The Yoga Teacher Needs a Yoga Teacher

After nearly a decade of standing at the front of the room, I think it’s time for me to sit down.

If you’ve noticed that Mindful Motions has been a little quiet lately, there’s a reason.

I’ve been mostly offline, living through a season that has stretched me in almost every direction.

For the past year, I’ve been working toward my master’s degree in Clinical Mental Health Counseling while continuing to run Mindful Motions, prepare for retreats, attend night classes, write papers, complete clinical hours, raise my family, and work as a counseling intern at a local crisis center.

It has been one of the biggest challenges of my life.

There have been long days and even longer nights. There have been moments when I wondered how I could possibly fit one more responsibility into an already very full life.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I realized something:

I don’t want to stop practicing yoga. I want to stop always being the one teaching it.

Coming Back to the Mat

Teaching yoga has been part of my life for nearly a decade.

Ten years is a long time to spend standing at the front of a room, but when I think about what I have learned, it has very little to do with perfect alignment or memorizing sequences.

I’ve learned an immense amount about myself.

About my practice.

About people.

About what it means to be human.

Yoga has taught me that we don’t arrive at some final, perfected version of ourselves. We don’t graduate from being human.

We fall.

We get sick.

We get distracted.

Our bodies change.

Our lives change.

We lose our way.

We make mistakes.

We become tired.

We start again.

And we come back to the mat.

Again and again.

Over the years, I’ve also learned how much shame we carry around simply being human. We think we should be further along. More disciplined. More healed. More patient. More successful.

Yoga has given me another way to look at that.

To notice without judgment.

To remain humble.

To become curious.

To let go when something no longer serves me.

To begin again.

And to keep moving toward what is true.

I think that is part of what I mean when I talk about mindfulness and wellness. It isn’t about creating a perfectly calm, perfectly balanced life.

It is about learning how to be present for the life we actually have.

And then, when we can, using what we’ve learned to feed a little more goodness into the world around us.

The Other Place I’ve Been Learning to Hold Space

My counseling education has deepened all of this in ways I couldn’t have anticipated when I began this journey.

As an intern at a crisis center, I have had the privilege—and the weight—of sitting with people during some of the hardest moments of their lives.

People have trusted me with their fear, grief, trauma, anger, confusion, and pain.

There is something humbling about being allowed into those moments.

You learn quickly that sometimes there isn’t a perfect thing to say.

Sometimes you can’t fix it.

Sometimes the most important thing you can do is stay.

Listen.

Help someone find their footing.

Hold space.

And let them move through their own journey.

That work has changed me.

And it has made me understand even more deeply why yoga has always mattered to me.

Because, for me, yoga was never just about stretching or exercise.

It has always been about the relationship between the mind and body. About learning to notice what is happening inside us. About developing the capacity to stay present with ourselves—even when what we find there isn’t particularly comfortable.

The more I learn about counseling, the more I recognize the same wisdom that drew me to yoga in the first place.

The brain and the body are connected.

Our experiences live in us.

Mindfulness can create space between what happens to us and how we respond.

Healing isn’t linear.

And none of us are finished becoming.

This has made something increasingly clear to me:

Yoga and counseling were never really two separate paths.

They are different expressions of the same things I have always cared about—connection, awareness, compassion, growth, and the courage to look honestly at ourselves.

The Part That Breaks My Heart

Even knowing all of this, stepping away from regular teaching is not easy.

My heart is broken in some ways.

I have loved this.

I have loved our little space.

I have loved the kids’ smiling faces and hearing, “Watch this, Miss Kristin!”

I will miss the adults who lingered afterward for coffee or a catch-up.

I will miss the positive energy that so many of you brought through those doors.

I will miss the tears.

The laughter.

The fears.

The anger.

The celebrations.

The stories people shared.

The moments when someone walked into class carrying something heavy and left just a little lighter.

I will miss watching people become more comfortable in their own bodies and more compassionate toward themselves.

I will miss watching our community grow and being trusted with the very human parts of people’s lives.

This has never felt like simply a business to me.

It has been a community.

It has been a place where we have witnessed one another being human.

And I will always be grateful for that.

So I’m Choosing to Be a Student Again

This isn’t me walking away from yoga.

It is me returning to it differently.

After nearly ten years of being the person at the front of the room, I need to experience what it feels like to simply walk into a studio, put my mat down, and let someone else hold the space.

I don’t need to think about the sequence.

Or the playlist.

Or the temperature.

Or whether everyone is having a good experience.

I just need to breathe.

Move.

Listen.

Receive.

For a while, I need someone else to guide me.

And I think there is something really beautiful about that.

I need my time on the mat.

And I have been going.

I’ve been going as a student.

And it has been humbling.

I’ve fallen in class.

I’ve had to leave class with a terrible stomach bug.

I’ve had a medical procedure that took me away from my practice for a week.

My children’s schedules have changed.

I’ve had last-minute discussion boards to finish, forgotten assignments, papers, clinical responsibilities, and all of the other things that make up a very full life.

Sometimes I make it to class and feel completely connected to my practice.

Sometimes I feel distracted.

Sometimes I don’t feel particularly strong.

Sometimes I fall.

And sometimes life simply gets in the way.

But I keep coming back.

And that, perhaps more than anything, is what ten years of teaching yoga has taught me.

We come back.

We come back after the missed class.

After the difficult season.

After the setback.

After the fall.

After the body changes.

After life takes us somewhere we didn’t expect to go.

We come back without shame.

What Happens to Mindful Motions?

Mindful Motions isn’t going away.

It is changing as I change.

For now, I am stepping away from maintaining a regular teaching schedule. I won’t be on the schedule at another studio either.

I’m going to practice.

Hopefully often.

Hopefully daily.

I’m going to be a student. I’m going to explore different studios, different teachers, different styles, and probably a few classes that make me wonder what I was thinking when I signed up.

And I’m looking forward to it.

But here’s the part I really hope you’ll take me up on:

Shoot me a text.

I’m always looking for a friend to roll out a mat with.

Maybe we try a new studio together.

Maybe we take a class we haven’t tried before.

Maybe we meet for coffee afterward.

Maybe we don’t say much at all.

Maybe we laugh about how badly our balance was that day.

I spent a decade creating a space where people could come together to practice, connect, laugh, cry, grow, and simply be human.

Now I’d love to experience some of that from the other side of the room.

With you.

And Mindful Motions?

It’s still here.

It’s just becoming something a little different.

I am allowing myself to dream about what comes next rather than forcing it to happen before it is ready.

I can see a future where the things I have spent my life learning begin to come together in a deeper way.

Yoga.

Counseling.

Mindfulness.

Movement.

Healing.

Community.

Personal growth.

A place centered around joy, healing, connection, and becoming more fully ourselves.

I don’t know exactly what that will look like yet.

But I’m excited to find out.

For now, I am going to finish this degree.

I am going to continue learning how to sit beside people in some of the hardest moments of their lives.

I am going to keep practicing.

I am going to keep learning.

And I am going to keep being a student.

Because the practice isn’t about mastering the pose.

It isn’t about getting it right.

It is about returning.

To the breath.

To the body.

To ourselves.

To one another.

And then, when we’re ready,

to the mat.

So if you see me around town with a yoga mat under my arm, come say hello.

And if you want to practice together, you know where to find me.

Shoot me a text.

Let’s roll out our mats.

With gratitude and love,

Kristin

Mindful Motions Yoga: Confidently connecting the brain, body, and community.