Practice is a Lifeline, not a Luxury

There is a quiet or not so quiet weight most of us are carrying right now.

It’s not something we want to talk about except in blurts and fits of frustration but rarely in the world of “wellness” and “yoga.” It’s something very few of us can ignore or escape and it shows up in the small, daily moments—at the grocery store, in the pause before the purchase in the subtle recalibration of what is possible and what must wait. The wars, the uncertainty, and the cost of living has risen in ways that are not abstract. It's all felt in the body and in the nervous system.

And in times like these it’s almost a need for more refined discernment and patience that the world at large is not offering. The world seems to be offering: high highs, low lows, faster, impatience, quick dopamine, bigger and a clutter of too many options vying for our outrage and our resources of attention, time and money.

The practices that nourish us most—movement, stillness, reflection, community—can begin to feel like luxuries instead of lifelines.

I’ve been sitting with this.

Because yoga, as I have lived and taught it over these decades, has never been about luxury. It has always been about relationship. Relationship to breath. To our true nature. To reconnect with the quiet intelligence within us that knows how to steady, even when the ground feels unsteady.

And yet, we are living within systems that ask for exchange. Money is part of how we sustain our lives, our families, and the structures that allow these teachings to be shared at all. There is no clean separation there.

So the question for me and the team becomes: how do we remain in integrity and accessibility inside of this?

For me, the answer has been to keep returning to the intention underneath the offering.

How can this remain accessible? How can this continue to reach those who need it—not just those who can easily afford it? How can we honor both sustainability and generosity at the same time?

Over the years, we have built our offerings with this in mind.
We quietly give away about 50% of our online programs in scholarships. We offer sliding scale pricing whenever possible. We work one-on-one when someone reaches out in need.

We believe this practice is for everyone and yet must also live within the reality of rising costs.

I want to acknowledge something honestly: It takes effort to keep this balance alive, to continue offering at a high level, to support our team and to create spaces that feel thoughtful, grounded, and nourishing.

So if you are someone who is able to contribute fully, know that you are not just supporting your own practice—you are helping to make space for someone else to be there too.

And if you are someone who is feeling the strain right now, please know this:
You are not outside of this community.

You do not need to step away from practice because of finances.

Reach out. Explore the sliding scale. Accept a scholarship if that is what allows you to stay connected. There is no shame in that. This is part of how we care for one another.

The deeper teaching of yoga has always asked us to look at interdependence. To recognize that we are not practicing alone, even when we are on our mat in a quiet room.

We are practicing within a field of shared humanity. And right now, that field is asking for a little more tenderness, creativity and honesty about what we need and what we can offer.

I am committed to continuing to walk that line with as much clarity and care as I can.

To keep offering spaces for practice that are rooted in depth, sincerity, and connection—while doing what I can to ensure they remain open and accessible.

Thank you for being part of this living, evolving community.

om

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