Here it goes. I eat meat. Gasp (Home Alone style!)
I had to laugh when a student recently approached me cautiously before class and inquired whether or not I consume animal products, as if her entire impression of me would change based on the answer. Apparently, she’d only encountered liberal-minded vegetarian yoga instructors in the past. It’s not like they’re hard to find.
So here’s my hearty serving of pot roast to you, my fellow yoga teachers:
I love money.
I’m a certified yoga teacher and I know I offer great value to my clients. They feel better after class, are happier, chattier, peaceful-ler. Mission accomplished.
You rarely get that when you leave a doctor’s office, yet you willingly pay out the wazoo for those quacks too.
That’s why I charge what I’m worth (yes, I know the practice is priceless)—that means more than free and less than outrageous. For Shiva’s sake, when the mat costs more than the class, something is seriously wrong.
Money and yoga tend to be a paradox to most; throw in business to the mix and you’re approaching mutually exclusive territory.
Let me be honest: it took a lot of energy healing to get my money issues straightened out plus a healthy kick in the pants (lululemon) from Danielle Laporte’s FireStarter Sessions, a year and $15,000 worth of training and support from my mastermind tribe and mentor, and the ever-present continuing education and additional training expenses (and certificates of completion) to make me feel like I was qualified to bow my head in front of a class and even utter the word namaste.
That cost a lot of money, honey.
Plus, I like nice things. So shoot me—with your yogi guns that extend from your fingertips and blow sweet kisses of compassion out to the world. Can I get a witness?
Yoga helps people live better lives. That shit costs money!
Maybe I’m not the most compassionate person alive, but I’m also not homeless, thank you, and I can’t respect you if you think I should be by default because I’m a yoga teacher.
I also hate, from the bottom of my heart (I do have one), worrying about money, frugality in general and starving. I refuse to believe that I can’t live a good life doing what I love. That means I’m going to make money teaching yoga. I’m not going to struggle. I’m not going to grovel. And I’m not going to live in a communal yurt.
I’ll spend money on the things I value and save when and where I can. I’ll put my kids through college like my parents did for me. I’ll travel when and where I want to because it makes me happy.
I’ll do what I want to do because money won’t be an issue.
Yoga got me to this point; I place my trust in my practice to get me where I want to be in the future.
I humbly bow to your priority to live a life with little, but respectfully disagree.
Now stop offering all your classes for FREE.
P.S. – Ask me about my definition of free and/or see Danielle LaPorte’s definition in her bestselling self-help book The FireStarter Sessions. Chapter 13, page 254. Unfortunately, I’m not an affiliate and will be paid no money for this endorsement. I’m just giving it away for free.
Ashley Josephine has been studying yoga for five years and currently lives and teaches in Wichita Falls, TX. A writer, traveler and a whole lot of other things, Ashley believes wholeheartedly in experiences and is passionate about empowering women with yoga and mindfulness based practices. Sign up on ashleyjosephine.com if you’re a woman working through life’s daily stresses. You’ll get worldly wisdom, yoga, meditation and other free resources delivered straight to your inbox.
Editor: Malin Bergman
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