STUDENT SPOTLIGHT
Whether they know it or not most students are seeking more than the physical health benefits of a regular yoga practice. Each student's unique narrative encompasses a range of the realities of human existence (the mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical aspects of life). A sense of connection into the universal human experience is often found when we come together to practice in community.
Heather McMahon: A Life Devoted to Healing
An interview by Ken Romano
About the Author:
Ken Remano is currently completing his 200 hour teacher training and will receive his certification in the spring of 2026. No stranger to the studio, Ken is a dedicated practitioner who looks forward to sharing his practice as a teacher. The following is Ken’s interview on Heather.
**
The youngest of seven children, Heather recalls placing her hands on her brother’s shoulder after baseball practice and telling him, “I’m healing you.” It was an innate calling, one that would turn into her professional path as a holistic practitioner for the last 31 years. We discussed her journey over a large coffee and a small chai latte at Cafe Duet off Main Street in Stroudsburg.
Heather jokes that she is the “only child of seven,” given her siblings are between seven and eighteen years older than her. Her parents grew up during the Great Depression, which had a strong imprint. There was never any waste, and they lived modestly. But there was always a lovely meal on the table.
Her family was active in the Democratic Party in Philadelphia politics, and from a young age, she would hear heavy discussions around the dinner table. Between those “adult” conversations and growing up with siblings much older than her, one might wonder if that forced her to grow up too fast. Did she miss out on being a kid? “I’m still a kid. I’m the one in the back of class giggling.”
But those early days instilled a foundation of generosity and principle. Her parents would regularly invite strangers into their home for a warm meal or to help them find work. They stood for their principles. They did not stand against anything, which Heather ties back to her healing work today. Standing for something creates positive vibrations in your life, a practice she incorporates with her clients.
Around age ten, Heather’s parents decided to move the family “to the mountains,” and aside from a brief stint in California, the Stroudsburg area has been her home since then. Heather has built a beautiful life for herself in the mountains with her family of four and her holistic healing practice.
When she met Peter and his daughter Chelsea, she was not intent on getting married right away. She was concentrating on her own self and her own growth. But we know how these stories end. The universe had another plan, and Heather and Peter have been happily married for thirty six years. With the addition of their daughter Teri, they became a family of four.
Heather takes immense pride in helping her clients through deep emotional releases via methods like therapeutic massage, reiki, and chakra realignment. Not just on the table but also through lifestyle and diet changes. Her face lights up when she talks about the people she has helped.
As a professional healer, there is of course concern that all of Heather’s energy is going toward healing others. What about herself? That is where Heather’s yoga and meditation practice comes into play.
She believes strongly in setting up an atmosphere of calm to start the day. She smudges her home office, sinks into her chair, and meditates.
It is her way of creating space for herself. “Not only do we deserve it, we crave it,” she says. She has had an active yoga practice for over twenty five years. Her physical asana practice at home is primarily in microbursts throughout the day. A five minute mountain pose at the start of the day or in between clients. Rollit ball work on her fascia in the evenings.
Her extended asana practice is primarily in studio, gravitating toward yin and gentle flow classes (likely giggling in the back of class). These are the styles she feels most comfortable with and that provide the most benefit to her mind and body. And after twenty five years, if there is one way her practice has evolved, it is that she is not worried about doing the “fancy” poses. She does not worry about proving herself to others. It is her practice. The meditative aspects of Heather’s practice hearken back to the origins of yoga and “sitting still.”
Heather is quick to remind us that “traditional” meditation is not for everyone. Her husband Peter rebuilds cars and hikes, two activities that allow him to create space for himself. Music has played a large role in Heather and her family’s life. From Peter’s work crafting musical equipment for The Grateful Dead and other prolific musicians, to forming a small “family band” to sing and play at local churches when their daughters were growing up. Music changes our frequency and makes us all a bit calmer and gentler with each other.
Heather truly believes in finding what works for you, what can allow you to ground your energy, to let go of past emotional baggage, to remove energy blockages, and to prevent future physical and emotional pain. For Heather, “balancing chakras constantly” is not just something she does. It is how she lives: staying attuned to the flow of energy, emotion, and intention in everyday life.
Ken Remano is currently completing his 200 hour teacher training and will receive his certification in the spring of 2026. No stranger to the studio, Ken is a dedicated practitioner who looks forward to sharing his practice as a teacher. The following is Ken’s interview on Heather.
**
The youngest of seven children, Heather recalls placing her hands on her brother’s shoulder after baseball practice and telling him, “I’m healing you.” It was an innate calling, one that would turn into her professional path as a holistic practitioner for the last 31 years. We discussed her journey over a large coffee and a small chai latte at Cafe Duet off Main Street in Stroudsburg.
Heather jokes that she is the “only child of seven,” given her siblings are between seven and eighteen years older than her. Her parents grew up during the Great Depression, which had a strong imprint. There was never any waste, and they lived modestly. But there was always a lovely meal on the table.
Her family was active in the Democratic Party in Philadelphia politics, and from a young age, she would hear heavy discussions around the dinner table. Between those “adult” conversations and growing up with siblings much older than her, one might wonder if that forced her to grow up too fast. Did she miss out on being a kid? “I’m still a kid. I’m the one in the back of class giggling.”
But those early days instilled a foundation of generosity and principle. Her parents would regularly invite strangers into their home for a warm meal or to help them find work. They stood for their principles. They did not stand against anything, which Heather ties back to her healing work today. Standing for something creates positive vibrations in your life, a practice she incorporates with her clients.
Around age ten, Heather’s parents decided to move the family “to the mountains,” and aside from a brief stint in California, the Stroudsburg area has been her home since then. Heather has built a beautiful life for herself in the mountains with her family of four and her holistic healing practice.
When she met Peter and his daughter Chelsea, she was not intent on getting married right away. She was concentrating on her own self and her own growth. But we know how these stories end. The universe had another plan, and Heather and Peter have been happily married for thirty six years. With the addition of their daughter Teri, they became a family of four.
Heather takes immense pride in helping her clients through deep emotional releases via methods like therapeutic massage, reiki, and chakra realignment. Not just on the table but also through lifestyle and diet changes. Her face lights up when she talks about the people she has helped.
As a professional healer, there is of course concern that all of Heather’s energy is going toward healing others. What about herself? That is where Heather’s yoga and meditation practice comes into play.
She believes strongly in setting up an atmosphere of calm to start the day. She smudges her home office, sinks into her chair, and meditates.
It is her way of creating space for herself. “Not only do we deserve it, we crave it,” she says. She has had an active yoga practice for over twenty five years. Her physical asana practice at home is primarily in microbursts throughout the day. A five minute mountain pose at the start of the day or in between clients. Rollit ball work on her fascia in the evenings.
Her extended asana practice is primarily in studio, gravitating toward yin and gentle flow classes (likely giggling in the back of class). These are the styles she feels most comfortable with and that provide the most benefit to her mind and body. And after twenty five years, if there is one way her practice has evolved, it is that she is not worried about doing the “fancy” poses. She does not worry about proving herself to others. It is her practice. The meditative aspects of Heather’s practice hearken back to the origins of yoga and “sitting still.”
Heather is quick to remind us that “traditional” meditation is not for everyone. Her husband Peter rebuilds cars and hikes, two activities that allow him to create space for himself. Music has played a large role in Heather and her family’s life. From Peter’s work crafting musical equipment for The Grateful Dead and other prolific musicians, to forming a small “family band” to sing and play at local churches when their daughters were growing up. Music changes our frequency and makes us all a bit calmer and gentler with each other.
Heather truly believes in finding what works for you, what can allow you to ground your energy, to let go of past emotional baggage, to remove energy blockages, and to prevent future physical and emotional pain. For Heather, “balancing chakras constantly” is not just something she does. It is how she lives: staying attuned to the flow of energy, emotion, and intention in everyday life.
"It was my deepest honor and such a delight to interview Susan Frantz! This interview is a long form and is filled with her rich and beautiful experience. So, grab a cup of tea, sit back and enjoy her wonderful insights." ~Chris Loebsack
Susan Frantz
Interview by Chris Loebsack
Chris: I’m excited to sit with you and cover the incredible history we’ve shared over the years—both in yoga and in friendship. One of the things we’ve been doing this year is highlighting students who have had a long history with the practice. It’s a way to share their stories and also help newer students understand what a lifelong practice looks like.Many people come to yoga thinking of it as just exercise or something small, but for those who have kept it going for decades, it becomes something much deeper.
To start, tell me a little about yourself—your background before yoga—and we’ll take it from there.
Susan: I started practicing yoga about 28 years ago. My son was two at the time, and I had another child who was nine years older. I also had a full-time career and a lot going on. I think it’s fair to say I was a bit of a lost soul. I had a difficult upbringing to work through.
Chris: Were you born and raised in this area, or did you move to the Poconos?
Susan: I was born and raised on Brigantine Island in New Jersey, so I’m an island girl. I grew up surfing and sailing, surrounded by the natural wonder of the ocean—waking up each day to see what the tide brought in. I moved to this area after going to school in Kutztown, where I met my husband. He’s from here, so after college we decided to settle in the Poconos near his family. My family all lives in Northern California.
Growing up on Brigantine Island, walking was a big part of life. You could walk from one end of the island to the other—it was magical. When I moved here, I felt lost. I missed the ocean, the horizon line, the sense of containment that comes from being surrounded by water. Eventually, I discovered the Appalachian Trail and started walking there. Walking has always been meditative for me. As a kid, I’d take the dog for long walks on Saturday mornings, just the two of us. The Appalachian Trail gave me that same feeling of peace, but even that wasn’t enough to manage my stress at the time.
Chris: Did you get a teaching job right away when you moved to the Poconos, or was there a period of time in between?
Susan: There was a short period after I graduated college. I moved here and worked as a waitress and food server for a while. It wasn’t long after that that I got a teaching job in the area.
Chris: Your background was primarily in art, and that was from Kutztown University, right?
Susan: Right. When I was a kid, my mother kept a book on yoga in her bedside table. At that time, I couldn’t get enough to read. I was one of those kids who always had a book in hand—reading at an adult level even as a child. I remember opening that yoga book and going through the poses. I had forgotten all about it until one day, years later, I was walking past a window downtown and saw a sign for a yoga class taught by MIchelle Megargle. Something about it drew me in. I don’t know exactly why—maybe it was the memory of that book—but I decided to sign up for the class. It was the physical aspect of yoga that first pulled me in, and that’s why I always say all yoga is good yoga. The physical practice was what I needed at the time, but the philosophy of yoga is what kept me there.
I started practicing regularly, though with my family and my husband traveling a lot, I only had one night a week out of the house. I kept that up for two years, still studying with Michelle. Then I heard about a yoga teacher training program through Kripalu. They were running a pilot program at a studio in New Jersey, and I thought, “I’d really like to do that.”
Two years into my practice, I enrolled in that training. My teacher was Yoganand, and the experience was life-changing. I finished the program right around 9/11, and it deeply shaped my path. Since then, I’ve continued to study and practice—through self-study, workshops, and ongoing learning.
Chris: Can you share more about your personal practice at that time—your mental state or how you embodied the practice as you entered teacher training?
Susan: Physically, yoga was essential for me. If I hadn’t found it, I think I would have been completely overwhelmed by stress. You know that scene in Mommie Dearest where Joan Crawford is in the rose garden cutting off the heads of roses with big scissors? That would have been me. I just wasn’t managing my stress well before yoga. The practice gave me a way to channel that energy and find balance.
Chris: At that time, if we were talking about Ayurvedic doshas—Pitta, Kapha, or Vata—where do you think you would have fit in as a student?
Susan: Oh, definitely Pitta: fiery—very fiery. When I started my Ashtanga practice, that’s when I first experienced true relaxation—at the end of class. I had to burn it out. That intensity was what I needed to find calm.
In my art classroom, I saw about 700 kids a year. You can’t bring chaotic energy into that environment unless you want it magnified 700 times. So I had to learn to manage my energy.
Yoganand at Kripalu was known for his pranayama and breathing practices, and I really connected with that. The breathing aspect, even more than the physical, transformed my energy from chaotic to calm.
My childhood environment was often toxic, so I wanted to create something different—a healthy classroom, a healthy family, and a healthy way of meeting the world. Through pranayama, meditation, and the practice of burning out stress, along with working with the yamas and niyamas, I found clarity in how I wanted to live. It was life-changing, and that’s what has kept me with yoga all these years. It’s been interesting to watch yoga evolve over the past 28 years. Many studios now focus solely on the physical aspect, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, for me, it’s the other components—the breath-work, meditation, and philosophy—that made my practice sacred.
Chris: Did you always know early on what kind of work you wanted to do in the arts?
Susan: Yes, by the time I was in third grade, I knew I wanted to go into the arts. My mother was an untrained artist. She had six kids in seven years, and she painted constantly. We’d talk to her while she painted, and she’d just nod, completely absorbed in her work. That was her bliss. I was drawn to that same creative energy. It started as more than a hobby—it became a true passion. I originally thought I’d go into fashion design, but I ended up in art education, which turned out to be the perfect career for me. I really loved it.
Chris:What is it that you love so much about being an educator?
Susan: The “aha” moments. Seeing a student’s realization or breakthrough was everything. My approach to teaching art was always therapeutic. If a student struggled with self-esteem, I’d have them do a self-portrait. Everyone would get a mirror and really look at themselves. It was powerful to see how that process helped them grow. It was rewarding to meet each student where they were and build from there. I never expected everyone to pursue art the way I did, but I wanted them to love it in their own way. My goal was always to build kids up—to help them see their own creativity and worth. It was absolutely the right career for me. I loved spending time with kids because they see the world with such fresh, curious eyes.
Chris: How has art influenced your yoga, or how has yoga influenced your art?
Susan: Oh, very much so. One of my favorite things to do is life drawing. I’ve been doing it throughout my entire career, and it continually sharpens my skills. Drawing the human figure is one of the hardest things to capture—the nuance, the light and shadow, the softness. There aren’t many hard lines; it’s all about subtle transitions. When you study the human body that closely, you start to see it as a masterpiece—something truly beautiful. Whether or not I’d want a figure drawing hanging on my wall all day is another story, but as an artist, it helps me see the beauty of the human form in quiet, natural moments.
Chris: Do you think that gave you a different perspective on the human body once you became a yoga teacher?
Susan: Absolutely. You start to see where people hold tension and where they are relaxed. Now that I’m not teaching yoga, I try not to notice what’s going on in other people’s bodies—but after years of life drawing and yoga training, it’s hard not to observe and to unsee. These days, I focus more on my own practice—what’s happening within me on my mat.
Chris: Once you moved to the Poconos and completed your training through the Kripalu-affiliated program in New Jersey, did you start teaching yoga right away, or was it more for your own experience?
Susan: I went all in. I really wanted to change the world—no small feat! I was completely immersed in it. But, as I tend to do, I took on too much. I had two young children, a full-time teaching career, and a husband who traveled nearly three months out of the year.
Chris: So, to clarify—you were teaching full-time as an art teacher to about 700 students a year, raising two children, with a husband who traveled frequently, and teaching yoga classes at night—all while working on your master’s degree?
Susan: Yes, exactly. It was a lot. Eventually, I had to scale back. Teaching yoga fueled my self-study, though—it was just like building a lesson plan for art. I loved creating new ways to explore concepts and deepen understanding. I kept at least one class a week because it kept me connected to my practice. Teaching helped me understand yoga more deeply, and my students were just as much my teachers as I was theirs. As my kids grew older and more independent, and once I finished my master’s, I was able to take on a bit more again. But yes, I went all in—just as I always do.
Chris: And where were you teaching your classes at the time?
Susan: I taught classes privately for a while to a group of retirees. I also taught at some local studios and school teachers.
I started teaching by donation. My colleagues donated, and I donated elsewhere. I believe there needs to be an exchange for appreciation or respect.
Chris: I remember meeting you at Sundari Yoga in East Stroudsburg, off Milford Road. I also studied with Michelle around the same time. You completed your teacher training before I did.
Susan: I think I met you around that time. I wasn't sure who taught where, as there were many crossovers. I couldn't remember if you taught at that location. I taught at the East Stroudsburg location when it was above the Chinese food store on Crystal Street. I also taught at Yoga House when they first opened, and I taught at school one day a week and had an art studio.
Chris: With all that self-study, how has that changed your personal relationships?
Susan: I now spend more time listening. I take a deep breath and digest information.
Listening is everything. This change is due to the Yamas (ethical disciplines) and Niyamas (personal observances) *Philosophy from the yoga Sutras of Patanjali. I pause and integrate how I meet each moment.
There's a pause between poses, where I integrate. It is an integration of taking it in, integrating, and then moving on. It is the same with confrontation: listen, pause, and integrate.
Chris: You mentioned some tumultuous times. How did that help you reconcile or process those pieces? You mentioned digestion. What does that look or feel like to you?
Susan: Through lots of counseling, I could see where I've been, who I've been, and how I am affected by things. I acknowledge and move on. Lots of help from the community and mental health. Paying attention to mental health is best done through meditation. You'll feel all kinds of things. It's like unpacking suitcases. You're going to feel a lot. It's about staying with it and following it. The drive to stay with it was not shutting the door when things came up.
Chris: What would you say was your drive, or what gave you the courage to stay with the practice when times got tough?
Susan: I wanted to be a better person. That was my motivation. I wanted to show up for the people I cared about—especially my kids.
When I came into my marriage, I didn’t have any tools in my toolbox. I hadn’t developed relational skills. I grew up seeing a lot of pain and unhealthy interactions—really the opposite of what I wanted for my own life. It was chaotic, and I knew there had to be a better way. Yoga and self-work seemed like that better way. People have told me I was courageous for sticking with it, but honestly, I can’t imagine not doing the work. I couldn’t live the way I had seen growing up. My life is so much richer now, and my relationships are so much healthier than what I witnessed as a child.
It’s also about accountability—being able to sit with what’s happened, process it, and still say, “I’m the one who wants to make the change.” The people I grew up with—my family of origin—were doing the best they could with what they had. Their toolboxes were empty too. I just inherited that emptiness and had to learn to fill mine with skills for building healthy relationships and living a more peaceful life.
Chris That must have influenced how you approached motherhood.
Susan: Yes, absolutely. But I don’t want to make it sound like I was the perfect parent—there’s no such thing. Like any parent, I’ve made mistakes. Sometimes I find out about them years later, and all I can do is say, “I’m sorry.” The best I can hope for is that my kids will do better with their own families because they know more now. That’s really all any of us can do—our best with what we have at the time, and then keep trying to do better as we learn and grow.
Chris: Let's fast forward to your 300hr yoga program (advanced program) and life at that time.
Susan: A period of time followed when the 300-hour program began. Health issues then emerged. The story is explored because, months before, the conversation revealed a lot about that moment and potential discoveries. Yoga and meditation practices are why the Iam here today. An MRI was received for the 50th birthday.
The reason for the MRI was the 300-hour program. It involved a discussion about meditation and starting a practice. My life was already full, so they had to wake up earlier to meditate. I was dedicated to this practice.
A timer was set. Then, a feeling arose that something was wrong. This feeling began to affect my entire life.
I had always been fortunate. My son was a teenager and experiencing hormonal changes and we would ride bicycles together on the McDade Trail. I was very active. Suddenly, energy felt like it was leaking. Everything was difficult.
Each morning, the I meditated, and it I was giving away possessions in my mind. It was bizarre. I stopped wearing jewelry. I went back to the breathing count, and my mind went to a specific area.
I started noticing symptoms—loss of appetite, dry mouth—and mentioned them to my dentist. He suggested I see a specialist to explore what was going on. The first head and neck doctor I saw dismissed me, saying it was probably just a menopausal symptom.
I kept up my meditation practice, but the symptoms continued. Eventually, I saw another specialist who ordered an MRI. On my 50th birthday, I went in for the scan, and that’s when they found a tumor in my parotid salivary gland. They told me it was probably nothing—smooth and round, likely benign—but they wanted to do a biopsy just to be sure. I was sent to Philadelphia, and the nurse there reassured me that the doctor didn’t think it was anything serious. I was nervous and told my husband I wanted to leave. He looked at me and said, “Sue, I drove you all the way down here. Just do it.”
So, I did. And thank goodness I did, because the biopsy showed it was stage two cancer. It wasn’t treated with chemotherapy but required radiation. Looking back, I realize my meditation practice was alerting me that something was wrong. I kept feeling this “energy leak” in my body, and I couldn’t explain it. My intuition was right.
Chris: I’m so grateful your husband encouraged you to stay. It’s so common to want answers but then back away when they’re right in front of us.
Susan: Yes, absolutely. I was ready to walk out—I thought the whole thing was barbaric. The surgery itself was very intricate; they had to pull back part of my face to reach the tumor. By the time it was scheduled, I still didn’t fully grasp that it was cancer. I even told the doctor, “I think this is all in my head,” and he said, “It’s all in your head, all right.” After surgery came six weeks of daily radiation treatments in Philadelphia. It was exhausting—like a full-time job. During that time, I had to let go of my 300-hour yoga training. It was hard, but it was the right decision.
I was beating myself up about it until a good friend printed out a certificate for me that said, “You go, girl—you’ve accomplished so much.” It was a beautiful reminder that sometimes letting go is also an achievement. "Okay, you’ve done it.” And she was right. I had been beating myself up because I always try to complete everything I start.
When I was younger, I had a bad habit of not finishing things. My mother used to tell me, “You have a problem with not completing what you start.” She passed away when I was very young, but I still hear her voice reminding me to finish what I begin. So, I was really upset with myself for not completing the 300-hour program.
But it was what I needed at the time. Life had given me a different chapter to finish—taking care of my health. That had to be the priority. My yoga and meditation practices helped me recognize that something was wrong in my body. That “energy leak” I felt was real, even though I couldn’t explain it.
Chris: Those six weeks must have been daunting—driving back and forth to Philadelphia every day, two hours each way if traffic was good, plus all the time in the hospital.
Susan: It was exhausting. I was on high doses of nerve blockers, so I couldn’t drive myself. Someone always had to take me. But that’s where community came in—those precious moments with people who cared for me.
There was one person in particular who was incredibly gracious about giving me rides. It wasn’t always easy—two hours there and two hours back, especially when I was tired and going through treatments—but I was so touched by his kindness. I reminded myself to focus on that: this was someone with a good heart, even if we didn’t see eye to eye on everything.
Chris: That feels like a reflection of our times—how many people we know may not align with us on everything, but we can still find the heart in them.
Susan: Exactly. It’s a discipline, and it’s not easy. But it’s one of the great meditations of our time—to see the heart in others, even when we disagree.
That period of my life was incredibly challenging, but it was also deeply transformative. Cancer became my teacher.
Chris: How long were the follow up treatments?
Susan: Follow-up treatments were administered for five years. I was monitored, and there were no recurrences. My cancer was a rare primary cancer, occurring in one out of one hundred thousand cases, as it is usually a secondary cancer. During that period, a lump was discovered in my breast. It was initially believed to be the primary cancer, breast cancer. A biopsy was performed. The lump turned out to be fibrous breasts caused by caffeine.
For 30 years, I worked with clay in an ventilated room with clay dust.
Chris: How did your perspective change after the cancer?
Susan: I considered what they might have done wrong emotionally. I had always followed a strict regimen, including a sugar-free, dairy-free, and meat-free diet, yoga, and meditation. Despite adhering to this regimen, I developed cancer. I was working so hard to be invincible and I had to wrestle with the thought "I'm not that powerful." People get sick. The environment is polluted. Sometimes, illness is simply due to chance. People get sick, and that is a part of life. Birth, life, and death are all parts of life.
I decided to start drinking. If I wanted a glass of wine, I would no longer deny myself. However, I wouldn't drink five glasses; MODERATION!
Now I follow a middle way approach and do not take things too seriously.If I want a chocolate chip cookie, I will have one, as long as it's not four boxes every hour.
I knew an instructor who would criticize herself for drinking coffee. Instead, I thought, "Do you like coffee? Have a cup of coffee. Don't beat yourself up over a cup of coffee." Yoga is meant to quiet the mind. If the mental chatter involves constant self-criticism over social activities like having coffee with friends, then the person may be moving further away from the benefits of yoga.
I previously denied myself a glass of wine with meals because they thought it was healthier. Now,I embraces the middle way.
It has been a journey, but my yoga practice has worked to bring me into better balance.
Chris: How has your yoga practice changed over the years—from that Ashtanga “turn and burn” style to where you are in your current phase?
Susan: In my current phase, I know what I like, and I know what I need.
Living part-time in Southern California, I often go to studios where classes are heated. It’s been difficult to find unheated classes. I like a little warmth in the room, but once it gets over 100 degrees, I don’t enjoy it. I’ve almost passed out or felt sick in those classes. Being menopausal, all that extra heat and the hot flashes don’t help me at all. I once asked a studio owner about unheated classes, and she said, “But your fascia needs all that heat.” Without missing a beat, I replied, “My fascia is fine, thank you very much.” If I want to work on something that feels tight or impinged, I’ll do some static stretching. Knowing my body and what I need, I’ve realized that nobody needs to be at a fever pitch just to stretch. I can still enjoy postures that my body loved when I was younger, but with just a little heat—not too much. Once it’s over 100 degrees, I’m out.
I’m not interested in someone telling me what I need. After all these years, I know what works for me. I think that’s one of the greatest marks of being a teacher—helping students find what works for them, rather than imposing our own ideas on them.
I also love the community of yoga—the one we’ve created together. It takes everyone to build that sense of connection. I truly love that community.
As for my personal practice, I try to do yoga two days a week on my own. That’s when I can really quiet my mind and tune into my body. After more than 30 years of practice, I’m much more self-directed. My flow is intuitive—if one area feels like it needs more attention, I stay there longer. I still need that self-practice time, one or two days a week, and then I go to the studio to enjoy the community. I love a good smile or laugh in the middle of class and try not to take it all too seriously. That’s how I stay connected to my meditation practice as well.
Chris: You’ve been going back and forth between California and the Poconos for quite some time now. How long has it been?
Susan: It’s been about eight years—far too long! It’s been an interesting journey.
Chris: What did you learn about yourself being out in California that might have been different from staying here?
Susan: I thank God for my yoga practice. My husband had been commuting from Pennsylvania to Los Angeles for 19 years—about once every two months for a couple of weeks at a time. Then, all of a sudden, they wanted him full-time. We finally moved into our house in February, and then the whole country shut down in March 2020. We were completely isolated—just the two of us out there.
I feel like CA is so big, even in my neighborhood, which I live in. A very nice little neighborhood. I don't see people, I don't see my neighbors like it is so big and so vast that it's hard to find at home.
Chris: Do you still have the house in Water Gap?
Susan: Yes, this is my home and where my community is. My life is Poconos, and I raised my children here.
California is lovely, with great weather. One can ski in the morning and surf in the afternoon. It is an amazing place, but the younger self would have adored it. This part of myself prefers something quieter, a more introspective world. This part of me wants to grow old with some of the people I have in the area. It's a quieter, gentler experience. I am looking forward to being there full time.
That will happen within the next year. I go back and forth with a dog. I come back here for three months trying to get the house ready for retirement.
Chris: What does that vision look like, getting that at-home space?
Susan: Well, a place to make art. Setting up a place to make art. I'm 62. Life is changing. My yoga practice is changing as well.
I ran into my friend Rita Barricona. She was in Michelle McGargle's class. It's amazing how many of us all started with the Michelle McGargle contingent.
Chris: Michelle was an amazing teacher. She created consistency because she would only let you buy these two-month packages that were "use it or lose it." And on that day, at that time every week. I remember when I went to college and had a class that wasn't going to be offered any other time. She would say, "you can either buy your slot and not show up, and I will hold your slot for next semester, but if you give that slot up, I have a waiting list, and I don't know if I'll get you back into this time slot." She had her spaces, and it held people accountable. I think that was part of building that tapas, that austerity and practice for us.
Susan: Yes! I met Rita there, and she said to me, "I'm doing old lady yoga now." And I asked, "What does that mean?" She said, "Appropriate for where she's at now."
I loved Ashtanga yoga. It made me a better person because I needed to burn off all the angst. I needed to burn off the angst and the anger about how we were raised, and my own situation, and not having tools. I needed to burn that up. But I don't need that now. I'm not interested in beating the crap out of myself. I want to feel good when I walk out the door. I use my props. I think of them as good friends that are just there to assist me.
So, I've been using my props and using whatever I need. It's like an arsenal. There is an incredible amount of acceptance, and it's not a giving up; it's more of a celebration of where you are. It's a celebration of where you are, and I know that when I do my personal practice, I'll spend a little longer with my hips. The more I can relax into pigeon pose, the more I build my little space so that I can really just relax in pigeon for a length of time and try to loosen up all that. I haven't given up, I just know I need to spend a little more time in those areas.
Chris: Do you ever think about going back to teaching, or are you in a phase of returning to and remaining in your studentship?
Susan: I would like to teach again—both art and yoga—but definitely not in a public school setting. I love teaching yoga, and I believe that when the time is right, the universe will guide me back to it.
Chris: I remember asking you about teaching for us at Boundless about ten years ago. At that time, you were so busy—you had over 700 students a day and said you’d had enough teaching.
Susan: Yes, that’s true. But now I do miss it. I love the creativity. Teaching feels like art in motion to me. I’d love to teach again—probably something like “old lady yoga.” Honestly, I don’t know how people don’t stretch. I wouldn’t be able to move if I didn’t.
Chris: I think some people are afraid to confront how much mobility they’ve lost. It’s common for beginners to feel intimidated. Some even call to ask if they’re “good enough” for a beginner’s class or sit in the parking lot multiple times before walking in. They see all the flashy poses online and think that’s what yoga is.
Susan: Exactly. That’s such a glorified part of yoga, but the practice is so much broader. Maybe I’ll do what my friend Rita calls “old lady yoga.” Or maybe I’ll revive a class Brian Davis once taught called “Yoga for Stiff Dudes”—though I’d rename it “Yoga for Stiff People.” We’ll loosen everyone up!
Chris: I love that.
Susan: I suspect that even if I lose my mind someday, I’ll still remember my yoga practice.
I had an interesting experience taking a yoga class in Northern California, off the grid, at a small community center. The woman teaching was so gracious. She looked at me and said, “You’ve had some very good teachers.” I told her she was right—I’ve had amazing teachers. I noticed she had everything written down and taught beautifully.
Later, I learned she was in her 80s and struggling with dementia. She had studied with some well-known teachers and lived not far from my brother. He told me she was having memory issues, but she was using strategies to keep teaching. She led a beautiful class. I thought, imagine the difference if she weren’t engaging her mind, moving her body, and connecting with her community. Would she even be here, thriving in her 80s? She became my hero that day. I loved her spirit and the grace she brought to her teaching.
That’ll be me someday—and probably you too.
Interviewer: Do you ever think about going back to teaching, or are you in a phase of returning to and remaining in your studentship?
Interviewee: I would like to teach again—both art and yoga—but definitely not in a public school setting. I love teaching yoga, and I believe that when the time is right, the universe will guide me back to it.
Interviewer: I remember asking you about teaching about ten years ago. At that time, you were so busy—you had over 700 students a day and said you’d had enough teaching.
Interviewee: Yes, that’s true. But now I do miss it. I love the creativity. Teaching feels like art in motion to me. I’d love to teach again—probably something like “old lady yoga.” Honestly, I don’t know how people don’t stretch. I wouldn’t be able to move if I didn’t.
Interviewer: I think some people are afraid to confront how much mobility they’ve lost. It’s common for beginners to feel intimidated. Some even call to ask if they’re “good enough” for a beginner’s class or sit in the parking lot multiple times before walking in. They see all the flashy poses online and think that’s what yoga is.
Interviewee: Exactly. That’s such a glorified part of yoga, but the practice is so much broader. Maybe I’ll do what my friend Rita calls “old lady yoga.” Or maybe I’ll revive a class Brian once taught called “Yoga for Stiff Dudes”—though I’d rename it “Yoga for Stiff People.” We’ll loosen everyone up!
Interviewer: I love that.
Interviewee: I suspect that even if I lose my mind someday, I’ll still remember my yoga practice.
I had an interesting experience taking a yoga class in Northern California, off the grid, at a small community center. The woman teaching was so gracious. She looked at me and said, “You’ve had some very good teachers.” I told her she was right—I’ve had amazing teachers.
I noticed she had everything written down and taught beautifully. Later, I learned she was in her 80s and struggling with dementia. She had studied with some well-known teachers and lived not far from my brother. He told me she was having memory issues, but she was using strategies to keep teaching.
She led a beautiful class. I thought, imagine the difference if she weren’t engaging her mind, moving her body, and connecting with her community. Would she even be here, thriving in her 80s? She became my hero that day. I loved her spirit and the grace she brought to her teaching.
That’ll be me someday—and probably you too.
Chris: I can see it. I don’t see it slowing down anytime soon. It’s funny because I’ll be 54 this coming year, and it’s an interesting shift. I don’t know if this happened to you, but I almost feel better than I did in my 20s. I’m more settled in my mindset, and all that meditation and breathwork have really grounded me. I’m in a good place, but at the same time, I’m aware that I’m on the shorter side of my lifespan rather than the longer side. That awareness sharpens my focus on what’s truly important.
Susan: Yes, absolutely. I’m much more intentional about where I give my energy and what I choose not to participate in. It’s incredible. It’s also inspiring that so many of us have been on this journey together—not just individually on our own mats, but collectively. I think you might have even been at the very first class I ever taught.
Chris: I think so! That was at Sundari, right?
Susan: Yes, in 2003. And here we are in 2025, still practicing and sharing together. That’s so special.
Chris: It really is. The people in the room—Mark, Christine, and so many others—make it even more meaningful. I’ve been apologizing for my long arms and legs for years, always bumping into someone! But it’s wonderful to see new faces and such a wide generational span in the practice.
Susan: I love that too. The younger generation brings such energy and enthusiasm to the room. I might not be in that phase anymore, but I remember it well—that feeling of discovery, realizing, “This really works for me.” I love seeing that spark in others, and the community you’ve cultivated is beautiful.
Chris: Thank you. I may hold space in the building and organize the schedule, but it’s really everyone who shows up that creates the energy. I’ve practiced in so many different spaces and towns, and each one feels unique. The people who come together shape the community and determine how it thrives.
Susan: Exactly—it’s all about community. Yes, it’s been a great journey. Thank you for bringing it all together.
Chris: Thank you for sitting down with me and sharing your story. Everyone has such a unique perspective—both personal and collective—and it’s beautiful to hear those experiences.
Susan: And for anyone in their 40s, 50s, or 60s who hasn’t tried yoga yet—don’t be afraid. Just start. Do what you can. My mantra now is simple: I did the best I could with what I had at the time, and I’m doing the best I can with what I have right now.
To start, tell me a little about yourself—your background before yoga—and we’ll take it from there.
Susan: I started practicing yoga about 28 years ago. My son was two at the time, and I had another child who was nine years older. I also had a full-time career and a lot going on. I think it’s fair to say I was a bit of a lost soul. I had a difficult upbringing to work through.
Chris: Were you born and raised in this area, or did you move to the Poconos?
Susan: I was born and raised on Brigantine Island in New Jersey, so I’m an island girl. I grew up surfing and sailing, surrounded by the natural wonder of the ocean—waking up each day to see what the tide brought in. I moved to this area after going to school in Kutztown, where I met my husband. He’s from here, so after college we decided to settle in the Poconos near his family. My family all lives in Northern California.
Growing up on Brigantine Island, walking was a big part of life. You could walk from one end of the island to the other—it was magical. When I moved here, I felt lost. I missed the ocean, the horizon line, the sense of containment that comes from being surrounded by water. Eventually, I discovered the Appalachian Trail and started walking there. Walking has always been meditative for me. As a kid, I’d take the dog for long walks on Saturday mornings, just the two of us. The Appalachian Trail gave me that same feeling of peace, but even that wasn’t enough to manage my stress at the time.
Chris: Did you get a teaching job right away when you moved to the Poconos, or was there a period of time in between?
Susan: There was a short period after I graduated college. I moved here and worked as a waitress and food server for a while. It wasn’t long after that that I got a teaching job in the area.
Chris: Your background was primarily in art, and that was from Kutztown University, right?
Susan: Right. When I was a kid, my mother kept a book on yoga in her bedside table. At that time, I couldn’t get enough to read. I was one of those kids who always had a book in hand—reading at an adult level even as a child. I remember opening that yoga book and going through the poses. I had forgotten all about it until one day, years later, I was walking past a window downtown and saw a sign for a yoga class taught by MIchelle Megargle. Something about it drew me in. I don’t know exactly why—maybe it was the memory of that book—but I decided to sign up for the class. It was the physical aspect of yoga that first pulled me in, and that’s why I always say all yoga is good yoga. The physical practice was what I needed at the time, but the philosophy of yoga is what kept me there.
I started practicing regularly, though with my family and my husband traveling a lot, I only had one night a week out of the house. I kept that up for two years, still studying with Michelle. Then I heard about a yoga teacher training program through Kripalu. They were running a pilot program at a studio in New Jersey, and I thought, “I’d really like to do that.”
Two years into my practice, I enrolled in that training. My teacher was Yoganand, and the experience was life-changing. I finished the program right around 9/11, and it deeply shaped my path. Since then, I’ve continued to study and practice—through self-study, workshops, and ongoing learning.
Chris: Can you share more about your personal practice at that time—your mental state or how you embodied the practice as you entered teacher training?
Susan: Physically, yoga was essential for me. If I hadn’t found it, I think I would have been completely overwhelmed by stress. You know that scene in Mommie Dearest where Joan Crawford is in the rose garden cutting off the heads of roses with big scissors? That would have been me. I just wasn’t managing my stress well before yoga. The practice gave me a way to channel that energy and find balance.
Chris: At that time, if we were talking about Ayurvedic doshas—Pitta, Kapha, or Vata—where do you think you would have fit in as a student?
Susan: Oh, definitely Pitta: fiery—very fiery. When I started my Ashtanga practice, that’s when I first experienced true relaxation—at the end of class. I had to burn it out. That intensity was what I needed to find calm.
In my art classroom, I saw about 700 kids a year. You can’t bring chaotic energy into that environment unless you want it magnified 700 times. So I had to learn to manage my energy.
Yoganand at Kripalu was known for his pranayama and breathing practices, and I really connected with that. The breathing aspect, even more than the physical, transformed my energy from chaotic to calm.
My childhood environment was often toxic, so I wanted to create something different—a healthy classroom, a healthy family, and a healthy way of meeting the world. Through pranayama, meditation, and the practice of burning out stress, along with working with the yamas and niyamas, I found clarity in how I wanted to live. It was life-changing, and that’s what has kept me with yoga all these years. It’s been interesting to watch yoga evolve over the past 28 years. Many studios now focus solely on the physical aspect, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, for me, it’s the other components—the breath-work, meditation, and philosophy—that made my practice sacred.
Chris: Did you always know early on what kind of work you wanted to do in the arts?
Susan: Yes, by the time I was in third grade, I knew I wanted to go into the arts. My mother was an untrained artist. She had six kids in seven years, and she painted constantly. We’d talk to her while she painted, and she’d just nod, completely absorbed in her work. That was her bliss. I was drawn to that same creative energy. It started as more than a hobby—it became a true passion. I originally thought I’d go into fashion design, but I ended up in art education, which turned out to be the perfect career for me. I really loved it.
Chris:What is it that you love so much about being an educator?
Susan: The “aha” moments. Seeing a student’s realization or breakthrough was everything. My approach to teaching art was always therapeutic. If a student struggled with self-esteem, I’d have them do a self-portrait. Everyone would get a mirror and really look at themselves. It was powerful to see how that process helped them grow. It was rewarding to meet each student where they were and build from there. I never expected everyone to pursue art the way I did, but I wanted them to love it in their own way. My goal was always to build kids up—to help them see their own creativity and worth. It was absolutely the right career for me. I loved spending time with kids because they see the world with such fresh, curious eyes.
Chris: How has art influenced your yoga, or how has yoga influenced your art?
Susan: Oh, very much so. One of my favorite things to do is life drawing. I’ve been doing it throughout my entire career, and it continually sharpens my skills. Drawing the human figure is one of the hardest things to capture—the nuance, the light and shadow, the softness. There aren’t many hard lines; it’s all about subtle transitions. When you study the human body that closely, you start to see it as a masterpiece—something truly beautiful. Whether or not I’d want a figure drawing hanging on my wall all day is another story, but as an artist, it helps me see the beauty of the human form in quiet, natural moments.
Chris: Do you think that gave you a different perspective on the human body once you became a yoga teacher?
Susan: Absolutely. You start to see where people hold tension and where they are relaxed. Now that I’m not teaching yoga, I try not to notice what’s going on in other people’s bodies—but after years of life drawing and yoga training, it’s hard not to observe and to unsee. These days, I focus more on my own practice—what’s happening within me on my mat.
Chris: Once you moved to the Poconos and completed your training through the Kripalu-affiliated program in New Jersey, did you start teaching yoga right away, or was it more for your own experience?
Susan: I went all in. I really wanted to change the world—no small feat! I was completely immersed in it. But, as I tend to do, I took on too much. I had two young children, a full-time teaching career, and a husband who traveled nearly three months out of the year.
Chris: So, to clarify—you were teaching full-time as an art teacher to about 700 students a year, raising two children, with a husband who traveled frequently, and teaching yoga classes at night—all while working on your master’s degree?
Susan: Yes, exactly. It was a lot. Eventually, I had to scale back. Teaching yoga fueled my self-study, though—it was just like building a lesson plan for art. I loved creating new ways to explore concepts and deepen understanding. I kept at least one class a week because it kept me connected to my practice. Teaching helped me understand yoga more deeply, and my students were just as much my teachers as I was theirs. As my kids grew older and more independent, and once I finished my master’s, I was able to take on a bit more again. But yes, I went all in—just as I always do.
Chris: And where were you teaching your classes at the time?
Susan: I taught classes privately for a while to a group of retirees. I also taught at some local studios and school teachers.
I started teaching by donation. My colleagues donated, and I donated elsewhere. I believe there needs to be an exchange for appreciation or respect.
Chris: I remember meeting you at Sundari Yoga in East Stroudsburg, off Milford Road. I also studied with Michelle around the same time. You completed your teacher training before I did.
Susan: I think I met you around that time. I wasn't sure who taught where, as there were many crossovers. I couldn't remember if you taught at that location. I taught at the East Stroudsburg location when it was above the Chinese food store on Crystal Street. I also taught at Yoga House when they first opened, and I taught at school one day a week and had an art studio.
Chris: With all that self-study, how has that changed your personal relationships?
Susan: I now spend more time listening. I take a deep breath and digest information.
Listening is everything. This change is due to the Yamas (ethical disciplines) and Niyamas (personal observances) *Philosophy from the yoga Sutras of Patanjali. I pause and integrate how I meet each moment.
There's a pause between poses, where I integrate. It is an integration of taking it in, integrating, and then moving on. It is the same with confrontation: listen, pause, and integrate.
Chris: You mentioned some tumultuous times. How did that help you reconcile or process those pieces? You mentioned digestion. What does that look or feel like to you?
Susan: Through lots of counseling, I could see where I've been, who I've been, and how I am affected by things. I acknowledge and move on. Lots of help from the community and mental health. Paying attention to mental health is best done through meditation. You'll feel all kinds of things. It's like unpacking suitcases. You're going to feel a lot. It's about staying with it and following it. The drive to stay with it was not shutting the door when things came up.
Chris: What would you say was your drive, or what gave you the courage to stay with the practice when times got tough?
Susan: I wanted to be a better person. That was my motivation. I wanted to show up for the people I cared about—especially my kids.
When I came into my marriage, I didn’t have any tools in my toolbox. I hadn’t developed relational skills. I grew up seeing a lot of pain and unhealthy interactions—really the opposite of what I wanted for my own life. It was chaotic, and I knew there had to be a better way. Yoga and self-work seemed like that better way. People have told me I was courageous for sticking with it, but honestly, I can’t imagine not doing the work. I couldn’t live the way I had seen growing up. My life is so much richer now, and my relationships are so much healthier than what I witnessed as a child.
It’s also about accountability—being able to sit with what’s happened, process it, and still say, “I’m the one who wants to make the change.” The people I grew up with—my family of origin—were doing the best they could with what they had. Their toolboxes were empty too. I just inherited that emptiness and had to learn to fill mine with skills for building healthy relationships and living a more peaceful life.
Chris That must have influenced how you approached motherhood.
Susan: Yes, absolutely. But I don’t want to make it sound like I was the perfect parent—there’s no such thing. Like any parent, I’ve made mistakes. Sometimes I find out about them years later, and all I can do is say, “I’m sorry.” The best I can hope for is that my kids will do better with their own families because they know more now. That’s really all any of us can do—our best with what we have at the time, and then keep trying to do better as we learn and grow.
Chris: Let's fast forward to your 300hr yoga program (advanced program) and life at that time.
Susan: A period of time followed when the 300-hour program began. Health issues then emerged. The story is explored because, months before, the conversation revealed a lot about that moment and potential discoveries. Yoga and meditation practices are why the Iam here today. An MRI was received for the 50th birthday.
The reason for the MRI was the 300-hour program. It involved a discussion about meditation and starting a practice. My life was already full, so they had to wake up earlier to meditate. I was dedicated to this practice.
A timer was set. Then, a feeling arose that something was wrong. This feeling began to affect my entire life.
I had always been fortunate. My son was a teenager and experiencing hormonal changes and we would ride bicycles together on the McDade Trail. I was very active. Suddenly, energy felt like it was leaking. Everything was difficult.
Each morning, the I meditated, and it I was giving away possessions in my mind. It was bizarre. I stopped wearing jewelry. I went back to the breathing count, and my mind went to a specific area.
I started noticing symptoms—loss of appetite, dry mouth—and mentioned them to my dentist. He suggested I see a specialist to explore what was going on. The first head and neck doctor I saw dismissed me, saying it was probably just a menopausal symptom.
I kept up my meditation practice, but the symptoms continued. Eventually, I saw another specialist who ordered an MRI. On my 50th birthday, I went in for the scan, and that’s when they found a tumor in my parotid salivary gland. They told me it was probably nothing—smooth and round, likely benign—but they wanted to do a biopsy just to be sure. I was sent to Philadelphia, and the nurse there reassured me that the doctor didn’t think it was anything serious. I was nervous and told my husband I wanted to leave. He looked at me and said, “Sue, I drove you all the way down here. Just do it.”
So, I did. And thank goodness I did, because the biopsy showed it was stage two cancer. It wasn’t treated with chemotherapy but required radiation. Looking back, I realize my meditation practice was alerting me that something was wrong. I kept feeling this “energy leak” in my body, and I couldn’t explain it. My intuition was right.
Chris: I’m so grateful your husband encouraged you to stay. It’s so common to want answers but then back away when they’re right in front of us.
Susan: Yes, absolutely. I was ready to walk out—I thought the whole thing was barbaric. The surgery itself was very intricate; they had to pull back part of my face to reach the tumor. By the time it was scheduled, I still didn’t fully grasp that it was cancer. I even told the doctor, “I think this is all in my head,” and he said, “It’s all in your head, all right.” After surgery came six weeks of daily radiation treatments in Philadelphia. It was exhausting—like a full-time job. During that time, I had to let go of my 300-hour yoga training. It was hard, but it was the right decision.
I was beating myself up about it until a good friend printed out a certificate for me that said, “You go, girl—you’ve accomplished so much.” It was a beautiful reminder that sometimes letting go is also an achievement. "Okay, you’ve done it.” And she was right. I had been beating myself up because I always try to complete everything I start.
When I was younger, I had a bad habit of not finishing things. My mother used to tell me, “You have a problem with not completing what you start.” She passed away when I was very young, but I still hear her voice reminding me to finish what I begin. So, I was really upset with myself for not completing the 300-hour program.
But it was what I needed at the time. Life had given me a different chapter to finish—taking care of my health. That had to be the priority. My yoga and meditation practices helped me recognize that something was wrong in my body. That “energy leak” I felt was real, even though I couldn’t explain it.
Chris: Those six weeks must have been daunting—driving back and forth to Philadelphia every day, two hours each way if traffic was good, plus all the time in the hospital.
Susan: It was exhausting. I was on high doses of nerve blockers, so I couldn’t drive myself. Someone always had to take me. But that’s where community came in—those precious moments with people who cared for me.
There was one person in particular who was incredibly gracious about giving me rides. It wasn’t always easy—two hours there and two hours back, especially when I was tired and going through treatments—but I was so touched by his kindness. I reminded myself to focus on that: this was someone with a good heart, even if we didn’t see eye to eye on everything.
Chris: That feels like a reflection of our times—how many people we know may not align with us on everything, but we can still find the heart in them.
Susan: Exactly. It’s a discipline, and it’s not easy. But it’s one of the great meditations of our time—to see the heart in others, even when we disagree.
That period of my life was incredibly challenging, but it was also deeply transformative. Cancer became my teacher.
Chris: How long were the follow up treatments?
Susan: Follow-up treatments were administered for five years. I was monitored, and there were no recurrences. My cancer was a rare primary cancer, occurring in one out of one hundred thousand cases, as it is usually a secondary cancer. During that period, a lump was discovered in my breast. It was initially believed to be the primary cancer, breast cancer. A biopsy was performed. The lump turned out to be fibrous breasts caused by caffeine.
For 30 years, I worked with clay in an ventilated room with clay dust.
Chris: How did your perspective change after the cancer?
Susan: I considered what they might have done wrong emotionally. I had always followed a strict regimen, including a sugar-free, dairy-free, and meat-free diet, yoga, and meditation. Despite adhering to this regimen, I developed cancer. I was working so hard to be invincible and I had to wrestle with the thought "I'm not that powerful." People get sick. The environment is polluted. Sometimes, illness is simply due to chance. People get sick, and that is a part of life. Birth, life, and death are all parts of life.
I decided to start drinking. If I wanted a glass of wine, I would no longer deny myself. However, I wouldn't drink five glasses; MODERATION!
Now I follow a middle way approach and do not take things too seriously.If I want a chocolate chip cookie, I will have one, as long as it's not four boxes every hour.
I knew an instructor who would criticize herself for drinking coffee. Instead, I thought, "Do you like coffee? Have a cup of coffee. Don't beat yourself up over a cup of coffee." Yoga is meant to quiet the mind. If the mental chatter involves constant self-criticism over social activities like having coffee with friends, then the person may be moving further away from the benefits of yoga.
I previously denied myself a glass of wine with meals because they thought it was healthier. Now,I embraces the middle way.
It has been a journey, but my yoga practice has worked to bring me into better balance.
Chris: How has your yoga practice changed over the years—from that Ashtanga “turn and burn” style to where you are in your current phase?
Susan: In my current phase, I know what I like, and I know what I need.
Living part-time in Southern California, I often go to studios where classes are heated. It’s been difficult to find unheated classes. I like a little warmth in the room, but once it gets over 100 degrees, I don’t enjoy it. I’ve almost passed out or felt sick in those classes. Being menopausal, all that extra heat and the hot flashes don’t help me at all. I once asked a studio owner about unheated classes, and she said, “But your fascia needs all that heat.” Without missing a beat, I replied, “My fascia is fine, thank you very much.” If I want to work on something that feels tight or impinged, I’ll do some static stretching. Knowing my body and what I need, I’ve realized that nobody needs to be at a fever pitch just to stretch. I can still enjoy postures that my body loved when I was younger, but with just a little heat—not too much. Once it’s over 100 degrees, I’m out.
I’m not interested in someone telling me what I need. After all these years, I know what works for me. I think that’s one of the greatest marks of being a teacher—helping students find what works for them, rather than imposing our own ideas on them.
I also love the community of yoga—the one we’ve created together. It takes everyone to build that sense of connection. I truly love that community.
As for my personal practice, I try to do yoga two days a week on my own. That’s when I can really quiet my mind and tune into my body. After more than 30 years of practice, I’m much more self-directed. My flow is intuitive—if one area feels like it needs more attention, I stay there longer. I still need that self-practice time, one or two days a week, and then I go to the studio to enjoy the community. I love a good smile or laugh in the middle of class and try not to take it all too seriously. That’s how I stay connected to my meditation practice as well.
Chris: You’ve been going back and forth between California and the Poconos for quite some time now. How long has it been?
Susan: It’s been about eight years—far too long! It’s been an interesting journey.
Chris: What did you learn about yourself being out in California that might have been different from staying here?
Susan: I thank God for my yoga practice. My husband had been commuting from Pennsylvania to Los Angeles for 19 years—about once every two months for a couple of weeks at a time. Then, all of a sudden, they wanted him full-time. We finally moved into our house in February, and then the whole country shut down in March 2020. We were completely isolated—just the two of us out there.
I feel like CA is so big, even in my neighborhood, which I live in. A very nice little neighborhood. I don't see people, I don't see my neighbors like it is so big and so vast that it's hard to find at home.
Chris: Do you still have the house in Water Gap?
Susan: Yes, this is my home and where my community is. My life is Poconos, and I raised my children here.
California is lovely, with great weather. One can ski in the morning and surf in the afternoon. It is an amazing place, but the younger self would have adored it. This part of myself prefers something quieter, a more introspective world. This part of me wants to grow old with some of the people I have in the area. It's a quieter, gentler experience. I am looking forward to being there full time.
That will happen within the next year. I go back and forth with a dog. I come back here for three months trying to get the house ready for retirement.
Chris: What does that vision look like, getting that at-home space?
Susan: Well, a place to make art. Setting up a place to make art. I'm 62. Life is changing. My yoga practice is changing as well.
I ran into my friend Rita Barricona. She was in Michelle McGargle's class. It's amazing how many of us all started with the Michelle McGargle contingent.
Chris: Michelle was an amazing teacher. She created consistency because she would only let you buy these two-month packages that were "use it or lose it." And on that day, at that time every week. I remember when I went to college and had a class that wasn't going to be offered any other time. She would say, "you can either buy your slot and not show up, and I will hold your slot for next semester, but if you give that slot up, I have a waiting list, and I don't know if I'll get you back into this time slot." She had her spaces, and it held people accountable. I think that was part of building that tapas, that austerity and practice for us.
Susan: Yes! I met Rita there, and she said to me, "I'm doing old lady yoga now." And I asked, "What does that mean?" She said, "Appropriate for where she's at now."
I loved Ashtanga yoga. It made me a better person because I needed to burn off all the angst. I needed to burn off the angst and the anger about how we were raised, and my own situation, and not having tools. I needed to burn that up. But I don't need that now. I'm not interested in beating the crap out of myself. I want to feel good when I walk out the door. I use my props. I think of them as good friends that are just there to assist me.
So, I've been using my props and using whatever I need. It's like an arsenal. There is an incredible amount of acceptance, and it's not a giving up; it's more of a celebration of where you are. It's a celebration of where you are, and I know that when I do my personal practice, I'll spend a little longer with my hips. The more I can relax into pigeon pose, the more I build my little space so that I can really just relax in pigeon for a length of time and try to loosen up all that. I haven't given up, I just know I need to spend a little more time in those areas.
Chris: Do you ever think about going back to teaching, or are you in a phase of returning to and remaining in your studentship?
Susan: I would like to teach again—both art and yoga—but definitely not in a public school setting. I love teaching yoga, and I believe that when the time is right, the universe will guide me back to it.
Chris: I remember asking you about teaching for us at Boundless about ten years ago. At that time, you were so busy—you had over 700 students a day and said you’d had enough teaching.
Susan: Yes, that’s true. But now I do miss it. I love the creativity. Teaching feels like art in motion to me. I’d love to teach again—probably something like “old lady yoga.” Honestly, I don’t know how people don’t stretch. I wouldn’t be able to move if I didn’t.
Chris: I think some people are afraid to confront how much mobility they’ve lost. It’s common for beginners to feel intimidated. Some even call to ask if they’re “good enough” for a beginner’s class or sit in the parking lot multiple times before walking in. They see all the flashy poses online and think that’s what yoga is.
Susan: Exactly. That’s such a glorified part of yoga, but the practice is so much broader. Maybe I’ll do what my friend Rita calls “old lady yoga.” Or maybe I’ll revive a class Brian Davis once taught called “Yoga for Stiff Dudes”—though I’d rename it “Yoga for Stiff People.” We’ll loosen everyone up!
Chris: I love that.
Susan: I suspect that even if I lose my mind someday, I’ll still remember my yoga practice.
I had an interesting experience taking a yoga class in Northern California, off the grid, at a small community center. The woman teaching was so gracious. She looked at me and said, “You’ve had some very good teachers.” I told her she was right—I’ve had amazing teachers. I noticed she had everything written down and taught beautifully.
Later, I learned she was in her 80s and struggling with dementia. She had studied with some well-known teachers and lived not far from my brother. He told me she was having memory issues, but she was using strategies to keep teaching. She led a beautiful class. I thought, imagine the difference if she weren’t engaging her mind, moving her body, and connecting with her community. Would she even be here, thriving in her 80s? She became my hero that day. I loved her spirit and the grace she brought to her teaching.
That’ll be me someday—and probably you too.
Interviewer: Do you ever think about going back to teaching, or are you in a phase of returning to and remaining in your studentship?
Interviewee: I would like to teach again—both art and yoga—but definitely not in a public school setting. I love teaching yoga, and I believe that when the time is right, the universe will guide me back to it.
Interviewer: I remember asking you about teaching about ten years ago. At that time, you were so busy—you had over 700 students a day and said you’d had enough teaching.
Interviewee: Yes, that’s true. But now I do miss it. I love the creativity. Teaching feels like art in motion to me. I’d love to teach again—probably something like “old lady yoga.” Honestly, I don’t know how people don’t stretch. I wouldn’t be able to move if I didn’t.
Interviewer: I think some people are afraid to confront how much mobility they’ve lost. It’s common for beginners to feel intimidated. Some even call to ask if they’re “good enough” for a beginner’s class or sit in the parking lot multiple times before walking in. They see all the flashy poses online and think that’s what yoga is.
Interviewee: Exactly. That’s such a glorified part of yoga, but the practice is so much broader. Maybe I’ll do what my friend Rita calls “old lady yoga.” Or maybe I’ll revive a class Brian once taught called “Yoga for Stiff Dudes”—though I’d rename it “Yoga for Stiff People.” We’ll loosen everyone up!
Interviewer: I love that.
Interviewee: I suspect that even if I lose my mind someday, I’ll still remember my yoga practice.
I had an interesting experience taking a yoga class in Northern California, off the grid, at a small community center. The woman teaching was so gracious. She looked at me and said, “You’ve had some very good teachers.” I told her she was right—I’ve had amazing teachers.
I noticed she had everything written down and taught beautifully. Later, I learned she was in her 80s and struggling with dementia. She had studied with some well-known teachers and lived not far from my brother. He told me she was having memory issues, but she was using strategies to keep teaching.
She led a beautiful class. I thought, imagine the difference if she weren’t engaging her mind, moving her body, and connecting with her community. Would she even be here, thriving in her 80s? She became my hero that day. I loved her spirit and the grace she brought to her teaching.
That’ll be me someday—and probably you too.
Chris: I can see it. I don’t see it slowing down anytime soon. It’s funny because I’ll be 54 this coming year, and it’s an interesting shift. I don’t know if this happened to you, but I almost feel better than I did in my 20s. I’m more settled in my mindset, and all that meditation and breathwork have really grounded me. I’m in a good place, but at the same time, I’m aware that I’m on the shorter side of my lifespan rather than the longer side. That awareness sharpens my focus on what’s truly important.
Susan: Yes, absolutely. I’m much more intentional about where I give my energy and what I choose not to participate in. It’s incredible. It’s also inspiring that so many of us have been on this journey together—not just individually on our own mats, but collectively. I think you might have even been at the very first class I ever taught.
Chris: I think so! That was at Sundari, right?
Susan: Yes, in 2003. And here we are in 2025, still practicing and sharing together. That’s so special.
Chris: It really is. The people in the room—Mark, Christine, and so many others—make it even more meaningful. I’ve been apologizing for my long arms and legs for years, always bumping into someone! But it’s wonderful to see new faces and such a wide generational span in the practice.
Susan: I love that too. The younger generation brings such energy and enthusiasm to the room. I might not be in that phase anymore, but I remember it well—that feeling of discovery, realizing, “This really works for me.” I love seeing that spark in others, and the community you’ve cultivated is beautiful.
Chris: Thank you. I may hold space in the building and organize the schedule, but it’s really everyone who shows up that creates the energy. I’ve practiced in so many different spaces and towns, and each one feels unique. The people who come together shape the community and determine how it thrives.
Susan: Exactly—it’s all about community. Yes, it’s been a great journey. Thank you for bringing it all together.
Chris: Thank you for sitting down with me and sharing your story. Everyone has such a unique perspective—both personal and collective—and it’s beautiful to hear those experiences.
Susan: And for anyone in their 40s, 50s, or 60s who hasn’t tried yoga yet—don’t be afraid. Just start. Do what you can. My mantra now is simple: I did the best I could with what I had at the time, and I’m doing the best I can with what I have right now.
Johannas Blom “Jan”
Interview By: Fallon Horan
I sat down with Jan in his East Stroudsburg home on a hot July afternoon. After coffee and pastries, Suzanne, his partner of 58 years, politely excused herself so as not to influence the narrative.
Suzanne, also a dedicated yogi, carries a quiet strength. While I caught glimpses of her story through Jan’s words, as he wisely notes in the epilogue of his memoir: “This is the way I see my history. It’s not the ‘reality’ or the ‘truth,’ but the truth that’s in my head.”
Though their lives are deeply intertwined, Suzanne’s story is uniquely her own, and one best told in her own voice. The following is Jan's ‘truth’, shared in the summer of 2025. Suzanne's story will be featured separately.
Suzanne, also a dedicated yogi, carries a quiet strength. While I caught glimpses of her story through Jan’s words, as he wisely notes in the epilogue of his memoir: “This is the way I see my history. It’s not the ‘reality’ or the ‘truth,’ but the truth that’s in my head.”
Though their lives are deeply intertwined, Suzanne’s story is uniquely her own, and one best told in her own voice. The following is Jan's ‘truth’, shared in the summer of 2025. Suzanne's story will be featured separately.
Jan’s Journey: A Life of Resilience, Adventure, & Lifelong Learning
Born in 1944 in Amsterdam, Jan was raised in the gritty, working-class neighborhood of De Pijp. The area, known for its long, narrow streets that resembled industrial pipes, was densely packed with tall, slender buildings. A lack of natural light and limited outdoor space took a toll on his health during childhood. To support his well-being, his parents followed a common practice at the time, sending him to summer camps outside the city each year.
But for Jan, those camps felt more stifling than healing. He recalls long weeks of illness endured in uncomfortable conditions. This early struggle sparked in him a deep desire for independence and travel. Determined to carve his own path, he began working at a young age. However, the post–World War II wage restrictions for workers under 23, known as youth salaries, greatly limited his earning potential and further fueled his ambition to emigrate.
With no formal trade and only bookkeeping experience, Jan was unable to secure visas to Brazil or Australia. But his persistence paid off when he finally obtained a sponsor in New York. In August 1965, at age 21, he immigrated to the United States. Just five months later, he was drafted to serve in the Vietnam War.
Persistent health issues and an extended hospital stay eventually led to an honorable discharge, an unexpected turn that gave him the chance to begin building a life in his new country. It was during this transitional time that he met Suzanne, on her daily bus commute to Rutgers University.
Jan soon began working as an Instrumental Analyst Lab Technician at Johnson & Johnson, a role that required him to pursue further education. He enrolled at Thomas Edison College, where he earned a Bachelor's degree in Chemistry. During his 13-year tenure with the company, he and Suzanne settled in Somerville, New Jersey, where they married and raised their daughter, Yoevonne.
But for Jan, those camps felt more stifling than healing. He recalls long weeks of illness endured in uncomfortable conditions. This early struggle sparked in him a deep desire for independence and travel. Determined to carve his own path, he began working at a young age. However, the post–World War II wage restrictions for workers under 23, known as youth salaries, greatly limited his earning potential and further fueled his ambition to emigrate.
With no formal trade and only bookkeeping experience, Jan was unable to secure visas to Brazil or Australia. But his persistence paid off when he finally obtained a sponsor in New York. In August 1965, at age 21, he immigrated to the United States. Just five months later, he was drafted to serve in the Vietnam War.
Persistent health issues and an extended hospital stay eventually led to an honorable discharge, an unexpected turn that gave him the chance to begin building a life in his new country. It was during this transitional time that he met Suzanne, on her daily bus commute to Rutgers University.
Jan soon began working as an Instrumental Analyst Lab Technician at Johnson & Johnson, a role that required him to pursue further education. He enrolled at Thomas Edison College, where he earned a Bachelor's degree in Chemistry. During his 13-year tenure with the company, he and Suzanne settled in Somerville, New Jersey, where they married and raised their daughter, Yoevonne.
Driven by a thirst for adventure and a competitive spirit, Jan explored the U.S. through marathons, bike races, long-distance hikes, and triathlons. His office walls reflect this chapter of his life, adorned with photos of a strong young man running, biking, and trekking through the American landscape.
|
|
Memories of his days as a triathlete hang in Jan's office
Later, Jan transitioned into a new role as an Administrative Contract Writer for the U.S. Department of Defense, an opportunity that led him back to Thomas Edison College for a second degree, this time in Business. His 23-year career with the DOD included a memorable two-year assignment in Spain, a country he fell in love with and still visits regularly.
When asked what keeps drawing him back to Spain, he names the food and the culture, of course. But it’s the sense of community that stands out most. He admires and deeply appreciates the warmth, pride, and friendliness of the people.
Eventually relocating to Pennsylvania and approaching retirement, Jan showed no signs of slowing down. Reflecting on a life where education often followed the demands of work, he decided it was time to learn for the pure joy of it. In his mid-60s, he returned to college once again, this time to East Stroudsburg University, where he earned a Bachelor's degree in Philosophy.
While studying at ESU, Jan was required to take two physical education courses. He chose yoga and tennis. Though he didn’t continue with yoga immediately after graduating, a few years later he joined a local studio called Sundari, now as Boundless Yoga Studio, and gradually developed a consistent practice.
When asked about his first impression of yoga, Jan said he was drawn to the challenge. It made him feel strong to push himself and witness his own progress. Now, at age 80, he still prides himself on staying active and productive. Motivated by a lifelong passion for learning and discovery, he now turns to his yoga mat for a different reason, it’s one hour of the day, he says, “when I don’t have to think.”
Jan at the height of his inversion practice |
Cruise ship tickets in Jan's basement |
True to his nature as a man of logistics, Jan approaches travel with careful planning, but when asked how many countries he’s visited, he couldn’t say. Instead, he spoke of a personal goal: to circumnavigate the globe via cruise ships. He and Suzanne have just one stretch left to complete, between Singapore and the Suez Canal.
These days, life at home is quiet and comfortably simple. Jan embraces routine yet remains intellectually curious. To keep his mind sharp, he takes courses through Canvera’s online training platform. Since 2013, he has proudly completed between three and five courses per year, earning a remarkable 58 certificates to date.
His other passions include photography and writing. Each year, he curates a storyboard to capture its memories, many of which he once used to write a memoir The Little Flying Dutchman, a tribute to his granddaughter Isabelle.
Jan’s story is not just one of accomplishments, but of character, of a man who sought independence, found purpose, and never stopped learning. In every chapter of his life, he has shown that reinvention has no age limit. Today he continues to explore with the same quiet determination that carried him across oceans.
These days, life at home is quiet and comfortably simple. Jan embraces routine yet remains intellectually curious. To keep his mind sharp, he takes courses through Canvera’s online training platform. Since 2013, he has proudly completed between three and five courses per year, earning a remarkable 58 certificates to date.
His other passions include photography and writing. Each year, he curates a storyboard to capture its memories, many of which he once used to write a memoir The Little Flying Dutchman, a tribute to his granddaughter Isabelle.
Jan’s story is not just one of accomplishments, but of character, of a man who sought independence, found purpose, and never stopped learning. In every chapter of his life, he has shown that reinvention has no age limit. Today he continues to explore with the same quiet determination that carried him across oceans.
