The Training That Cracked My Heart Wide Open

I took a 5-day intensive training called Sama-Ashtanga with Chuck Miller in LA. Since becoming a yoga teacher, I’ve completed thousands of hours of continuing education in the yoga world, but no other training has ever cracked my heart wide open like this one did. I couldn’t quite pinpoint why, so I decided to write about it as a way to process my experience over the past five days.

A Little Backstory

I graduated from 200- and 300-hour Yoga Teacher Training (YTT) programs with Yogaworks. Before it became corporate, Yogaworks was a simple yoga studio with big dreams, first opening its doors in Santa Monica in 1987. Its founders, Maty Ezraty, Chuck Miller, and Alan Finger, dedicated decades to bringing yoga to people from all walks of life. They played a huge role in breaking the stereotype of yoga as something only for “weird hippies” during the '80s and '90s, and they brought many yoga disciplines under one roof.

Yogaworks soon became a hub for incredible yoga teacher trainings. Many famous yoga teachers you may know today emerged from Yogaworks, such as Seane Corn, Annie Carpenter, Bryan Kest, Leslie Kaminoff, Mia Togo, Alexandria Crow, Tiffany Russo, and many more. Over time, Yogaworks expanded to countless locations in California and other states. In 2014, however, Yogaworks was bought by a corporate entity, and Maty, Chuck, and Alan stepped away.

I didn’t know the history of Yogaworks when I first enrolled in my 200-hour YTT, but I could tell the training was exceptionally organized, well-thought-out, came with great manuals, and a phenomenal foundation for yoga teachers. Naturally, I pursued my 300-hour YTT with Yogaworks the following year.

By this time, I hadn’t yet met Maty or Chuck, but their teachings, philosophies, and legends lived on through the teachers who trained me. After completing my 300-hour YTT, I concluded that I HAD to train with Maty. In my mind, she was a legend in the yoga world.

Maty traveled the globe to teach, but every winter, she returned to LA for a 10-day intensive training. I hesitated to sign up because the training was expensive, and I’d have to commute to LA using public transportation. Despite these challenges, I enrolled, knowing that investing in my yoga education was priceless.

A few months before the training, I received heartbreaking news: Maty had unexpectedly passed away at just 55 years old. Though I had never met her, I felt immense sadness because of the profound influence she had on so many teachers I admired.

This loss taught me an important lesson: never hold back on pursuing continuing education with the best yoga teachers. You never know when they might stop teaching. The money invested is always worth it, and learning from great masters is never wasted. From then on, I dove headfirst into continuing education.

As a full-time yoga teacher, I didn’t make much money, but I chose to prioritize my spending to align with my values. My top priorities became:

1. Traveling
2. Continuing education

Around this time, I began training with Annie Carpenter. Fast-forward to today, being able to assist Annie and having her blessing to teach her 200-hour YTT has been an unbelievable privilege.

Discovering Chuck Miller

A few months ago, I learned that Chuck Miller would be teaching a 5-day Sama-Ashtanga training in LA. As soon as I saw his name, I knew I had to sign up. Chuck, a founder of Yogaworks and Maty’s partner, is a pioneer in the yoga world. Until now, I had never seen him come to LA to teach.

For me, Chuck was a slightly mystical figure who lived in Hawaii and rarely traveled to teach. At 70 years old, I didn’t know much about his teaching style, philosophy, or vibe, but I knew I couldn’t miss the chance to experience his guidance.

The name of the training intimidated me slightly because it included the word “Ashtanga.” While I used to practice Ashtanga and even assisted my teacher in the Mysore room, I had stepped away from it as my primary asana practice since the pandemic.

However, the workshop description mentioned that the training was open to all levels, including beginners. Despite feeling a touch of imposter syndrome, I signed up.

The Training Experience

The training ran Monday through Friday, from 8 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. each day. The first three hours were dedicated to asana practice, followed by a 30-minute lunch break and then three hours of Q&A and workshopping concepts.

To avoid LA traffic, I decided to arrive early in Larchmont and spend time at a coffee shop before the training. Each morning, I woke up at 5 a.m., arrived by 6:30 or 7 a.m., and worked on my computer until it was time to practice.

On the first day of training, the entire three hours of asana practice focused on Samasthiti—a pose similar to Tadasana (mountain pose). In the afternoon session, we learned how to give and receive assists in Samasthiti.

Chuck started the training by saying, “Please be patient with me. We’re going to move really slow. Let’s have a beginner’s mind.” And he wasn’t kidding—we moved very slowly.

Although I found the focus on Samasthiti profound, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the training in the first couple of days. When my partner asked how it was going, I casually replied, “It’s good,” but I couldn’t articulate what I was learning or whether I enjoyed it. Thoughts of skipping crossed my mind, but I stuck with it.

He shared, “Yoga is the clearing of what takes us away from atha (the present moment).”

This principle guided our slow, intentional movements through the training — every time we moved, he encouraged us to move slow, like swimming in honey. It challenged our habitual need to rush and accomplish, reminding us to savor the present moment.

Falling Under Chuck’s Spell

By day three or four, I was hooked. Chuck’s energy pulled me in like a magnet. I didn’t want to miss a single word or assist he gave—not just to me, but to other students as well. Everything about him—his stories, energy, and wisdom—was captivating.

Each afternoon session began with a Q&A. Chuck sat at the front of the room, answering questions or sharing stories from his life, his teachers, and books he’d read. His stories were magical and always connected beautifully to his teachings. What amazed me was that he never answered questions directly. Instead, he answered with stories. And in a mysterious way, many of the stories he shared throughout the five days wove together seamlessly, forming a thread that carried through the training until the very last day.

On the final day, he shared stories of his encounters with Indra Devi. He told us about a Shiva Om chanting recording she had shared in the ’90s—an old, scratched-up audio recording that he still had. Then, he asked if we’d like to hear it as our final moment of the training. We said yes.

As the worn recording played, he encouraged us to sing along. As we chanted, tears began to roll down my cheeks. In that moment, Chuck reminded us that the tradition of yoga is not meant to be locked away and preserved like a relic—it is alive. It must be lived, allowed to transform and evolve. "Like a flame," he said, "let’s not let it turn to ashes, but keep the fire going."

His humility stood out to me. He never carried an air of ego and often said, “I don’t know,” when he didn’t have an answer. He encouraged us to challenge his teachings and facilitated everything with kindness, love, and compassion.

Chuck modeled what’s possible as a yoga teacher.

As I left the training, I felt deeply moved—not just by what I had learned, but by how it was taught. Chuck embodied the essence of a true teacher: one who guides with humility, wisdom, love, compassion, and an open heart. His stories, his presence, and his way of keeping the tradition alive left an imprint on me that I will carry forward in my own teaching.

Walking away, I felt the weight of my role as a yoga teacher—the responsibility not just to share knowledge, but to honor the tradition in a way that keeps it alive. It matters how we pass on these teachings, how we share the wisdom, and how we keep the fire burning for those who come after us. And just like Chuck did for us, I hope to pass the flame on.