TAOU 2: EVERYTHING

Opening a business is hard, but also everything. It is what you make of it. our perspective and how we handle ourselves in it. knowing that eventually spring comes. the sun comes up. and flowers bloom

(in time)

In 2022, going around in a circle saying our word in a small yoga training in NY, my teacher Josie, the last to go, said everything. That moment and word stuck with me. It is rarely or never just one thing. We can be nervous and excited, grateful and overwhelmed, joyful and exhausted — all at the same time. If she, life, and Shrek(iykyk) taught me anything it’s that things can be simple and complex. Layers within layers. It’s everything.

Building TAOU 2 this past almost year now has been exactly that.

We signed the lease in May 2025 and stepped into doing the thin, and the thing (TAOU2) is still in the making .. unfolding, like Origami, takes patience, practice, some folding and unfolding and refolding to make a crane. Along the way there has been fear, excitement, gratitude, and everything in between. I’ve cried tears of joy, tears of overwhelm, tears of frustration and anger. Some days have felt light and hopeful, others draining and uncertain.

And somehow, it’s all part of it. Part of the journey, the practice, and the experience. Second Nature.

Opening something, creating something, choosing to do “the thing”, whatever that thing may be for you, can bring you into contact with every part of yourself. The beautiful parts, the strong parts, the insecure parts, the parts that doubt, and the parts that believe anyway, and more.

“everything”

The funny thing about doing the thing or not doing the thing is that every experience is deeply personal. No two things are alike. Building TAOU 1 and building TAOU 2 have not been the same. Donnie opening Grisette isn’t the same as opening Jardin(he was a little mentor to me, go Donnie!!). Even Katie and I, building the same space, are experiencing this process differently. What works for someone else won’t exactly work for you or in the same way. And that is all okay.

Everything moves and shifts, like the tide or the seasons. Even though winter comes every year, it never feels exactly the same. And part of that is because we are different each time we arrive there. We’re in a different season of our own life. We’ve changed. We see things differently.

So the experience changes too.

If you have been following TAOU, coming to classes, or know me more personally you may know our timeline has shifted and evolved. We wanted to open in November (2025) that got pushed to January. Then February. Then to March. March felt good. More realistic. Even “right” in my mind aligning with spring. So, we have been planning for weeks to open March 21(on the DL), spring!! Final inspection was supposed to be today, we planned meetings, set up internet and we felt “ready”(whatever that means). Yesterday we found out that our final inspections for the new space were pushed to next Friday (3/20) which means we can not open the 21. And for a moment, it pulled me right back into that place of the unknown. That feeling of treading water without being able to see land yet. That oh shit, what now? moment.

But then I remembered something Josie, my teacher once said:

When we’re lost, and in the unknown, pause. It is the time to pull out the map. To take a moment to orient yourself. To get a handle on where you are right now.

When you know where you are on the map, you can see things differently. You can see a clearer understanding of where you are,  see the paths around you. The options. + the direction you might want to go.

It’s not about avoiding the unknown. It’s about learning how to handle ourselves while we’re in it.

The moments of being lost, overwhelmed and the “hard things” shape us. They strengthen us. In the same way that waves shape rock — slowly, over time — pressure and persistence carve something durable. Something resilient.

And maybe that’s part of the point.

Maybe we aren’t meant to move through life without resistance. Maybe the contrast , the uncertainty, the waiting, the figuring it out as we go is exactly what gives the journey its texture and dimension.

Eventually spring comes.

The sun rises again.
Flowers bloom. We will open.

Maybe not as expected. Not instantly. Not perfectly(what is?).

But in time.

Thank you for everything. For showing up. Reminding me it is okay. Being alongside us through the waiting, the shifting timelines, and the unknown moments. It means more than you know to have this community standing with us.

We can not wait to practice with you soon.

Stay tuned friends,

Kat