Founder & Lead Trainer
I began practising yoga at fifteen through a high school teacher-led program. What started as curiosity became something else entirely — not just a love of movement, but a feeling I hadn't been able to name before: connection. Clarity. Belonging.
I had been a dancer my whole life. I understood discipline and physical demand. But dance carried its own weight — the competition, the comparison, the unspoken pressure to be sharper, better, more. Yoga asked nothing of me like that. There was no performance. No ranking. Just me, the mat, and whatever I brought to it that day.
I practised with discipline through my senior years. In a room where there was no competition, I paradoxically found myself improving faster than I ever had in dance. I also found something I hadn't known I was missing — a calm, centred stillness at my own centre. I chose not to pursue dance professionally. But movement, in a different form, never left.
After school, I began a Bachelor of Nutrition and Dietetics. Within weeks, I knew it was wrong. My anxiety climbed. Isolation followed. Depression arrived quietly, the way it tends to.
What saved me — the way it had before — was movement. I found a yoga studio that required three and a half hours of travel every day, and I made that journey anyway. It became my sanctuary. What had once been a physical practice became something much larger: a tool for healing, for self-awareness, for learning to regulate what was happening inside me. I began to understand movement not as exercise, but as medicine.
It was through yoga that I discovered Pilates — first for its physical precision and challenge, then for something deeper. Pilates restored strength and balance in ways yoga alone couldn't. And when I later found barre, I felt the final piece fall into place. Three practices, each offering something different: yoga for awareness and breath, Pilates for strength and alignment, barre for endurance and rhythm. Together, they became my integrated movement practice — the one I have depended on ever since.
I transferred to the University of Queensland to study Speech Pathology — a degree that deepened my understanding of anatomy, neuroscience, psychology, and how human beings learn and communicate. I began teaching yoga on campus while I studied. My passion for intelligent, thoughtful movement was growing in parallel with my academic training, and I could feel them informing each other in ways I hadn't expected.
By the time I graduated with my Bachelor of Speech Pathology (Honours) in 2018, I was teaching yoga, Pilates and barre across multiple studios and fitness spaces in Brisbane — Barre Body Studios, Brisbane Barre Studio, Flight Centre, UQ — and building a reputation not just as a teacher, but as someone who understood how these practices layered and reinforced each other.
Movement rooted in kindness. Practice built on intelligence. A studio where you came not to be broken down — but to be genuinely, sustainably built up. That was the vision that had been forming for years before Kynd had a name.
After graduating, I returned to Cairns and began work as a Speech Pathologist — first in private practice, then in education. I loved the work and the teams I was part of. But the pull toward yoga and Pilates never quieted. By 2019, I was teaching at every studio and gym in Cairns that would have me. There was nowhere offering barre. There was nowhere doing all three together. There was nowhere doing things the way I believed they should be done.
So in September 2019, I founded Barre & Co. in collaboration with the Tanks Arts Centre — a timetable, a community, a beautiful space for people moving for the joy of it.
Then the bushfires came. Then lockdowns.
In 2020, I did what I've always done when the ground disappears beneath me: I adapted. I coded a membership site from scratch, moved everything online, offered free classes to people who had lost their income, and taught seventeen classes a week around a full-time job. Not because I had to. Because I knew — from my own life — what movement could give people in the dark.
During lockdown I also went deeper into yoga philosophy than I ever had before, completing over 125 additional hours of advanced study in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, pranayama, and meditation. One teaching in particular stopped me completely.
I turned the word over. Spelled it differently. And it clicked. Kynd.
When restrictions eased, I chose to go all in. Kynd Studios opened in Edge Hill in 2021. In 2025, I opened a second studio in Stratford. In 2026, Kynd put down its permanent roots there — in my own hometown suburb. The same suburb where, in 2011, I rolled out a mat for the first time in a high school classroom and felt something I couldn't name.
I can name it now.
My training spans anatomy and movement science, classical Pilates lineage, yoga philosophy, mental health, and pedagogy. Every qualification informs how I teach — and how I train the next generation of teachers at Kynd.
Every qualification on that list exists because I genuinely wanted to understand — not just to teach better, but to serve better. To know why a body moves the way it does. To understand the relationship between the nervous system and breath, between ancient philosophy and modern pain. To be the kind of teacher who can meet you wherever you are.
Education has always been my other great passion — which is why I write and facilitate every Kynd teacher training myself. When I stand in front of a class or a cohort of trainees, I'm not drawing on one qualification. I'm drawing on over 2,500 hours of formal training across yoga, Pilates, barre, meditation and movement science — plus more than 7,200 hours teaching at the front of the room. That's what it looks like to spend five years teaching thirty classes a week because you genuinely cannot imagine doing anything else.
I built Kynd for the person I used to be. The one who needed to be told that showing up was enough. That their body didn't need to be punished to be worthy of care. That this practice, this community, this space — was theirs.
And then life kept moving, as it does. Kynd has grown with me — through motherhood, through the depths of sleep deprivation, through the impossible juggle of life, business and being a mother. It has held me in every season. It has been the one constant, the one hour where I come back to myself.
I've built it to keep growing with me — and with you. With the woman who is navigating new motherhood and needs to feel strong in her body again. With the one who is fifty and wants to move without pain. With the future Nonna me, building a body that is capable, resilient and completely her own — whatever season she's in, whatever life has handed her.
A body that is pain-free, completely capable, and strong enough to live life to the fullest. No matter the season. That's what Kynd is for.
An intro offer designed to let you explore everything — before you commit to a thing.
