The Choice to Shift the Gaze

My husband and I are a Yoga couple. We have been practicing together, side by side, for over 10 years. I would say he’s biased, but he has often told me how much my asana practice has improved and my understanding of Yoga has deepened. When I occasionally adjust his poses, he tells me my instructions are accurate and clear. While I originally had no intention of becoming a Yoga teacher, it seems these encouraging comments seeped into my subconscious.

In 2024, when my favorite Yoga teacher, Fiji McAlpine, announced she would be leading a teacher training program, the message caught my attention. I read the email, pondered the idea while doing chores around the house, and then, twenty minutes later, sat back down at my computer. I wrote to Fiji and committed myself to the course.

I did not expect the learning to be quite so daunting. After decades of practice, you think you know plenty! Aside from Yoga philosophy, asanas, breathwork, and subtle body energy, I also had to learn about anatomy, the nervous system, class sequencing, and the language of teaching. It was a massive pool of knowledge. While the learning was challenging, the process made me more curious and respectful of the role of a teacher. Even so, by the time I finished the course and passed the exam in 2025, I still didn’t truly see myself teaching.

I sat on my “Yoga teacher fence” for another half a year until this past Christmas, when my husband gave me a special gift: a website domain. He then enlisted professional help to build the site and kicked the project into gear. He nudged me completely over the fence.

If I tell the story this way, it might seem like I was pushed into this position without a choice. But "choice" is exactly what I want to talk about.

I chose to practice Yoga many years ago.

I chose to introduce Yoga to my husband—and I am immensely thankful he accepted the invitation. Yoga has become such an important part of our lives and an incredible bond in our relationship.

I chose to start teacher training. While my goal wasn't entirely clear, my intention was: I wanted to learn about Yoga, deeper and wider, to the extent that I could be a teacher.

Later, I chose not to do anything tangible with my certificate because I chose to avoid the work—the work of seeking options, building a platform, and turning dwelling ideas into actual content.

I chose to say “I don’t want to teach” because it sounded like an active, empowered choice. If I am honest, I would have to say it out loud: “There are so many good teachers out there, so many websites, and millions of Yoga accounts on Instagram. No one will pay attention to me. The work will be futile. It will be embarrassing and will probably hurt my ego.”

I wasn't brave enough to make a different choice.

We often say, “I have no choice.” What we really mean is, “I do not see a choice that I like right now.” The so-called “obvious choice” is usually the one that lies within our comfort zone, providing a sense of security. But other choices are always there. They aren't hidden or even necessarily more difficult; they are simply outside our peripheral vision. There is always the choice to simply shift your gaze.

So here I am, with this website. It is just another Yoga site on the internet. But for me, it has already been a journey—a lesson in courage and love, and the beginning of opening up.

The journey continues.