Table of Contents
- Introduction
- There is No Such Thing as The Perfect Pose
- Props Create Possibility
- Rest is a Skill
- Less Is More
- Yoga Illuminates What’s Already There
Introduction
When I first started teaching yoga, I thought I would be the one sharing lessons with my students. Turns out, they were the ones teaching me all along.
For many years early in my teaching career, I believed my role was to guide people into poses, help them improve their alignment, and support them in becoming stronger and more flexible.
Over time, something unexpected happened. The poses became far less important than the people embodying them.
The longer I taught, the more I realized that yoga isn’t about achieving a particular shape. It’s about learning to pay attention: to our bodies, our breath, our thoughts, and the changing seasons of our lives.
These are five of the most meaningful lessons Yoga has taught me over the past two decades.
1. There is No Such Thing as The Perfect Pose
One of the first things I let go of was the idea that there is one “right” way to do a pose.
Every student arrives with a different history, anatomy, level of mobility, and intention. A cue that serves one person may be completely unhelpful, or even inappropriate, for another.
Rather than asking, “How can this student make their pose look like the image in my teacher training manual?” I now find myself asking, “How can this pose serve the person in front of me?”
That subtle shift changed everything. Yoga became less about achieving an ideal, one size fits all shape, and more about cultivating awareness, curiosity, presence, and compassion.
Instead of one “right” way to do a pose, I now realize there are endless ways to embody the essence of the pose in a way that is right for each person on that particular day. And for most of us, the pose likely won’t look like the image in a book or on an Instagram post.
I used to love looking at a packed yoga class and seeing everyone moving in unison, their alignment almost photocopies of one another. I would even offer assists and adjustments to help people get their poses closer to some arbitrary ideal.
Now, I delight in the diversity of pose expressions in class. The more varied, the better. No two poses will ever look alike because no two students are alike. And that’s beautiful.
2. Props Create Possibility
When I first started practicing, the ethos in Yoga was that props were for beginners or for people who “couldn’t” do a pose.
That idea couldn’t be more wrong.
Over the years, I’ve come to see props as some of the most versatile teaching tools available. Sure, they can make a pose more accessible, but they can also deepen awareness, increase challenge, provide feedback, offer support, or simply help us experience a pose in a different way.
A block can bring the floor closer. A bolster can transform a pose into an opportunity for deep rest or create space where the body needs it. Straps can lengthen body parts, like an arm in a bind, when someone has a long torso like me! Sometimes the most advanced practice is knowing when to use props.
Our bodies are not the same from one decade to the next. They aren’t even the same from one day to the next. Injury, pregnancy, aging, stress, sleep, energy levels, and even our emotional state can all influence how we move and what we need from our practice.
Our intentions change, too. Some days we practice to build strength. Other days we practice to find steadiness. Sometimes we simply need a place to breathe. Props allow our practice to evolve along with us.
Rather than asking whether we “need” a prop, I now encourage students to ask,“What would help me experience this pose more fully today?” That question opens the door to curiosity instead of judgment. Because it’s not just our bodies that change. It’s our lives. Twenty years ago, yoga may have been about building strength. Later it may have become about balancing motherhood, work, or stress. Now, perhaps, it’s about nervous system regulation, longevity, or simply feeling at home in your body.
Yoga doesn’t ask us to be the same person every time we step onto the mat. It simply asks us to show up.
3. Rest is a Skill
If you had told me twenty years ago that some of the most profound moments in a yoga class would happen while people were lying still, I probably wouldn’t have believed you.
Like many people, I associated a practice with effort. I thought the most “successful” classes were the ones that left students sweaty, sore, or physically challenged. Then I began teaching Yin and Restorative Yoga, and I witnessed people struggle far more with stillness than with balancing poses, handstands, or arm balances. In the more still poses I saw minds race, bodies fidget, and shoulders struggle to soften. I even remember instances years ago when students would quietly sneak out of class just before final relaxation because they didn’t appreciate it’s subtle but priceless value… yet. I realized that for many of us, slowing down isn’t easy. It takes practice.
Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate that rest isn’t something we earn after we’ve exhausted ourselves. It is something we cultivate along the way. Sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is pause. To allow ourselves to receive instead of always striving. In a world that constantly asks us to produce, achieve, and hurry, choosing to rest can be one of the most radical acts of self-care.
Perhaps the greatest lesson rest has taught me is that our worth has never been determined by how much we accomplish. And, sometimes the deepest transformation happens when nothing appears to be happening at all.
4. Less Is More
When I first started teaching yoga, I thought every moment needed to be filled.
I meticulously wrote out every pose, every sequence, and each transition in my journal. I filled every silence with words. I wanted students to leave feeling like they had learned something new and practiced a mind blowing sequence they had never seen before!
With experience came a surprising realization. The most meaningful moments often happened when I stopped talking. The pause between instructions gave students space to notice something for themselves. A quieter class allowed them to hear their own breath. To notice their own thoughts.
Over the years, I’ve learned that good teaching isn’t always about offering more. It’s often about offering what matters most. A simpler sequence often create an opportunity to move with greater awareness rather than rushing toward the next pose.
I’ve also discovered that every practice doesn’t need to be complicated to be transformative. Some of the classes students remember most aren’t the ones with the most creative sequences or the most advanced poses. They’re the ones where they felt present, where they felt seen, and where they remembered something about themselves they had forgotten.
I’ve come to appreciate that there is wisdom in simplicity. There is no need to click through a laundry list of cues we always say, no need to teach on autopilot or fill every moment with words. Sometimes students are already exactly where they need to be.
After all these years, I’ve realized that less isn’t less. Sometimes less allows us to experience more.
5. Yoga Illuminates What’s Already There
One of the greatest gifts yoga has given me is the ability to notice. Not to judge, not to force, but simply to notice.
Some days I step onto the mat feeling energized. Other days I arrive carrying stress, grief, excitement, fatigue, agitation, or uncertainty. The practice doesn’t ask me to pretend otherwise. It simply shines a light on what is already present.
Over the years, I’ve also learned that no two nervous systems respond the same way. One student finds peace in silence. Another feels more regulated with music. For some, a breathing practice creates a sense of calm. For others, it can feel overwhelming. Even the same person may need something different from one day to the next.
There is no universal formula.
The invitation is to become curious enough to notice what helps us feel more grounded, more connected, and more fully ourselves. And that awareness extends far beyond the yoga mat. It influences how we move through relationships, how we respond to stress, how we care for ourselves, and how we show up for others.
I’ve come to believe that the awareness we begin to cultivate on the mat, is the awareness that opens up our lives to something bigger. The next step can only emerge from noticing what’s already there.
After twenty years of teaching, I know Yoga’s purpose is not to help us become someone different. I believe its purpose is to help us see ourselves more clearly. And, when we learn to pay attention with curiosity instead of judgment, we discover that everything we need to begin is already here.
Whether we step onto the mat for five minutes or an hour, Yoga continues to meet us exactly where we are, quietly illuminating what has been there all along.