An Open Letter to My Saturday Students: On Showing Up, Falling Short, and Finding True Embodiment

To the beautiful students who shared their Saturday practice with me a couple of weeks ago: I am sorry.

I am writing this open letter because I need to apologize for not truly showing up for you. I was there in the room, physically moving through the space, but my spirit was miles away. I wasn't present, and in a practice that asks everything of our presence, my absence was deeply felt.

This is my third summer teaching yoga. I have loved every moment of growing as a teaching professional, of holding space, and of connecting with all of you. Because of the grace this practice teaches us, I am working on forgiving myself for the shortcuts I took that day. I grabbed an old lesson plan—a first for me. I didn't take the time to align the music with the sequence. Worst of all, I jumped right into our physical asanas before ever taking a moment to center.

The truth is, I wasn't centered, and because of that, I robbed you of the opportunity to center yourselves, too.

The Silence of Disconnection

Normally, the end of our time together is filled with connection. I usually receive sweet love notes in the online chat, or you stop me on your way out the door to share how the class impacted you. Sometimes, you’ve even clapped.

That Saturday, there was none of that. And you were absolutely right to withhold it.

Instead of praise, you offered me honesty. You were brave enough to tell me after class exactly where I had failed you:

• The music was too loud, overpowering the space rather than supporting it.

• The Shavasana was completely rushed, cutting short the most vital, restorative part of our practice.

• I failed to offer regressions and modifications, leaving out the accessible possibilities that make yoga a practice for every body.

I cringe when I think about the disjointed, disconnected experience you had on your mats that day. You came seeking a sanctuary, and I delivered a routine.

The Irony of Embodiment

When I was studying for my 500-level certification, my mentors constantly ingrained a single, crucial concept into my mind: Teachers need to embody yoga.

At the time, I nodded along. I thought I knew exactly what they meant. But the great irony of my journey is that I had to become completely disembodied—to completely detach from my purpose, my breath, and my students—to truly understand what embodiment actually looks and feels like.

I know it now. I know it in my bones.

Embodiment isn't just knowing the alignment of a posture or curating a great playlist; it is the energetic exchange between teacher and student. It is breathing with the room, holding the space with intentionality, and leaving your ego at the door so you can serve the people in front of you.

My Deepest Gratitude

As much as I regret the experience you had that day, I am immensely, profoundly grateful for the lesson it gave me.

It was only through that harsh reflection that I woke up. It was only through your honest feedback that I now embody my classes the way I do today. I am a remarkably better, more grounded, and more intentional teacher for having gone through that experience.

I am just so incredibly sorry that you had to be the ones to help me arrive at it. Thank you for your honesty, your grace, and for being my greatest teachers.

With deep respect and a renewed presence,

Heidi