There’s a version of me that used to believe presence meant getting it right. That teaching would only feel true once I’d earned it — years of certifications, a flawless sequence, nothing left to learn.
This summer taught me otherwise.
Teaching at the festival
When I taught at the yoga wellness festival in Harlem, NY, this summer, I expected it to feel like a big deal. New teacher, bigger stage, more eyes. But when I actually got there, what I felt instead was ease. Grounded, steady, at home.
I think that’s because I’m not really new to this — not underneath. I’m a new teacher, but I’m an old student. Twenty-five years of practice doesn’t disappear just because the role in front of the room changes. What I understood, standing there, is that teaching isn’t a performance of having arrived somewhere. It’s an extension of the same grounding yoga has always given me. I’m not creating calm from nothing — I’m sharing something I already carry.
What the Rok taught me about my own practice
The other thing this summer gave me was more personal, and it surprised me.
Boat pose has never been my best posture. Not for lack of trying — I’ve been practicing for over twenty-five years, plenty of that at an advanced level. But boat, for me, always meant bent knees. Nothing wrong with that variation; I’ve taught it that way to plenty of students without a second thought. Still, I quietly aspired to the straight-legged version and never quite got there.
Teaching with the Rok this summer changed that. Using it in my own practice opened a door I didn’t expect — I found my way into a full straight-leg boat, something twenty-five years of practice hadn’t handed me on its own.
It made me think differently about the Rok entirely. I already knew it made certain poses more accessible — that’s part of why I teach with it. But this was different. This wasn’t about accessibility for someone earlier in their practice. This was an advanced pose, held by an advanced practitioner, and the Rok still had something to offer me. It didn’t just make room for where a student is starting from. It made room for where I still had further to go.
What I’m carrying into fall
I think that’s the real lesson of this summer — grounding isn’t something you finish earning. It meets you at the festival, on your first time teaching. And it meets you twenty-five years in, in a pose you thought you already knew everything about.
Come as you are. Leave grounded, open, and restored. This summer, I learned that applies to the teacher too.
If you’d like to practice with the Rok and see what it might open up for you, join me for a class.
