Yoga Retreat to reality: Reflections, Integration and the Real Work

For the month of February, I had the incredible opportunity of practicing under the guidance of Laruga Glaser in Purple Valley, Goa. With nearly 30 years of practice under her belt, Laruga is one of the few teachers to be certified in the Ashtanga lineage of the late K Pattabhi Jois and later his grandson, Sharath Jois. It's been an absolute privilege and honor to be her student. Purple Valley in Goa is a space that has become a sanctuary for so many of us on the Ashtanga path. The experience was nothing short of magical.

The theme of the yoga retreat was extraction—the understanding that what we seek is not outside of us, but within. The nectar of practice, the depth of experience, the clarity we long for—it can’t be given, only uncovered. A teacher can guide, but the work is ours to do. And in Ashtanga, that work is not easy by design. It is meant to expose blind spots, to reveal our potential, to teach us resilience by doing the hard things first. The real sweetness lies in turning our weaknesses into strengths. There are no shortcuts, only practice.

"The rewards of choosing to do something challenging are exponential." - Laruga Glaser

The mornings unfolded in silence before the room filled up with the Opening Prayer and we began Mysore Style practice. Once a week we had Led Primary. My world narrowed to breath, movement, the occasional murmur of the jungle waking up and the quiet intensity of the energy of a full shala. Purple Valley, cradled in the lush embrace of Goa, felt like a world suspended between movement and stillness. This is where I returned to myself—through breath, through sweat, through the steady rhythm of practice under Laruga’s unwavering presence.

To practice with Laruga is to step into a current stronger than yourself. It pulls, it holds, it teaches you to trust. The days moved like the tides. Practicing under her guidance was both grounding and expansive—each day a slow unraveling of patterns, a refining of awareness. Laruga’s teaching is both direct and compassionate, offering subtle yet profound cues that have reshaped the way I approach the practice. She sees what’s unspoken—the hesitation before a transition, the unconscious gripping, the unnecessary struggle. In her adjustments, her words, even in her silences, there is an invitation: to breathe, to move with more intelligence, to be fully in the experience rather than just pushing through it, a reminder that strength is not in resistance but in surrender. There was nowhere to hide. The practice asked for everything. I found myself softening—peeling away layers of effort to discover something more essential, something true.

After practice, there were coconuts, a wholesome breakfast followed by chanting and then, we sat in silent meditation. No distractions, no movement—just the raw confrontation of the self. The stillness was piercing. It’s easy to move through life skimming the surface, but in these moments, there was nowhere to hide. Thoughts rose and fell, resistance bubbled up, the urge to fidget, to plan, to escape—but there was only one way through: to sit with it all. Meditation after intense physical practice is different. The body is exhausted, the mind tender, and in that vulnerability, clarity emerges. It was in those moments of silence that I truly understood Laruga’s words: "the exercise of discipline is a complex task. To be free, we must be completely honest with ourselves."

After meditation, there was discourse. These were not just theoretical discussions; they were living inquiries into the practice and how it unfolds beyond the mat. Laruga would read excerpts from books, play us snippets of intellectual talks, and guide discussions that blurred the line between philosophy and real life. We sat in a sharing circle, opening up about what the practice revealed to us, how it tested us, and how its lessons echoed in our daily interactions.

The afternoons were for workshops—a deep dive into the technical aspects of the Primary and Intermediate Series. We dissected transitions, unpacked postures, and explored the mechanics of breath and bandhas in ways that aren’t possible in a regular Mysore setting.

But what happens when the yoga retreat ends?

The real work is not in those weeks of immersion but in the quiet, ordinary moments that follow. When the container is gone, and the distractions of daily life return. It’s easy to lose sight of what was gained, to let the mind be pulled outward again, chasing more instead of seeing what is already here. Happiness, as Laruga reminded us, is constantly experiencing what we already have and know within us—not about having more and more.

The practice continues, as it always does. Coming back to daily life, I’ve been sitting with the question: How do you carry that depth into a world that moves at a different pace? And so, the integration begins. The steadiness of breath in moments of uncertainty. The discipline to show up when no one is watching. A softer kind of discipline, one that isn’t about force but about consistency and attention.

Ashtanga is often seen as an individual practice, yet we are not alone. There is Sangha, there is community. But ultimately, this is a solitary path. When we eventually transcend to the other side, we will be on our own—so we must make friends with ourselves and be true to ourselves. Not everyone will walk through this narrow path, but those who do are answering a call.

February came and went, March moved on, with April a new lunar year has begun, but what remains is, a deeper imprint and a quiet knowing. The retreat doesn’t end. It simply shifts form. And so, I return—to the mat, to the breath, to the unfolding. Again and again. Always.

Let’s Practice Together

If this resonates with you, if you’re feeling the pull to deepen your practice, I invite you to join me. Whether you’re looking for structured guidance, a supportive community, or simply a space to return to yourself, I offer both in-person and online classes that weave together traditional Ashtanga practice with insights from my own journey.

The retreat may have ended, but the path continues. If you're ready to walk it, I’d love to support you. Sign up for a class here , connect with me on social media or send me message.