Yvette Lehmann - Transformational Guide & Author

04/09/2026

There was a time when I came to yoga for the physical practice alone. I was drawn to the challenge, the strength, the shapes, and the discipline. Yet it did not take long before I began to sense that yoga was offering something far deeper than movement.

Through the challenge, I discovered the quiet magic of yoga. I found myself wondering about its roots, its history, its depth, and the wisdom it has carried through thousands of years. That curiosity opened a door, and once it opened, I wanted to keep walking through it.

That journey led me into the study and practice of Yin Yoga, meditation, restorative yoga, breathing techniques, mudras, chanting, and even Kundalini Yoga. Each path revealed another layer. Each practice offered a different way of understanding the body, the mind, the nervous system, and the self.

It is both an honour and a joy to now share that knowledge, wisdom, and lived experience with others who are arriving at yoga for reasons similar to my own. People who may begin with the body, only to discover something far more profound waiting for them.

And now, to be writing training manuals for Yin and Restorative Yoga from my own personal experience and perspective feels deeply meaningful. There is something beautiful about translating years of practice, study, and transformation into teachings that may help others find their own way in.

Yoga has given me so much more than I ever imagined when I first stepped onto the mat. Being able to pass that on feels like a privilege.

It is not too late to join us for Yin this Saturday and Sunday, or for Restorative Yoga on May 2 and 3. Two beautiful weekends. Two very different practices. So much wisdom waiting inside both.

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04/09/2026

A perspective I keep returning to in both life and writing:

What if our lives are not only a series of events to manage, endure, or optimize?

What if they are also a curriculum?

I’ve been exploring this in my newest essay, “She Remembered What It Felt Like to Glow.” The piece reflects on how love, loss, contrast, and bodily truth can reveal something deeper than circumstance alone: the themes our lives keep bringing us back to until we are finally able to see them clearly.

This doesn’t mean every difficult experience is “good,” or that pain should be spiritualized into something simplistic. It means that once we begin to view life through the lens of awakening and remembering, we often see more than surface events. We see pattern. We see contrast. We see where we come alive and where we drift from ourselves.

That is useful not only personally, but professionally and relationally.

Because once someone begins to understand their own curriculum, they stop reading their whole life as random or as failure. They start asking better questions. They live with more awareness. They make more conscious choices.

For me, that is one of the most meaningful parts of the second half of life.

If this resonates, the essay is here:
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Once a woman begins to understand that she is Spirit in human form, here to live a curriculum and not merely repeat a pattern, life opens.

How love, contrast, and the Great Remembering revealed a woman's curriculum

04/04/2026

There was something so powerful in the room at Brock Studio today.

On this Easter Friday, my heart is full of gratitude for every single person who chose to show up and practice. There is something deeply moving about people arriving as they are, laying down the weight of the week, and stepping onto the mat with presence, courage, and willingness.

Today’s practice became a practice of emptying.

We hear so often about holding it together, pushing through, carrying on, staying strong. Yet so many of us are holding so much in our thoughts, our feelings, our emotions, our bodies, that we do not even realize how full we have become. Overfull. Overheld. Overflowing with what has not been released.

And when we are that full, there is so little room left for the goodness. For love. For compassion. For clarity. For the quiet sense of wholeness that is always there, waiting beneath the noise.

We moved through much of the body, though the practice kept circling us back to the heart, front and back. That was not my plan, but sometimes the practice knows. Sometimes the room knows. Sometimes something greater is leading, and today it led us there.

The energy in the room felt strong, steady, open, and incredibly present. By the time we arrived in Wild Thing, it was as though everyone had become even bigger than themselves. Powerful. Alive. Brave. Open.

I left feeling so much gratitude and delight for the students who shared this practice today. Thank you for showing up. Thank you for your presence. Thank you for the energy, the trust, and the willingness to open.

What a beautiful way to begin this Easter weekend.

04/02/2026

This feels bigger than gratitude.

My heart is overflowing with love for everyone who has purchased one of my crystal resin geode art pieces. To know that something made with so much time, care, creativity, and heart will now hang on your walls and be admired daily by you, your family, and your friends moves me deeply.

Thank you for seeing my work.
Thank you for valuing what goes into each piece.
Thank you for receiving my art with such love.

My heart is so very full.

04/02/2026

A theme I’m hearing more and more from women in midlife:

“I just want to be alone.”

Not because they hate their families.
Not because everything is falling apart.
Not necessarily because they want to leave their lives.

Often, it’s because they’ve spent so many years being needed that there has been very little room left to hear themselves.

This feels especially relevant in the current structure many women live inside:
• the home as one full-time job
• paid work as another
• emotional and mental load as a third invisible shift

Children, meals, school forms, appointments, laundry, emotional management, remembering who needs what and when — none of that clocks out. Over time, many women become the atmosphere of the household without even realizing how much of themselves has gone missing inside that role.

My newest essay explores that territory:

Are You a Woman in Midlife Who Just Wants to Be Alone?

Why the longing for solitude is not always about leaving your life, but about finding yourself inside it again

The piece is about midlife, invisible labor, self-return, and the possibility that solitude is not rejection at all, but a healthy desire to reclaim one’s inner life.

If this resonates with your own experience or with women you know, you can read it here:
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I’m increasingly convinced that many women in midlife are not “withdrawing.”
They are trying to return to themselves before they vanish entirely inside everyone else’s needs.