07/14/2026
Deciding to let go of my yoga space was one of the hardest choices I’ve made. A couple of weeks ago, I walked in to teach what I knew would be my last chair yoga class there, and the weight of everything hit me at once. Worry for my mom and her health. Uncertainty about the future. The fear that maybe I’ve been on the wrong path. That wild urge to sell everything and disappear. And underneath it all, the quiet, painful question of whether I’m failing.
I sat in the empty room and cried. Most of the decorations were already taken down, boxes stacked and ready to go, and every sound echoed in a way that made the space feel both hollow and sacred. I tried to find the deeper meaning in all of it—the lesson, the message, the “why”—and came up empty. I’m still searching. I know it’s there, and I trust it will reveal itself when the time is right.
Everything changes. Nothing and no one is permanent. I’m reminding myself that even painful change shapes us, stretches us, and grows us into who we’re meant to become. And for now, it’s ok that I don’t have the answers.
But when I taught that final class, something in me lifted. My heart felt lighter. I remembered how deeply I love teaching—how much joy there is in movement, breath, and connection. And in that moment, it became clear: the space isn’t what matters most. The people are.
Join us for one of the weekly donation based classes at First Baptist Church of Marion for connection, community, and movement.
Come feel the love!
