Navigating the unexpected twists of studentship, growth, and the relentless pursuit of purpose.
The other morning, I found myself reflecting on the journey of studentship and lineage during a conversation with my longtime teacher, mentor and friend, Jason Lobo. We reminisced about the cornerstone of growth: always being a student. This mindset keeps us humble, rooted, and open to what’s next.
Jason brought up something profound, a teaching from Douglas Brooks that has shaped my understanding of adhikara. He reminded me that adhikara doesn’t simply mean studentship—it means qualification.
“Are you able to do the next thing?” Jason asked.
It’s not just about showing up, though that’s part of it. It’s about readiness, perseverance, and action. The Sanskrit roots of the word—adi, meaning “original,” and kara, meaning “action”—remind us that our journey requires action born from deep commitment.
Douglas once asked his teacher, "Why me?" The reply was simple but powerful: "You’re the only one that stuck around."
That teaching hit me hard. I reflected on how sticking around—showing up again and again—has been the thread of my journey, even when I doubted my own capacity.
From Doubt to Determination
When I was first encouraged to open a yoga studio, my internal dialogue was full of doubt: How would you ever be able to do this? I knew nothing about running a business, managing people, or handling the endless logistics. Yet, the student in me said, Why not?
Little did I know, opening a studio wasn’t just about teaching yoga. It was about stepping into a whirlwind of uncomfortable growth, heartache, and grit. I was lost before I even started, floundering in unfamiliar waters. The reality hit hard: the pedestal others placed me on came with immense pressure not to fail. My insecure self sometimes basked in the admiration, but it also carried a crushing weight—because failure is inevitable. And fail I did, often.
In those early days, the studio was a raw, unpolished warehouse—a place full of sweat, community, and grit. Jason would call it “bootstrapping at its finest.” My dear friend and eventual business partner Amy would laugh, asking, What does bootstrapping even mean? Midwestern slang aside, it captured the relentless, daily grind of building something from nothing.
The name Hidden Dragon wasn’t just a logo; it was a mantra. The dragon had been part of my meditation work in therapy sessions with my mentor, Gary Cone. It symbolized rising above adversity, perseverance, and transformation. “Take flight,” Gary would say, and I did. Even on the hardest days, I showed up.
The Magic of the Sticky Mat
Over the years, the studio became a place where I cultivated something lasting and meaningful: a diverse community, rich teacher-student connections, and deep personal growth. I created and refined 200- and 300-hour teacher training manuals, led countless retreats—both domestic and international—and facilitated more teacher trainings than I can count.
Through it all, the real work, the deep growth, always happened on the mat. That magic rectangle—the sticky mat—has been the foundation for everything. It’s where the transformations begin, where the lessons take root, and where the heart of the practice resides.
Lessons in Loss and Resilience
Owning the studio taught me more about life than I ever expected. It also tested me beyond measure. Health challenges led to surgeries. Relocating the studio strained me financially and emotionally. COVID nearly broke us. After years of fighting to build something meaningful, I had to step away from what felt like my life’s purpose.
As women business owners, we often feel the pressure to be fierce and unwavering, no matter what’s happening behind closed doors. The world expects us to show up as if we have it all together, even when we’re falling apart inside. In reality, facing many trials, poor judgments in character that cost me my studio, miscarriage, failed IVF, broken partnerships, and so much more. And still, I showed up. Because the work, the community, and the calling were too important to abandon—even when I felt like I was barely holding it together.
During COVID, a longtime student and friend stepped in as a financial backer, giving me the space to focus on teaching and nurturing our community. It was an incredible gesture that allowed the studio to survive a tumultuous time.
Life has its own rhythm, and no matter how much we try to control it, sometimes the current carries us in unexpected directions. When this friend made some poor choices, the studio’s path shifted. Instead of returning it to me, he passed it to my manager. I tried to adapt, to continue collaborating under the new structure, but the culture of the studio shifted, the respect between teacher and student evaporated, and it became clear that the space I had poured my heart and soul into was no longer mine. Dragon didn’t close, but it certainly wasn’t mine anymore.
It’s a tough pill to swallow when someone makes a decision about your life’s work that wasn’t theirs to make. But here we are. Life doesn’t always follow the script we expect, it never really does, honestly. And sometimes, people make decisions that remind you of just how important it is to never let go of your own path.
This loss was deeply painful, like the shedding of an old skin, but I trust that the universe has bigger plans for me. Like the rhythm of a yoga practice, sometimes we find ourselves in difficult poses, holding our breath and unsure of what comes next. But, in the tradition of studentship, it’s not about knowing the outcome—it's about taking the next action and trusting the process. With each step, we return to the mat, grounded in the present, ready to learn and grow from what comes next.
Return to the mat, where every challenge becomes an opportunity to grow.
A New Chapter
As I reflect on the arc of my journey, the lessons of adhikara remain at the heart of it all: showing up, learning, and growing through action. The path is not always smooth, and it requires us to embrace the process of evolution—both on the mat and off. In moments of challenge, we take the next step, trusting that each action, no matter how small, is part of a greater unfolding.
The teachers and collaborators who have shaped my journey continue to be a source of deep inspiration. Darren Rhodes, Jason Lobo, Douglas Brooks, George Purvis—your mentorship has been a gift, and your wisdom has woven through my life like a thread that keeps me grounded. The friendships and partnerships emerging in this season of my life remind me that every loss creates space for something new.
I will always continue to do the work—to spread the teachings of my teachers and their teachers, to build women up and stand side by side in the fight for justice, to make yoga accessible for everyone, and to cultivate a community where we rise together. For, as in yoga, it is not about doing it all alone—it’s about building something stronger than ourselves, connected through love, respect, and shared purpose.
To my students, friends, and fellow seekers: Keep showing up. Stay curious. Rise above. The path is not easy, but it is worth every stumble and every triumph. And as we continue, we must remember: we are not alone. We stand on the shoulders of giants, whose perseverance and wisdom guide our steps as we carve our own paths forward.
When in doubt, always return to the mat. It is here, in the simplicity of the practice, that we reconnect to the heart of what matters most.
Much love, grace, and beauty along your journey.
Desirae
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