Katy Scherer Yoga

CONFESSIONS OF A STUDIO OWNER

I own a wellness business and sometimes I am absolutely fu***ng exhausted.

There. I said it.

I spend a ridiculous amount of my working life telling people to listen to their bodies, rest when they need to, breathe, create space and stop glorifying being busy.

Meanwhile, I can be teaching, answering emails, solving staff problems, planning trainings, checking numbers, making content, dealing with the broken toilet and thinking about next year — all before I’ve actually noticed that I’m tired.

The irony is not lost on me.

And I think there’s another slightly uncomfortable conversation here.

Sometimes the thing exhausting us isn’t that we need better boundaries.

It’s that we’ve built lives we actually really fu***ng care about.

I love my studios. I love teaching. I love creating things. I have ideas constantly. I want to say yes. I want to make things happen.

And that makes it dangerously easy to overstretch yourself.

Because burnout doesn’t always come from doing things you hate.

Sometimes it comes from being completely incapable of putting down the things you love.

I’m still learning that having the capacity to do something doesn’t automatically mean I should.

And apparently owning a yoga studio does not make you magically good at yoga philosophy.

Confession over.

Eleven years ago, I went to India for the first time.

I landed in Goa, at Purple Valley, with absolutely no idea just how much that trip would shape the years that followed.

India became somewhere I returned to again and again. A place where I spent months practising, learning, questioning, being challenged, and falling more deeply into a practice that would eventually become such a huge part of my life and work.

At the end of this year, I’m going back.

And there’s something quite emotional about the fact that I’m returning to the place where it all began.

Purple Valley was my first experience of India 11 years ago. I arrived there as a student, curious and probably a little overwhelmed by it all. This November, I return as a teacher, sharing the practice and this place with others.

It feels less like going somewhere new and much more like a homecoming.

So much has changed in those eleven years. I’ve changed. My relationship with yoga has changed. My understanding of practice, teaching, tradition and what actually matters has changed.

But India still holds a very particular place in my heart.

From 7–21 November, I’ll be teaching the Ashtanga Yoga Chikitsa Immersion at Purple Valley Goa alongside Joseph Armstrong and Edgar Navarro.

Two weeks of Mysore practice, pranayama, chanting, philosophy, workshops, movement and time to properly immerse yourself in the practice — whether Ashtanga has been part of your life for years or you’re still relatively new to it.

It feels incredibly special to be able to invite people to join me somewhere that has meant so much to my own journey.

Eleven years later, back where it started. 🤍

I can usually tell who won’t be here in six months.

It’s often the most motivated person in the room.

The one who arrives with a perfect plan.
Big goals.
A brand new outfit.
And enough enthusiasm to power a small village.

Because motivation is exciting.

It makes us feel like we’ve already changed.

But real change is much less glamorous.

It’s showing up when nobody is watching.

It’s doing the boring stuff.

It’s coming to class when you’re not feeling inspired.

The students who are still here years later are rarely the most motivated.

They’re the most consistent.

And consistency is a lot less sexy than motivation.

Which is probably why nobody is trying to sell it to you on Instagram.

Signed,

A studio owner who has seen motivation come and go thousands of times.