The Old Schoolhouse Taught Me Everything I Needed to Know About Wealth…

There’s a 100-year-old schoolhouse in East Texas that’s still teaching me lessons — even though the chalkboards are gone and the classrooms have been transformed.

It belonged to Aunt Ruth — technically my uncle’s wife’s aunt — who taught school in the building as a young woman and later retired there. Her husband, a retired pharmacist, turned it into a quiet sanctuary of healing. I’ve kept the old potbelly stove, turned the cloakroom into a bathroom, and found the original school bell, just waiting to ring again.

We restored it all — the schoolhouse, the barn, even the koi ponds and pergolas — and turned it into a place called Elmwood Place Pilates. The Pilates studio is tucked into a separate tiny home, surrounded by gardens, granite walkways, and peaceful decks. There’s a fire pit, two pergolas (one with a hammock), a sparkling pool, and white Natchez crape myrtles blooming in every direction. Aunt Ruth’s handwritten recipe cards are still in the kitchen — her lemon poppy seed pound cake is legendary — and her husband’s old work table now lives under the pergola as an outdoor dining space.

Elmwood Place isn’t just a retreat space. It’s a return. A return to presence, to breath, to strength. We host weekend getaways and Conscious Contact retreats — a method I created that blends classical Pilates, equine-guided trust work, and nervous system healing. It’s about moving from your center, regaining calm, and rediscovering leadership through your body.

These days, I still teach — but now it’s the nervous system instead of spelling. It’s embodiment instead of arithmetic. The lessons are quieter, deeper, and longer-lasting. One of the required readings in our retreat is The Book of Ruth. When I made the connection to Aunt Ruth, I got full God bumps. Full circle.

I used to think wealth meant hustle. Long hours. Always being available. But now I know better. Real wealth looks like beauty, space, purpose, nervous system peace, and deep roots.

And luxury? Luxury is being offline. In the hammock under the white crape myrtles. By the firepit. In the silence of a place built to teach you how to come back to yourself.

The old schoolhouse is still doing its job — just differently. It’s a classroom of the body now. And I’m still the student.

Follow me on Instagram: @thepilatescowgirl | @elmwoodplacetx

Learn more at: www.elmwoodplacetx.com | www.thegoodspacehouston.com