A Love Letter to Yoga Nyla

The first time I came to the studio, I showed up 30 minutes late. I’d confused it with the downtown location and missed class entirely. I remember sitting in my car after that — sobbing. Not a tear or two. Full-body, can’t-catch-your-breath sobs.

Something deep cracked open. After years of feeling disconnected from yoga and from community, my body knew before my mind did: I had found home. I came back the next day. Took class. And I’ve been coming ever since. This space — the heat, the floors, the walls that hold us — is sacred to me.

I’m someone who lives in my head, light and airy, pulled in a hundred directions. They call the wind Mariah, and that’s always felt true. I tend to drift. Disappear with a shift in the breeze. But this studio grounds me. It calls me back to my body, again and again.

Since that first class, my whole life has moved through these walls.

In 2019, I practiced on my wedding day.
In 2020, I practiced on Zoom.
In 2021, I stayed connected here when nearly every other relationship in my life fell apart.
In 2022, I practiced through the grief of our stillborn son.
And in 2023 I practiced as long as I could while carrying our rainbow baby — the one this community has loved so openly, generously, sweetly.

This space and my life are inextricably linked.

You may know me as the studio manager — the one behind the schedule, the emails, the events. But underneath all of that is this: I love this place with my whole heart. It’s held me through everything. And everything I do here — every class I promote, every caption I write, every time I open my mouth to teach — is for you.

I want you to feel what I felt that first day.

Welcome. Wonder. Belonging.

And maybe, if the timing’s right, something you didn’t even know you needed.

Thanks for being part of it. Whether we’ve shared a sweaty corner of the room or just a wave in passing — I’m really glad you’re here.

In deep gratitude,

Mariah June