Memories and Magic

Last weekend I taught alongside the amazing musician Girish as he sang and played live music during practice, and honestly, it felt otherworldly. After class I told someone it was one of my top three favorite teaching experiences ever, and they immediately asked, “Well… what are the other two?” I’ve been thinking about that question all week. The truth is, I feel incredibly lucky because there are so many moments that rise to the surface. I’ve taught classes before weddings and milestone birthdays, surrounded by people celebrating huge chapters of their lives and choosing yoga as part of the experience. I’ve also held space for students moving through heartbreak, grief, divorce, job loss, and the death of loved ones. While I would never wish suffering on anyone, it has always felt like a deep honor to witness people allowing yoga to become a container for healing, softness, and connection when they need it most.

And then there are the moments that feel almost impossible to explain, the ones where nature, timing, sound, and presence all align in a way that makes the whole room feel suspended in magic. I remember teaching in Italy on an outdoor platform surrounded by rolling hills as we slowly moved through practice. At one point, an entire herd of sheep wandered past us, each wearing tiny bells. The golden evening light, the slow meandering pace of the herd, the sound of the bells echoing softly through the landscape, it all felt cinematic. In Tanzania we woke before sunrise to practice in complete darkness, listening to the rustling of animals somewhere out in the distance. Slowly, breath by breath, movement by movement, the sky began to soften and the sun rose across the African landscape. I took a time lapse of that practice and even our guides wanted a copy of it was so cool. Teaching on the rooftop of our riad in the middle of Marrakech, Morocco. As we moved through repeated Sun Salutation A’s, the call to prayer echoed through the city over old speakers, filling the air with this hauntingly beautiful sound that seemed to vibrate through the rooftops. These are the moments I carry with me. The ones that remind me yoga is never just movement. It is presence, community, nature, music, grief, joy, wonder, and sometimes, pure magic.