Toledo Yoga.

What began as a desire to share a practice I loved eventually became something much bigger than I could have imagined.

Our original mission was to create a powerful community through the practice of yoga in the 419 (Toledo’s area code). But we quickly realized we needed to drop the digits.

Our community was growing well beyond Toledo.

People came for the yoga, but what kept them coming back was the community that was growing with each class. And that community wasn’t limited to Toledo. Our online platform and dynamic teaching team created access for people to unite from across the country and around the world.

For years, I had the privilege of teaching yoga. And while I loved the physical practice, it was always the work off the mat that interested me most.

The ancient teachings of yoga have remarkably little to do with whether you can touch your toes or stand on your head.

And quite honestly, most people can’t touch their toes. Myself included.

Ironically, I may have been the least flexible yoga studio owner around.

The practice of yoga is rooted in something far greater: how we live.

How we treat one another. How we respond when life doesn’t go according to plan. How we navigate discomfort, practice compassion, let go of expectations, and learn to become a little more comfortable with ourselves.

Those are the lessons that have stayed with me, and the ones I’m still interested in practicing every day.

On March 1, 2023, I received a phone call that abruptly ended my role as a teacher and leader of Toledo Yoga.

That morning, my husband, George, suffered a spontaneous brain bleed. My world stopped with that call, and three weeks later, it was turned upside down when he passed away.

The community I had spent years helping to build, along with the practices I’d adopted through yoga, became the very things that sustained me through my darkest days and the years of rebuilding that followed.

So, why The Founder’s Letter?

Earlier this year, I began writing a weekly letter to the Toledo Yoga community.

I no longer live in Toledo, but I still feel a deep connection to the studio and the people who were such an important part of my life for so many years.

Writing these letters has become a way for me to give back to a community that gave me so much, and it continues to feel deeply meaningful.

Each week, I find myself revisiting the teachings I once shared in class, often discovering that they have taken on new meaning through my own experiences.

The Four Agreements. The Eight Limbs of Yoga. The Eight Pillars of Joy. The practice of letting go. The courage to step outside our comfort zones.

Nearly nine months and dozens of letters later, I realized something.

These conversations don’t have to end at the studio doors.

Over the years, I’ve learned something incredibly valuable. You don’t need to practice yoga to appreciate its philosophy. You don’t need to know what downward-facing dog looks like or have any desire to learn.

You simply need to be curious about yourself and the world around you.

And perhaps be willing to consider another perspective now and then.

What you’ll find here

My late husband, George, used to affectionately refer to yoga as “the 3,000-year-old fad.”

I can still hear him saying it, and while it used to bother me, it now makes me laugh. I think what bothered me most wasn’t that he was wrong about yoga’s popularity, but that he referred to my passion as a fad.

He loved ribbing me.

Of course, I gave it right back to him. After all, how many fads can claim to have survived 3,000 years?

And that’s exactly what I intend to share here. The practices, philosophy, wisdom, and teachings that I continue to embrace in my own life.

Some weeks, there will be something practical to take away. Other times, I may leave you with something worth contemplating. After all, the Buddha spent quite a bit of time sitting beneath a tree. Sometimes that’s where the real work happens.

I don’t profess to have all the answers. Quite the opposite. My analytical brain likes to sit in the driver’s seat more than it does in quiet contemplation under a tree, or anywhere for that matter.

The older I get, the more I realize how much I don’t know. But I’m curious. I’m willing to question what I think I know. And I’m still practicing. Because that’s what yoga is, after all. A practice.

A little about me

I’m the founder of Toledo Yoga, a former yoga teacher, a mother, a writer, and someone who has spent much of her adult life exploring what it means to live with greater intention.

I’ve also discovered that knowing yogic philosophy and living it are two very different things.

One of my favorite teachers and dear friends often says, “Practice yoga when you don’t need it, so it’s there when you do.”

With everything life has offered me, I’ve learned to lean on that practice more than I ever imagined I would. And I feel tremendously grateful for everything this timeless fad continues to offer.

Whether you’ve practiced alongside me in Naples or Toledo, or you’re finding your way here for the first time, I’m glad you found your way here.

Welcome to The Founder’s Letter, where the practice continues off the mat.

With intention,
Leslie