Why We Started Sea Light - and What Nearly Stopped Us

A seed planted nearly two decades ago

Nearly two decades ago, I walked into a yoga class not knowing that something in me was about to shift.

My co-creator, who is also my dear sister Neelam, had already been going for a few years. For me, it was my first time stepping into that world.

I remember looking forward to the weekly ritual of meeting Neelam and our cousin sister, Rosey, for class. At the time, I mostly saw it as a chance to be together, move, laugh and try something new.

My first takeaway was: this is intense.

I remember struggling to twist and turn, glancing over to see what the other two were doing, and wanting to burst into giggles as Rosey gave sound effects to exactly what I was feeling. An “ouch,” or “oh my God,” as the teacher showed us the next move.

My second takeaway was: I want to keep learning. Something quieter had been planted.

A seed planted nearly two decades ago has grown into Sea Light -

A way to bring mindful movement, breath, nature and everyday wellbeing practices to children and the adults who care for them.

What I wished I had learned earlier

There was something in yoga and meditation practice that helped me feel steadier.

More okay within myself.
More able to quiet a busy mind.
More able to notice what was happening inside me.

And I remember wondering: What if we had learned this when we were younger?

What first attracted me to yoga was the movement. The bending, twisting, turning. The surprise of what the body could do. Over time, I began to appreciate how it was fun, but with a good dose of challenge. It supported my balance, strength and coordination. What I did not realise was how much it would affect my mind. It was like the difference between choppy waves and smooth ripples of water.

I would leave class feeling more able to meet life. More able to focus. More able to question what I really needed, especially when I felt distracted, unsettled, or pulled towards something that was not really going to support me.

I realise now I was building habits that supported self-awareness. I was learning to breathe, really breathe. I was beginning to understand that big feelings come and go. I was discovering that there can be space between thoughts.

These were qualities I wished I had learned earlier in life.

Back then, I had no idea how much these practices would go on to influence my relationship with myself, my choices, the people around me, and, most importantly, my heart.

As time went on, that feeling grew stronger:

I would love to support younger humans to learn this, one day.

I did not know how.
I did not know when.
I just knew the seed was there.

When habits become rituals

For a while, practice was a tired end-of-week Friday evening ritual. I would drop everything from work and go to class.

Sometimes it felt indulgent. Sometimes it felt like exactly what I needed. The studio would be calm and softly lit, even as the noise of Soho lifted up from the street below. Each evening, I would arrive home feeling rejuvenated, revived and full of yearning to learn more. Eventually, I wondered: why wait until next Friday?

So I began trying to practise at home.

It was not polished or perfect. Some mornings, it looked like coffee in hand, 6am, bleary eyed, wondering what asana I could possibly do while lying down half-asleep on my mat. Maybe Shavasana was made for this? ;).

But that is how it began. Every morning, I would try to find fifteen minutes to do some kind of practice. Some days it was sitting with my breath. Other days it was movement. Other days it was simply giving myself a moment before the day began. I noticed I arrived into my day steadier. More assured. Less anxious about the meetings ahead. Some days were still thought-filled, but I felt more okay with that.

It was me, letting myself be me.

Fast forward fifteen years, and my practice is the same-same, but different. There is more space now, and less rigidity around what I do and when I do it.

Checking in is my ritual.

Movement has become less about following a sequence and more about listening to my body. Understanding what I need. Asking what would help me meet this moment with a little more steadiness.

…All the while, the seed rooted.

Why Nature Flow mattered to us

Over the years, Neelam and I have both grown in our own ways of practising, reflecting and bringing wellbeing tools into everyday life.

We began to notice how these tools show up in simple ways. Grounding with a tree. Feeling into the grass. Stretching the body gently. Taking a breath before responding. Moving with curiosity rather than pressure.

We started asking:

What if children could learn simple tools that support their mental health and wellbeing earlier in life? What if they could practise movement, nature connection, inner reflection and curiosity about feelings in a way that felt playful and easy to relate to? What if the adults who care for them could have simple practices too?

That is where Nature Flow began to emerge.

The idea of Nature Flow became a way to bring movement, nature and breath practice together through story. A young girl, Earth, explores the natural world with her puppy, Sesame. Through each page, she moves, notices, breathes and reconnects. For us, Earth mattered too. We wanted children, including children of colour, to see a strong, gentle, curious lead character moving through nature with confidence and wonder. We wanted her to offer a sense of possibility.

A reminder that wellbeing does not belong to one kind of child, one kind of classroom, or one kind of family.

It belongs to all of us.

What nearly stopped us

Even as Sea Light began to take shape, the doubts were there.

Who would listen?
Could we really do this?
Could we explain what we meant?
Was there already too much out there?

There were already so many beautiful books, practices, teachers and resources in the world. So we kept coming back to the same question:

Why us?

For a while, that question slowed us down.

Maybe you know that feeling too. Having something in your heart, but wondering whether there is room for it. Whether it is needed. Whether you are the right person to bring it forward.

Why we kept going

What kept bringing us back was the practice itself.

These teachings are thousands of years old. They have been carried through time because they hold something real: a way of understanding the body, the breath, the mind, nature, and our relationship with ourselves.

And we felt the difference.

We felt it in the way movement helped us feel more grounded.
We felt it in the way breath gave us space.
We felt it in the way nature helped us reconnect.
We felt it in the way practice helped us notice what was happening inside, rather than being swept away by it.

Not perfectly. Not every time. But enough to know it mattered. That became the reason to keep going.

Because if movement, breath, nature and mindful awareness could support us as adults, what might they offer children if they met them earlier?

What might change if a child learned that their body could help them settle? That a breath could create space between their thoughts? That nature could help them feel part of this planet - as special as every daisy, cloud and tree? That feelings could move through them rather than define them?

Sea Light became our way of sharing that. Like a wave. Like a beam of light. One small practice at a time.

A moment to pause, notice and return

Mindful Moment

Place one hand on your heart and one hand on your belly.

Take a slow breath in.

As you breathe out, ask yourself:

What seed was planted in me long ago that still wants to grow?

No need to answer quickly. Just notice what comes