You have a body. You have sensations. And you have blind spots the size of a parking garage.

I built a room full of skilled dependents. That's not teaching. That's a cult of personality with good hamstring flexibility.

Most yoga teachers handle an injury the same three ways: panic, guess, and then either tell the student to stop entirely or pretend nothing happened.

Yoga comes from India. This should not be controversial. And yet.

You don't yet know whether they're excited about yoga, or excited about winning at yoga. And neither do they.

You wear two hats, and one of them is quietly killing the other.

Most yoga teachers become leaders by accident. You open a shala, people show up, and suddenly you're making decisions that affect their lives — and nobody handed you a manual.

Most yoga spaces handle conflict the same way. They don't. And "keep it on the mat" works great for exactly one person in the room — the one with all the power.

For years I hid every struggle. Only showed the poses that came easy. Covered up the Sanskrit I mispronounced like nobody heard it. And when I hurt a student with bad instruction, I said nothing. Just moved on.

You can own three things and still explain the bandhas like a fortune cookie written by a thesaurus. Having less stuff is not the same as being clear.