Published January 9, 2026 05:55AM
I recently opened a yoga studio in the town of Baker City, where the population is just over 10,000.
Naturally, the questions came: Was this the smartest business endeavor? Did I know what I was signing up for? Was I prepared to carry the overhead costs for something that might not survive in a single-grocery-store ranching community? Our town is so small that even a birthing center and ambulance service were deemed unnecessary—probably why why some people looked at me with mild concern when I told them I’d be opening a studio here.
Still, I took the leap. While I had a decent idea of the many hats I’d wear, I wasn’t prepared for how incredibly vulnerable this work would feel, or just how much I would learn, lessons that are applicable to studio owners in towns and cities of any size.
Some days I leave class buzzing with gratitude; other days I stare at an empty room wondering if I missed something. The process hasn’t been glamorous or predictable, but what it has been is wildly transformative—both personally and professionally.
So far, I’ve leaned that meaningful work rarely arrives fully formed. I have had to make sacrifices and believe in my vision even when others doubt it. Every overflowing class, quiet week, and unexpected challenge has stretched me in ways I didn’t anticipate, revealing that growth requires resilience more than it does perfection.
If the doors of my studio stay open, it will never be because of a flawless system, but because I kept listening, learning, and choosing my small but tight community over certainty. And to me, that feels like success.
6 Things I’ve Learned From Opening My Yoga Studio
My yoga studio has become one of the clearest teachers I’ve ever had. Here are the lessons that help me stay grounded—and remind me how important it is to keep showing up.
1. Not every class, event, or idea will be a success. Don’t let that stop you from taking risks.
Opening a yoga studio has taught me that failure isn’t proof you’re doing something wrong. It’s simply feedback. And listening to it can guide you closer to what your community truly needs.
Because our town is so small, there are a lot of good ideas that haven’t ever been tested—ideas like day-long retreats, early morning meditation classes, and midday lunch offerings. As a studio owner, I’ve had to learn to take risks and face the unknown bravely. This is required of any good idea that’s still finding its footing: the courage to try, learn, and try again.
2. It’s okay if you cannot give every role 100% of your effort all the time.
You will take on many roles. Some you expected, some you never considered. Owning a studio means being a teacher one minute and a janitor, bookkeeper, or social-media manager the next. I often remind myself that balance isn’t about doing everything, but about choosing what is a priority, doing what you can, and leaving room for your own self-care.
Letting go of unchecked boxes not only saves you stress, but reminds your students that, just like them, you are doing your best and letting the practice help you accept your humanness.
3. One day you’ll feel you have all the answers; the next, you’ll feel like a total failure.
Studio ownership is humbling, and there are so many ups and downs. Some classes are packed full and make you feel unstoppable. Others have only one or two students show up.
I’ve found it’s important to keep trying and exploring new things without letting minor setbacks take over. Schedules change constantly, and each week brings a unique set of needs. Try not to take it personally. Know that these changes are normal, and that low-attendance, or even no attendance at all, isn’t a reflection of your worth as a teacher or the value of your studio.
4. Tell yourself you’re doing a good job. Because some days, no one else will.
In a profession built on supporting others, it’s essential to become your own source of encouragement—even when you’re struggling to believe in your abilities. This role can feel isolating, especially when you’re running the only studio in town, and self-doubt and imposter syndrome will take over if you aren’t careful. I’ve had to learn to be a better friend to myself, remembering that keeping the doors open—especially in a rural community—is by itself an act of devotion.
You can want to do better while still appreciating how far you’ve come.
5. Dut don’t lose yourself trying to please everyone.
Your students have good ideas and community feedback is invaluable, but chasing everyone’s preferences will wear you out and dilute your vision. It’s important to trust your instincts and be confident in your decision-making. The more you trust yourself, the more confidence you will gain in your new role.
6. Honesty is the best thing you can give your students and fellow teachers.
Transparency creates trust. I’ve chosen to set that tone from the beginning about policies, mistakes, and personal limitations, such as living with a chronic illness.
As yoga teachers, we encourage others to show up as they are, often forgetting that we, too, are granted the same permission. We aren’t expected to be perfect. Some days I can’t demo as much because of the pain I’m in. There have been times I’ve had to cancel class because of family circumstances that required my attention.
Even when it’s hard, I’ve been sure to communicate these things to my students and fellow teachers, because I believe there can and should be a balance of showing up both professionally and honestly—in yoga and in any career.
