The two Sanskrit words underneath every cue you give
You’ve said it a thousand times: “Find the balance between effort and ease.” It might be the most-cued phrase in modern yoga after “inhale, lift your arms, look up” and “take a deep breath.” But Patanjali named the framework underneath it twenty-five hundred years ago, and once you can see it clearly, it changes how you cue, how you plan, and how you build a teaching career that lasts.
The sutra is sthira sukham asanam (Yoga Sutra 2.46): the posture should be steady and comfortable. Two words, one ratio, and a practice you’ll keep recalibrating for the rest of your teaching life.
What sthira and sukha actually mean
Sthira means steady, firm, stable, resolute. It’s a cognate of strong and stiff. Sthira is the engagement that keeps you in the pose: muscular effort, focused attention, the commitment to stay.
Sukha means comfortable, easeful, spacious—and the root carries a beautiful image. Su means good. Kha means the space in the center of a wheel where the axle sits. Sukha is literally “good axle space.” A smooth, well-fitted, friction-free ride.
So sthira sukham asanam says more than “be steady and comfortable.” Engage fully, and let the engagement be smooth. Hold the structure, and let it breathe. Commit without gripping.
Where the ratio shows up in your teaching
The sutra travels because it applies to everything. For yoga teachers, it shows up in three places.
In the body, your cues. Every physical cue is a sthira–sukha calibration. “Engage your core” is sthira. “Soften your jaw” is sukha. “Root down through your feet” is sthira. “Let your breath be easy” is sukha. When a student is shaking in chair pose and you say, “Can you find one thing to soften,” you’re adjusting the ratio—sukha inside the sthira, not collapse.
In the classroom, your planning. A class that’s all sthira—all effort, no rest, no counter-poses—is exhausting. A class that’s all sukha—all restorative, no progression, no challenge—is pleasant but doesn’t change anyone. The classes that build a waitlist hold both. Structure with space. Challenge with rest. Progression with breath.
In the career, your whole teaching life. All sthira looks like saying yes to every sub request, hustling for workshops, grinding toward “making it”—and wondering why you don’t enjoy teaching anymore. All sukha looks like waiting for opportunities, teaching the same material year after year, and wondering why your classes aren’t growing. Sustainable careers hold both.
The two defaults I see most often
Newer teachers tend toward one side.
The over-planner spends three hours on a single class, rehearses every transition, agonizes over whether half moon comes before or after triangle. Every second is accounted for. That’s grip.
The under-planner walks in with a vague theme, calls it “intuitive teaching,” and hopes for the best. Some days it works beautifully. Other days the students can feel the scramble. That’s drift.
The craft lives in the middle: a clear, repeatable structure you trust enough to let breathe. Enough preparation to feel grounded, enough flexibility to respond to the room.
The One-Degree Practice
Pick one area of your life this week—just one—and notice where you’re all sthira or all sukha. Then find one degree of movement toward the middle.
One degree. That’s it.
- Over-planning your classes? Plan the arc and the four quarters, and leave the transitions to the moment. One degree toward sukha.
- Under-planning? Write down five poses before class. Decide on a clear beginning and a clear end. One degree toward sthira.
- Career all hustle? Drop one class this month. One degree toward sukha.
- Career all coast? Sign up for one workshop, one mentorship, one thing that puts you in the growth zone. One degree toward sthira.
One degree compounds. One degree this week leads to another one degree next month, and over time you find yourself in a fundamentally different place.
Cues you can use this week
Try these in class:
- In warrior II, to a gripping student: “You have all the effort you need. Now find one thing to soften.”
- In a restorative pose, to a checked-out student: “Even in rest, can you stay present? Not applying major effort—staying with awareness here.”
- Naming the framework: “In every pose, we’re looking for two things—enough effort to hold the shape, and enough ease to breathe inside it. The ratio changes. Your job is to keep finding it.”
For a class theme, open with the question, “Where are you gripping, and where are you collapsing?” Cue toward it throughout. Close with, “This is the practice. Not perfection. Recalibration. On the mat and off it.”
Where this comes from
This episode (and this blog post) draws on Chapter 32 of Yoga Off the Mat, my new book with Alexandra DeSiato. It’s a book about taking what yoga does to your attention on the mat and letting it shape the rest of your life—work, relationships, parenting, hard conversations, the inside of your own head on a Sunday afternoon. Pre-order Yoga Off the Mat here.
If class planning is where your ratio feels off
That’s exactly the work of Mastering the Art of Yoga Sequencing. It’s a six-month mentorship—a small group of yoga teachers moving through the curriculum together—with my personal review on your lesson plans, your sequencing questions, and whatever else comes up in your teaching life. Six months is enough time for it to become how you plan, instead of something you tried once.
Enrollment for the July–December cohort opens Monday, June 22. The waitlist is open right now, and waitlist members hear from me first.
One more invitation
If you want to keep refining your craft alongside other teachers who care about this work—teachers who hold themselves to high professional standards while giving themselves room to grow—come hang out in the Zone, my free community. It’s where these conversations keep going between episodes.
Remember the axle. A perfectly smooth ride was never the goal. The goal is to notice when the wheel is grinding and make one small adjustment. One degree toward the middle. That’s the practice, and it’s enough.
