If you were around the Yoga Hive community in Montana or Alaska back in the early days, you might remember a workshop I used to host called “Be You”. The entire premise of the 4-hour experience was around cultivating self-reflection tools through the yogic lineage, with the support of Danielle Laporte’s book, The Desire Map.


Danielle pioneered “goal setting” from a heart-centered approach. Instead of focusing on THINGS to add to our New Year’s resolution list, she helped us see how we can focus on how we want to FEEL on a daily basis, forming a guiding light for all we do in life.

I absolutely love this work, and I’m so so honored to be a part of the launch team for the RELAUNCH of her Heart Centered Planner in 2025. This planner was a huge piece of my life and growth many years ago. Danielle took a break offering these each year, but when I got the email 2025 was a GO for the relaunch, I knew I wanted to be a part of the team.

You’ll hear more from me about this planner, but if you want to check it out — and decide you’re IN:

Use my code MOLLIELOVE10 for 10% off your planner! Click here to shop now!
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*I’m personally opting into the Daily Planner (versus the weekly). Here’s a preview of the daily pages. My goal is for this to be journal-meets-heart-centered work. I love how she also notes the Moon phases each month :-)

Sometimes I wish I had a more “magical” answer when asked how I found kriya… one that involved an inner knowing from childhood, or a long lineage of kriya gurus in my family, or I saw my destiny in a dream.


But kriya — like all the best the things in my life — found me. 


I was sitting at one of my yoga studios and a friend (also a studio owner) had shared with me she was going to India for advanced yoga training. I can’t quite remember if she invited me, or I invited myself... but I surprised myself by admitting: I wanted to go.


Surprisingly, despite being a studio owner, teacher, and devout practitioner of (what I thought was) yoga, India hadn’t been on my radar. 


She’d found a school she liked near Rishikesh (the north of India), and had already paid her deposit. I glazed over the website and I remember thinking it was great because they’d be teaching mantra. I’d never had any formal training in that.



I saw the word “kriya” but I had no reference point for what it meant. I moved on. I had a chat with Sean about the trip. He agreed it seemed like a positive next step for me — and I enrolled.



That was that! 


No mind-blowing realization, astral contact with a guru, or prophetic dreams. And nothing earth-shattering leading up to the trip, or during the epic travel day(s) that took me over 48 hours to get to the school that November. In short: I had no idea what was in store for me!


I settled into my room, unpacked my things for the month I’d be staying, and I remember walking down to the little cafe where other students were starting to gather during our first afternoon. I turned to a man who looked friendly enough, introduced myself (his name was Thomas) and upon hearing his unfamiliar accent, I asked him, “Where are you from?”


He responded with a grin, “Planet Earth!”


What in the world was I getting myself into?


It didn’t take long for me to find out. The opening ceremony felt meaningful, getting to know my teachers, fellow trainees, and learning the Tara mantra as we took flowers (our intentions) down to the river and placed them in the current to watch them drift away.


The next morning, I sat on my mat awaiting the start of our morning “yoga journey” — the 2-hour class we’d be taking daily, post-meditation.


I can definitively say: That was the moment before my entire life changed. It was the last “before kriya” moment in my life.  

After that, there was only “after kriya.”


By the time we drifted to breakfast in a sublime state of awareness, I wasn’t sure what had changed within me in those two hours — but I knew I’d never be the same. 

I’ve since studied with my teacher, Anand, two additional times in India, and various other corses and trainings online and abroad during his travels. What I love most about learning the Sattva Yoga approach was that we don’t just teach kriya-upon-kriya… we use poses, flow, music, philosophy, dancing, breathwork, shaking, meditation — you name it! Whatever feels relevant on any given day.


However, even after making a sincere commitment to the path of kriya yoga, my practice started to feel rigid after a few years. I craved feminine perspective, which led me down many other roads since then. I’ve soaked up the wisdom of Jyotish, Bhagavad Gita, the Dasha Maha Vidyas, Pancha Maha Bhutas, Ayurveda and more — from women around the world.


My spiritual path of Kriya Yoga hasn’t changed since that first class in India -- but my approach has evolved entirely… as it should.

Today, “how I teach” is unlike anyone else in the world — because that’s the entire point of the path. We are all individuals on a journey through life, and as yoga teachers, the more we understand ourselves, the more our teaching evolves in a unique direction, too.


Although a pilgrimage back to the Himalayas isn’t in the cards anytime soon, I do find myself living in what’s known as the “Himalayas of the Arctic” here in the Brooks Range. And I thank goddess every day that I have this opportunity to teach in this lineage from this absolutely incredible place. 

If you’re already RYT 200 (from any school) and you want to learn how to teach kriya, and find out more about the lineage and tradition of Kriya Yoga, I’d love to have you in the Himalayan Kriya Training this August 1-4. I’ve been offering this continuing education course for six years now, and students enroll for many different reasons… if you’re feeling curious, more details are below, or you can click here. Any questions? You can always reply to this email, too.


Wherever you are, I hope you’re gearing up for an amazing weekend — if you’re in the USA, have a happy 4th of July!

In light,
Mollie

PS - If you’ve been considering coming to Arctic Hive to take yoga teacher training, I’d love for you to read a student’s perspective on her entire experience! CLICK HERE to read Molly O’Brien’s article on the Matador Network!

I had an errand that took me to Anchorage for a few days, and I decided to head to Alpine Fit — a woman-owned, Alaska-founded apparel company.


As I walked in, a friendly woman approached me and introduced herself. Jamie proceeded to answer my zillion questions, grab my sizes, deliver them to my dressing room, and help me figure out the best fits for my body. 


After I’d settled on some bushwhack leggings and a tank top, I approached a display with trepidation.


I stared longingly at the 5-panel hats. 


For as long as I can remember, I’ve thought of my head as TOO BIG, literally.  I shared this with Jamie, explaining how challenging it is to find hats that fit properly, including the extremely trendy 5-panel hats that every company sells. 


She asked, “Do you mind if I measure your head? Just to see?”


I obliged. She measured. And promptly told me that my head was “pretty average sized”. 


MY HEAD IS AVERAGE!

This completely blew my own perception out of the water. I grabbed the 5-panel hat, fitted it on my head, and turned to Jamie, my expression saying, I probably look ridiculous, right? 


I was shocked to see her expression didn’t validate my own. 

“I’m not sure what you see, but I think it looks great.” 

My habit here would be to smile graciously — while simultaneously writing off the opinion of someone I’ve just met. But something about this conversation felt different. I heard the echo of Sean, saying the same thing to me over the years —that I don’t look as ridiculous as I feel in a 5-panel hat. 


In disbelief, I looked back in the mirror. 


I silently tried to loosen my grip on my long-standing view of my head... Was it possible that I don’t look silly? Was it possible that my head is actually just a normal-sized head?


“I really want to be a 5-panel hat person,” I admitted out loud.


Jamie smiled and shared that she’d felt the same way when she started wearing the style. “I think if you want to wear 5-panel hats, you just have to start,” she said.

Mic drop.


She was right. And I bought the hat. 
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[Photo proof below: Hiking in a case of LaCroix to our home yesterday!]

One of her genius plans, inspired by a ranger program our first night on the island, was orchestrating a celebration for July 25th, aka: Christmoose in July. She and our co-counselor, “Karpy”, sat us down after our nightly debrief and said:


“Alright — now that we’re on the island we need to embrace the culture here. The culture of the Moose. The ChristMOOSE. Tonight everyone is going to pick a ‘Secret Moose’ and over the next few days you are going to make a gift, from your heart and from nature to share on ChristMOOSE morning.”


We were STOKED. And we stayed that way for the next eight days as we anticipated this upcoming holiday.


We wished fellow hikers on the trail a “Happy Christmoose” at every opportunity. We worked hard on our gifts. And then our longest hike on the trail was Christmoose Eve, so by the time we arrived to the campsite, it was getting dark... but we still made time to scout the perfect Christmoose tree in our campsite. We had decorating to do…


To the delight of our neighbors in camp, we sang Christmoose carols — changing the words to “moose” at every opportunity.


Then on Christmoose Morning, the universe conspired to give us one of the greatest gifts; Eek woke us early to see a moose, chomping away at vegetation in the lake — a safe distance from our campsite.
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By the time we turned to our Christmoose tree, we realized we’d been on the “nice list” because Santa Moose had come bearing gifts, nestled under our tree! Our neighbors had come through overnight with king-size Snickers bars and a $10 bill to buy sodas at the Ranger’s Station when we looped back. 

One year, we did a 3-day backpacking trip... then 5 days through Picture Rocks National Lakeshore. Then 7 days in the Porcupine Mountains where a bear stormed into our campsite and ate most of our food — another story, for another time...

Finally, we did 12 days hiking the Superior Hiking Trail — a milestone trip where young women earn a pair a red suspenders upon their return. During one of our first years, we witnessed a group receive their suspenders, and I remember thinking: I want to earn my own. ​

Sure enough, Lisa and I were crying yet again (in joy!) the night received our suspenders during a ceremony in font of the entire camp.

When the camp director mentioned to our table at breakfast the next morning that they could really use extra help at camp with cleaning and other tasks, I jumped at the chance to return. ​

Get paid to work at my favorite place in the world? Sign. Me. Up. I’ll do anything.

That summer was one for the books... six weeks of camp! It was the summer I got my suspenders, got my first real job, learned how to (actually) sweep a floor, clean a toilet AND a shower, do dishes in a commercial kitchen, prep food for the masses. The chores weren’t glorious, but I did them — happily. Because I was free.

I never felt completely myself at school, growing up — I was (like so many young women) extremely self-conscious of my appearance, my grades, and my actions. I edited myself into a version I thought was likable.
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At camp? There was no editing. I had complete autonomy to be whoever I felt like. I could be exactly like that camp counselor I saw on the first day of camp — smiling and strumming with her tie-dye T-shirt.

By this time, I’d spent eight summers waiting for her to be my trip leader, and the stars hadn’t aligned. After earning my suspenders, I resigned that it wouldn’t happen... until camp launched a new backpacking trip: 18 days backpacking Isle Royale, a National Park in the middle of Lake Superior.

Of course I was IN — that meant I still had one more chance the following summer...

I’ll tell you what happened tomorrow!

In light,
Mollie

When I was back in Wisconsin for the month of October recovering from surgery, I was in my grandmother’s kitchen, chatting with her and my mom.


Out of nowhere, I had a vision of a piece of jewelry that had belonged to my paternal grandmother, who had died many years ago.


I could remember Grandma Em wearing a gold Egyptian pendant, and I knew instantly I needed to find it. I stopped mid-sentence and turned to Mom and asked her if she knew where it was.


“Yes — I have it at home.”


I boldly asked her, “Could I have it?”

She blinked, surprised. “Yes.”

Well, that was easy! The next day, mom found the pendant and I put it on a simple gold chain to wear close to my heart.


I can’t tell you why spirit moved me to do this — but I knew it was important. And I am reminded of my connection to my grandmother, Emilene Shambeau (“Em” for short) often, as I wear this necklace nearly every day... even in the arctic!

​The thing is: Everything is only as sacred as you make it.


And for me, pendants and trinkets that link me to my ancestors are powerful reminders of lineage that I keep close to me on a daily basis.

Other trinkets that mean so much to me:

• My wedding ring was hand-made to look like a combination of my mom’s ring and Grandma Em’s ring.

 

• I wear an astrological bangle on my left wrist at all times, made from copper, silver and gold in the tradition of kriya yoga — made this specific way that’s been passed down for generations in India.

 

• I usually have a red thread tied to my left wrist. These threads are a reminder of commitments I’ve made during seasonal shifts like the solstices and equinoxes, or during times of intense study of yoga.

 

• I’m often wearing a gold pendant on a shorter chain that features a yellow sapphire + Ganesha to honor new beginnings, obstacles, teachers, and more.

Sure, all these are just THINGS. But to me, they’re also tools that keep me present with the vibrations I’m trying to create in my life. And all this hits close to home for this weekend's Full Moon in Leo.


If you actually looked up in the sky, you’d see her sitting in Magha Nakshatra in the sign of Leo. “Pitris” is the diety associated with Magha — which represents the fore-fathers of humanity in my yogic lineage.

One of my teachers, Komilla Sutton, says, “[Magha] always has a power greater than itself to guide it at difficult times of life when the going gets tough. It needs to ask for inner advice, for only then will the Pitris oblige.”


This is precisely why I adorn myself with reminders of where I come from. When I feel lost, confused or at a cross roads, I always find solace when I turn inward, and ask for a sign. ASKING is like setting an intention.


To me, the answer isn’t some ghost from the past dropping in and showing me the way... it comes through me, tapping into my inner-knowing... and waiting to hear the whisper of my heart.
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And all those trinkets and tokens I hold close can be both immaterial and sacred in this process. They are reminders that take me IN. When I can quiet the external noise, my next step always comes clear — and I know you, too, have the same ability!

​Happy Full Moon, everyone.
Sending love,
Mollie

Although my fibroid removal surgery was 3 months ago, I’m still not over this:


I didn’t even know they were there. 


Sean suggested I see my doctor this summer; It had been a few years since my last visit. He’s constantly tending to his own health and chronic diseases, so I'm sure I seemed crazy for not seeing my doctor at least once a year. I rationalized I didn’t have any symptoms I was concerned about — just what I chalked up to normal aging. 


I didn’t see any reason to go... but I did it anyway. [This is why I love my husband.]


Walking into the clinic, I figured I’d get tips for hormone balancing, an annoying reminder that my fertility clock is ticking, and uncomfortable prodding and probing, as is tradition. As the PA palpated my abdomen, she stopped mid-sentence --

Oh! You have fibroids.

It could have just as easily been Oh, I love your outfit.

She calmly answered my rapid-fire questions. I wracked my brain for anything I could remember from friends’ experiences with fibroids. 


I walked out of the appointment, sat in my car and cried.


The rest (which I shared in this post and this post) all happened fast and slow at the same time... and now here I sit in January 2024, fibroidless with a scar-tissued, in-tact uterus... feeling more and more like myself every day.


If I had to put my finger on it, the feeling I have — still to this day — is not guilt. It’s not shame or sadness. It’s... shock. And awe, at how growths the size of a grapefruit, two plums and quarter were all living happily, filling up my entire pelvic bowl while I went about my life. 


As my surgeon at Mayo Clinic told me on our first consultation, “Mollie, no 37-year old woman should be waking up in the middle of every night to pee.”

What a metaphor, huh?


So often, we don’t consider taking care of ourselves until we’re sick. Our body (and our doctor) demands our attention, and finally we yield. We start taking supplements and lifting weights. We go back to yoga class. We take the course. We start cooking at home again. We drink less (or give it up entirely). 


When life demands it, we listen. But what about when she whispers to us? 


There were plenty of hints my body gave along the way — including the very typical, yet not-talked-about symptom of someone with a 10cm uterine fibroid: Looking in the mirror and swearing to myself that either I’m the vessel of immaculate conception (it's impossible for Sean and I to conceive naturally), or despite my incredibly active lifestyle, I somehow got really chubby. 


None of it made sense — and looking back, none of it made me feel very good. My body was whispering for my attention, making my life harder... and I either I couldn’t hear her, wasn’t listening, or — what I suspect — is that I didn’t speak her language at the time. 
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Call the last six months my Rosetta Stone, because I definitely speak my body’s language now!

As I consider all my most life-changing moments over the last decade, it’s been a consistent spiritual practice alongside movement that brings me back to myself. I fall away from myself, and yoga brings me back. I make a discovery like I did this summer, and yoga brought me back. I'm so grateful to have the tools and techniques I do to move through this — and every — obstacle that comes my way.


I’m determined to make 2024 (and beyond) a life of attentiveness and assertiveness when my body whispers. Better yet, I aim to anticipate her whispers before they happen, and choose routine maintenance over ignoring my one-and-only absolutely perfect skin sack.



As a stranger, hobbling with a cane said to me as she walked through a door I held for her at the post office last week, “Enjoy your youth!” 


I smiled and assured her I would. And I will!


Wherever you are, no matter the condition of your skin sack, please know that you are worth the investment your heart is begging you to make in your health and your happiness. We only get this one life. Live it, baby!


Sending love,
Mollie

As I walked into the Nordic Spa in Girdwood, Alaska on Sunday, I realized I’d never done a "spa day" with the intention of staying the entire day.

The SMELL of the place is enough to relax me — let alone the fact that an in-person yoga class was in my near future (omg)... followed by a plethora of saunas, steam baths, hot tea, cold plunges, hot tubs and more. 


I walked into the yoga studio, pulled my mat out of its bag, rolled it out... and froze.


I self-consciously looked side-to-side to see if anyone else was seeing the situation: My bright yellow yoga mat, covered in dirty smudges and paw prints. Evidence of a dog-loving yogi’s life well-lived... and, my ego (mortified) thought to herself: Sooooo out-of-place here!


I snagged a bottle of essential-oil infused cleaner, and furiously scrubbed my mat for (likely) the first time in its life. After many minutes of attempted dirt removal, I sat back, surveyed the lack of progress, and gave up. The smudges weren’t going anywhere until a washing machine was involved. 


This is me, I thought. Sunny vibes, dirt smudged, and ready to roll.


As soon as my teacher walked into the space, all shame for my mat’s appearance evaporated. I gave Andie a big hug and had another realization: It’s been many *many* years since I’ve had the honor of taking a class away from home from one of my students! 

Andie is grounded and charismatic — and always makes everyone feel at home wherever she goes. She was a student of SHEWild YTT with me in the arctic two years ago, and today, she teaches yoga (and practices massage) around Girdwood, Alaska, including Sunday mornings at 10am where I found myself this past weekend. 


As she cued up some tunes and offered props around the room, I watched in awe. Every single person in the room felt seen and heard as they voiced nerves about doing yoga after a long hiatus, or felt sore from a few days of skiing at Alyeska. Andie smiled and nodded, reassuring each student they were right where they needed to be — and the entire class could be modified to suit their needs. Dirt smudges or no, all were welcome in that room.

And then she taught KRIYA! 

It’s one thing for me to take a yoga class in-person — but it’s a treat to take a class in-person that’s taught in the style I love the most! My soul was singing with every CHHHH of Prana Shakti and CHH-CHHH of Shiva Kriya (IYKYK). My immune system sung during Lama Pranayama, and my aching body relished the asana flow in the middle.


Savasana was — literally — magic. 


By the final bow at the end of class, I knew I’d been given a gift. The gift, and the certain glow, that I’ve found only kriya yoga can give me:

Thank you, Andie <3 

Sending love,
​Mollie