I learned this practice through years of working with challenging clients—my most valuable teachers.
I love a challenge. The more complex the case, the more I want to work on it. And as we often say in class: “The more complex the case, the simpler the work”.
But simple doesn’t mean easy.
Several years ago, when I was working back-to-back with private clients in my cozy yoga therapy studio, I would see, in one single day, someone with Parkinson’s, then breast cancer, fibromyalgia, Hashimoto’s, and finally, a client with a painful herniated disc.
To prepare for days like this, I followed a ritual: a shower, a good breakfast, my own yoga with breathwork and meditation, and a clean studio. I made sure there was tea, water, nourishing food, a pot of soup or stew on the stove—and always chocolate. In my mind, I believed I was ready.
Then one morning, I looked at my schedule and saw that one of my most complex clients was coming. I was tired, and honestly, I didn’t feel like doing my usual preparation. Lying in bed, I wondered: What if I prepared myself mentally?
So I stayed under the duvet, placed my hands on my belly, and breathed slowly. I visualized my client—Esther (not her real name), a woman in her 30s with four children, a history of childhood trauma, recent recovery from breast cancer, and deep burnout. I saw her blue eyes, her rounded shoulders, her sunken chest in protection mode.
I asked myself: What can I do for Esther today? Then I told my body, breath, mind, and heart to be ready for her—not in the way I wanted to help, but in the way she needed me to.
When I opened my eyes, I felt prepared—not for a yoga session, but for Esther.
A human encounter is a meeting between two human beings, sharing a time and space, with one in need of support. I could have done the most advanced pranayama, the perfect yoga flow, or the highest meditation—but if I stayed “up on the roof,” I’d never open the door to my guest downstairs.
That day’s session with Esther was one of our best. She noticed that I was more focused on her, calmer around her anxiety, and I ended the day less tired because the work flowed naturally.
I shared the preparation I had done on that morning with her, and we agreed that she would begin doing it each morning—visualizing each of her four children and asking, What do they need today? She found herself one step ahead, instead of running after the day.
Since then, I’ve continued my yoga and breathwork practice, but I always take a moment to include in my consciousness the person or people I’ll be with that day. Before teaching a module online, I visualize my students, recall their recent needs—Anna was tired yesterday, Vicky was curious—and ask: How can I best serve this group today?
Try this tool in preparation for your classes and your day, and notice the difference it makes.
When we prepare not just for the task, but for the human in front of us, connection becomes effortless—and in that space, the possibility of healing begins.
