By Laura Adams — Last Updated: November 15, 2024

Every time I walk through the studio doors, preparing to hold the seat of the teacher, I whisper two things to myself: May my words flow meaningfully, and may my presence be felt as the safe space I intend for it to be.

Sometimes my intentions land, and I feel the mystical thing called flow. Other times, my humanness shows too much, as evidenced by an elbow becoming a knee cue or other directions that feel about as clear as mud. Still, we have fun practicing together, a synergy between teacher and student; it’s a kind of magic I never really thought would be possible for me.

My truth is this: It took me years to take the leap and become a yoga teacher. Even during training, I didn’t know if I wanted to guide a practice. Did I really want to put myself through the weekly potential, and likelihood, of failing at something I believe is incredibly important? This thing – this practice called yoga – that people rely on to rediscover their peace, wholeness, and sanity? Who did I think I was?

The task was heavy.

I felt incapable.

Moreover, I am one of those souls who fears most things less than public speaking. The idea that people are watching me and listening to me every week is borderline traumatic. In high school, I knocked over a podium during a speech because my hands were shaking so badly. It’s not an experience I’ve forgotten.

Despite my reluctance, when I signed up for teacher training, I felt a deep call to helm yoga classes alongside the uncertainty. It began as a whisper while I was a student on my mat; eventually, it became so loud that I didn’t hear my teachers as they guided me in practice anymore. It was my voice leading the way, enlightening me on why I was standing triumphant in Warrior 2 or lifting my branches in Tree pose. I knew my answers innately, and the stories that came to me were too real to ignore. I had to push forward. Still, I couldn’t figure out why.

I resisted so much.

I don’t resist anymore.

Why? Because as I’ve grounded myself in teaching at Green Lotus for half a decade, the answer to why I teach has arrived in equal parts love and compassion:

You are my reason, coupled with the honest space we create together again and again.

I’ve wanted to throw in the towel a couple of times when crippling doubt overtakes my brain. As a new, deliriously tired mom, these untruths about my worthiness creep up more often than I’d like to admit. Still, the classes I guide aren’t about me, and the more I hold this reality in the center of my heart, the more I feel like I’ve found one of my life’s persistent dharmas. Simply put, my teacher role is to let you find your way into your yoga practice by cultivating your confidence to do so. Just as my teachers did for me.

As Thanksgiving draws near - a traditional time of gratitude - I offer you my sincerest thanks for sharing your practices. I am beyond humbled to serve as witness to the new journeys you create every time you roll out your mats, trusting that the present moment will provide you with whatever is meant to be. I see you for who you are - superheroes in your own lives. Every pose proves it through the modifications you naturally embody and the ways you make the postures your own, often without me even saying anything. I am fortunate to witness your extraordinary feats. From my vantage point, you are artists, and what you are discovering within yourselves are masterpieces of the human experience.

It feels underwhelming to say it’s an honor and a pleasure to serve you all, whether you don’t prefer me or you resonate with the very human I am. I say it anyway. I mean this from the bottom of my heart: Thank you for holding a safe space for me, too. I couldn’t do what I do without you. However, mark my words, you can do what you’re doing without me. This fact is not lost to me. I am the lucky one, each and every week.

I like to infuse the classes I teach with what makes yoga sacred – an ancient belief that we are most at peace when our bodies, minds, and breath are in rhythm with each other. I can’t describe a pose without asking you to employ your curiosity about where you’re at on your journey.

What does this present moment feel like? Who are you in it?

So, what does this moment feel like for me?

Sitting here, in my own version of Easy Seated pose, overcoming a bout of illness and unable to teach for a week, has me all the more rooted in what I am thankful for in my teaching life and why I miss it when I can’t do it. It really is you. It always has been and always will be. The moment I lose sight of that, I will stop teaching, because I will know my vocation will have met its completion.

Every time you walk through the studio doors, I pray you know how much you matter, how worthy you are of your time and attention, and how safe you’ve made me feel in my own journey as a human. Thank you for being my reason to hold space as a teacher. Thank you for your bravery and courage in honoring yoga as a practice and letting go of expectation. Practice and all is coming, the teaching goes.

May my words flow meaningfully, and may my presence be felt as the safe space I intend for it to be for you, until my teacher’s voice decides I am done. And may you know, always, that you are the gift to this Green Lotus community.

You. Are. The. Gift.

The rest is just wrapping paper and bows.

Laura is a yoga teacher as well as a freelance writer. Laura received her 200- and 500-hour yoga teacher trainings from Green Lotus Yoga and Healing Center. She teaches several classes a week in a variety of formats at Green Lotus. Her own practice began in 2006 as a way to connect breath to body after dealing with a stress-borne illness.