When Yoga Calls, But Not How You Expect
An Open Letter About Disillusionment, Divine Redirection, and Virtual Sanctuary
"This isn't inspiration porn. It's my truth—messy, sacred, and still unfolding."
A Deep Sigh
I let out a deep sigh as I begin to write this because I know the content of this post will inevitably touch some nerves. I’m writing it because I believe my throat chakra is best served when I release what needs to be said. Before putting these words down, I lit incense and a candle, refreshed the glass of water on my alter, and centered myself with the purest intention.
Length warning: This may get long.
Why I Became a Certified Yoga Instructor (But Never Planned to Teach)
My intention in pursuing a 200-hour Yoga Teacher Training (YTT) certification was never to become a yoga teacher. It was far more selfish than that.
I had two objectives when I decided to enroll:
1. To practice safely on my own. I travel often—new countries, cities, villages—and finding a yoga studio can be discouraging from the start. I wanted the knowledge to practice independently without injuring myself (especially since I tend to be a little clumsy).
2. To have a spiritual experience. For some reason, I imagined YTT would mirror the profound, transformative energy I’d experienced in ashrams abroad. Instead, it was toxic—AF—for me.
Teaching yoga to others was the last thing on my mind. Here’s why: Most Americans and Westerners don’t truly appreciate yoga’s roots. They treat it as an aesthetic or an alternative to gymnastics. (Let’s be real here, they want to tell you how the classes should operate to fit their fitness needs and codes of formality-that’s not yoga.) I’ve studied in ashrams with gurus, taken private classes with world-renowned yogis—experiences I’ve rarely shared because they were deeply personal, spiritual, and not meant to be bragging points.
For me, yoga is a dance of breath and movement. It’s the inner challenge of observing the mind without judgment. It’s breathwork, intention, and cultivating kindness—toward ourselves and others. It’s about facing the noise in our thoughts and learning to witness it as a detached observer.
The Disillusionment of Western Yoga
My first YTT was deeply disappointing. It showed me how yoga’s essence has been reduced to handstands and Instagrammable poses—just another marketing tool for athleisure brands.
I’ve practiced around the world for years, and I’ve heard entitled students complain, treating yoga as just another workout to check off their list. I wanted no part of that.
Then, in Tulum, Mexico, I watched an untrained instructor lead a class from a balcony. I was terrified—knowing how dangerous improper alignment can be—and part of me wanted to "save" the students. But in a moment of vulnerability, I also admired her courage to teach without formal training. I had little confidence after completing my training and being registered.
The next day, she fell ill, and I was asked to step in.
The Unexpected Calling
The feedback was overwhelming. My classes started with two students, then three, then two again. Within a week, both of my daily sessions were often over capacity—six days a week. Students practiced on couches; others observed from chairs, just soaking in the energy. There were tears, breakthroughs, and beginners committing to their own yoga journeys. A year later, some still reach out to share how those classes changed them.
And yet… I was still okay with not becoming a full-time instructor.
Before finishing my 200-hour YTT, I knew I wanted to complete a 300-hour training in Rishikesh, India—where my teachers had grown up in ashrams. Again, my motivation was personal: learning, experiencing Rishikesh, and deepening my practice. Meanwhile, my classmates dreamed of opening studios or securing teaching gigs back home.
The False Start
After India, my plan was simple: finish writing my book in DaNang, Vietnam (though I ended up in Bali), complete my Data Analytics bootcamp, then move into Business Intelligence and Cybersecurity bootcamps. With my software sales experience, I knew that I had a clear path to a six-figure paycheck working remotely.
Then, friends reached out after a post about my investments and rent here in Bali. They asked me to start private yoga classes for them in the new year. Hesitant, I offered free sessions first—giving myself some space to limit my exposure to teaching. When they insisted on paying, I committed: drafting agreements, buying scheduling software, and designing specialized courses not typically taught in YTT—like chair yoga for seniors and amputees, and prenatal yoga.
I revisited my training (because, let’s be real, after 20-28 days of intensive study, everything’s a blur). I analyzed body types, anatomy, and restrictions to tailor classes for the students I would have by stalking their photos.
But January came… and nothing. February: one person signed up, took a class, and then ghosted. I was furious with myself. I’d invested time and money into a venture that now seemed like a fools errand.
The Pivot
Depressed, I meditated, pulled tarot cards, and wrestled with regret. I’d put my career goals on hold because I believed yoga had "called" me.
Then, my guides whispered: Offer virtual meditation. People will need it.
I ignored them—Nobody asked for this!—but by day three, the message was clear: Do it anyway.
So I did.
And in creating this space, I rediscovered the heart of yoga: stillness, observation, presence. The part of yoga that’s the essence for me.
Why This Matters Now
The world is changing—for many, it’s crumbling. Governments falter, racism rages, children go missing or are killed. Suicide rates climb; jobs vanish. It’s a heavy time.
If I can offer even an hour of peace—a sanctuary from the noise—then this journey was worth it.
No Point, Just Release
There’s no grand lesson here. I wrote this because part of me needed to—because disappointment, heartbreak, and healing demanded expression.
Now you know my why.
And yes… I finally cried.
With love and respect,
Shane