjali attempted to synthesize the oral tradition of yoga into 195 concise aphorisms called the Yoga Sutras. The sutras were based upon the lineage of teachings that had evolved to support humans maneuvering through their human journey with all of its beauty, passion, and treacherousness.

So, that’s where I begin again and again...the EIGHT LIMBS.

The eight limbs are my compass, my guide, my navigation tools to return back to my grounded center amidst life’s wild ride.

This year, our journey through these tools takes on a greater weight as so many have found themselves lost in anxiety and confusion, swept away by the intensity of it all.

Through ancient teachings we have the chance to navigate toward healing, unwinding old habits and patterns, toward clarity, simplicity, and a deeper sense of purpose for this life and this specific time.

Share below and I’ll DM scholarship awardees on Monday February 23rd.

Which of the eight limbs do you feel would support you most in navigating this time and why?

11/02/2026

Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.
There are many ways to kneel and kiss the ground. - Rumi

2026 YTT begins FEBRUARY 15

09/02/2026

It feels as if someone reached over and turned up the volume to 11 and can cause  my system to feel saturated as if it’s tipped into a state of overwhelm. The constant barrage on our mental, emotional, and physical bodies is so normalized that slowing down can feel unnatural. Pausing to feel, to digest, to ask the harder questions, to actually listen for the answers…it requires courage in a culture built on acceleration, optimization and productivity.
If I’m honest, there’s a part of me that still resists slowing down. A part that prefers the sense of importance of busyness, the familiar momentum that keeps me slightly ahead of the more uncomfortable truths: that everything is impermanent, I can’t control what happens in the world, that my humanness can feel like a tangled mess of vulnerability.
It’s as if I have to force myself to slow my roll, to undo, unwind, and allow a soft rhythm to take over. At first it nearly feels as if my mind speeds up and can grips its loops tighter but eventually it begins to loosen and slow down. From there I can sense my wholeness again—mind, body, spirit weaving back into one conversation. Here! Here! Coming back to this breath, this moment and allowing the nervous system to rest and digest without gripping, without getting pulled into the endless drama loop.
Rest isn’t passive; it’s a reclamation. When we allow ourselves to settle, we begin to drop below the surface of habit—below the ways we’ve stayed busy to avoid heartbreak, old trauma, boredom, disconnection, or the quiet ache of not feeling fully alive. Only from this deeper ground can healing truly begin. Only here do we become capable of choosing differently.
And this healing isn’t just emotional or spiritual. In slowness, the body finally gets to do what it knows how to do: rebuild the immune system, restore the adrenals, repair what’s been frayed. In stillness, we remember our original intelligence.
Slowing down is not a retreat from life—it’s the way back into it.
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03/02/2026

Recently, my meditation time can feel like a flurry of grief, anger, and a deep sense of discomfort in all of the uncertainty.

The world — literally and figuratively — feels as though it is burning. Cruelty is loud. Fear travels fast. Even those who long for justice, kindness, and care can feel fractured, reactive and powered by outrage.

And so the question arises — quietly, insistently: What good does it do to sit here? How can stillness matter when there is so much that needs to change?

Practice is not denial, nor is it passivity. It is preparation.

When I slow down enough to feel what is actually here — the fear, the heartbreak, the urgency — I begin to regain clarity. My knee-jerk reaction is interrupted. It can strengthen my capacity to respond rather than react. I remember how to stand without hardening, how to act without burning myself out.

Staying centered in times like these is not indulgent. It’s an act of protest and sustainability. For the nervous system. For discernment. For EACH OTHER.

I continue to practice because it is how I remember who I am, and how I learn — again and again — how to meet this world with steadiness, courage, and compassion.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, uncertain, or exhausted, you are not alone.

19/01/2026

Retreat to Thailand
Koh Samui • March 28–April 4, 2026

There are moments when practice asks us to step away from the familiar, so we can listen more closely.

After eighteen years away, I’m returning to Thailand—to the island rhythms that once shaped me. The coconuts and curries, white sand and warm water, the bodywork, the culture, the people. This retreat is an invitation to slow down together, to soften, and to remember what’s essential.

We’ll move and breathe each day, let the nervous system settle, and allow the body to be nourished. Practice won’t be something we add on, but something we return to—held by the land, the sea, and the shared rhythm of being together.

If you feel the quiet pull toward practice, nature, and community, I would love to share this time with you.

08/01/2026

There is something different that happens when we gather in person.

Breath shared in the same room.
Voices chanting together.
Practice unfolding not on a screen, but in real time, with real bodies, real life moving around us.

In 2026, I’ll be returning to a few sacred places (and visiting some new ones) to practice together—slowly, intentionally, and in relationship with the land and with one another.

These gatherings are about remembering.
Listening more closely.
Letting practice meet us exactly where we are.

Come join me near or far.

.room

07/01/2026

It’s as simple as paying attention to the little moments in between.

Beginning the year with the art and practice of paying attention.

#2026

06/01/2026

If I have another breath, I can start again.

If we have another breath, WE can begin again.

Waking up is never more than a breath away. Through the simple, humbling practice of beginning again, I can return to this moment—to the power of this very breath—and realign with what matters most.

My teachers reminded me endlessly: we begin again by remembering the incredible gift of this moment. I noticed that if I can soften the self-criticism when I wander off the path, and gently return to my intention then I can recalibrate my moment-to-moment choices.
This is why I’m offering a 6:30am sadhana practice—a way to begin again at the start of the year, together.

Not to perfect ourselves, but to build an attainable home practice that creates strength and stability amidst the chaos of daily life.

What makes this work isn’t willpower alone—it’s community. Showing up live. Breathing together. Remembering, again and again, that we’re not doing this alone.

Does awakening stay? In my experience… no. And that’s why I remain devoted to the practice of beginning again. And again. And again.

Join me at .room the studio I’ve taught at for over 25 years as we begin—together.

BEGIN AGAIN: A yoga journey
Jan 17-23
6:30-8:30am
At Castroroom, SF + virtual

Over one week, we’ll recommit (or just commit) to a pre-dawn practice including meditation, pranayama, asana, bhakti, and dharma talks. We’ll look at our samskaras—our undigested experiences that create deep grooves, patterns, habits, addictions.