How yoga therapists work: Practicing nonattachment through a 1,000-year storm

By Katie Hay

Becoming a yoga therapist

On my back, legs resting up the wall, blankets draped over me…“Breathe,”  instructed my yoga teacher. Relief. I was grieving the death of my father at age 20, and yoga became my lifeline. 

I went on to become a yoga teacher and then an IAYT-certified yoga therapist to share the practices that had saved me. Today, with more than a decade of practice, I have the knowledge to help students empower themselves to work with and through their challenges, and to cultivate whole-person healing and health.

In yoga we practice aparigraha (nonattachment) and work to understand impermanence as an inherent quality of life. But no amount of practice could have prepared me for what happened in the fall of 2024.

At that time, I was renting a beautiful studio in Black Mountain, North Carolina, to see individual yoga therapy clients. The Center Within was nestled in a quiet neighborhood, surrounded by homes, a Quaker meeting house, and a nonprofit, all enveloped by beautiful woods and a creek. Clients often used words like “quiet” and “peaceful” when they first arrived at the space.

From a 20-year-old finding a place to grieve on her yoga mat to a professional yoga therapist supporting her community through the aging process (a niche I discovered along the way), I had landed in my life’s work.

The turmoil

In September 2024, Hurricane Helene hit our town and the surrounding area with unimaginable force. Catastrophic flooding, wind, and mudslides devastated our forests, towns, and infrastructure. Many lost loved ones when homes flooded to the roof. A small square pale-yellow building with its corner very close to the corner of that of another small building; the view is behind a large tree with fall foliage, and the pale-yellow building appears to have scraped a flat path through mud to arrive in its position

My family and I evacuated for weeks, and the clients in my yoga therapy practice did the same.

The center was flooded with 5 feet of water. What was once a peaceful creek had turned into a raging river with enough force to lift up a building across the street and land it in the parking lot right in front of our entrance—where it sat for months. Most of the buildings around it had been swept away; those that remained bore spray-painted Xs marking them for demolition.

Grief coursed through me as I came to accept a new reality. What was once a sanctuary was now a construction zone. Yet decades of yoga practice made it a bit easier for me to release attachment to that space so I could find the clarity to move forward.

I kept in touch with the students from my yoga therapy practice during those first weeks, which turned into months as I pivoted to find a space where we could meet again.

As I talked through options with friends, one suggested I consider my own property. We have a building set back from the house that my remote-working husband uses as an office. Could that become a yoga studio?

Rebuilding and reconnecting

IInterior view of a small room with two yoga mats on the floor and shelving stacked with yoga props to one sidet all clicked into place. Alongside grief and tears and hope, it took a fair amount of work to set up the space as a yoga therapy studio. It turned out beautifully, with a stunning mountain view. And I love my peaceful space.

Making this pivot worked, and it’s nothing I would’ve considered had the storm not come through. A storm that reshaped mountains that have stood tall for millions of years. In comparison, my pivot to a new yoga space is a tiny one. Still, the hurricane was a vital reminder of our nonattachment practice, which can ultimately allow freedom, growth, and evolution.

My yoga therapy clients now love my little studio, too, as we navigate post-storm life together. I’m grateful they stuck with me, accepting the new practice space and returning to their yoga. I am excited to, once again, have a grounded place from which to grow. And I now have this new perspective on aparigraha to inform my work.

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Sometimes seemingly insurmountable obstacles are placed in our way. These obstacles can set us on a new course, the path we are truly meant to walk.

Through the death of my father and Hurricane Helene, yoga was a place I found my footing.

It feels more important than ever to continue sharing the gifts of yoga with my community as we navigate the aftermath of the hurricane. And as we prepare for the other storms we will inevitably face in our lifetimes.

Katie Hay, E-RYT 500, C-IAYT, has taught yoga for 15 years, offering weekly classes, workshops, teacher trainings, and one-to-one yoga therapy with a focus on empowering students to age with optimal health. She has a private yoga therapy practice in Black Mountain, North Carolina.