Holding Space, Finding Stillness: How Teaching Restorative Yoga Brought Me Back to Peace

I had a cranio-sacral therapy (CST) session recently that nearly left me in tears, not from pain, but from release. My massage therapist said something that stuck with me: “Your body responded so effortlessly, like it finally felt safe enough to let go completely.”

That moment landed deep.

That sense of safety, that ability to surrender, has never come easily to me. For a long time, my body was (still is?) on high alert. I held on TIGHT -- to trauma, to resistance, to insecurity, to the belief that I had to stay in control to be okay. Rest didn’t feel safe. Stillness felt threatening. Letting go, even just for a breath, felt like a risk I couldn’t afford to take.

Which is why this shift, a new sense of being able to actually let go, feels so meaningful. So healing. So sacred.

It’s also exactly the energy I try to cultivate when I teach Restorative Yoga: a space where the body can feel safe enough to soften, where the nervous system gets permission to exhale, where nothing is asked of you but to be.

If you've ever taken my class, you'll notice I’m not usually doing the practice alongside my students. I rarely demo, even when teaching a dynamic vinyasa flow, unless I know there are a lot of newbies in the room who need a little extra visual guidance. But my focus isn’t on my own alignment, it’s on theirs. I’d rather be fully tuned in to the bodies in the room than trying to focus on my own body. I’m there to witness, to hold and create space, not to perform.

Recently, I've noticed my own physical and emotional side effects of teaching Restorative Yoga each week. Even though I’m not lying in the shapes, even though I’m not actively “doing” the practice, I leave those classes changed. Calmer. Grounded. Open. Like my own body just got the message that it, too, can let go.

There’s a quiet, sacred exchange that happens when you hold space for someone else’s healing. When a student settles into stillness, when their breath slows, when the tears come or the jaw unclenches or the belly finally softens -- the room shifts. The energy becomes thick with trust, surrender, and presence. And in holding that space for them, I feel those same things bloom in me.

It reminds me that peace isn’t something I have to hustle toward. It’s something I can allow, something I can receive, simply by being present to it.

Restorative Yoga isn’t just about rest. It’s about safety. Trust. Permission. The kind of deep nervous system message that says:

You don’t have to fight anymore.

You are held.

You can let go now.

Teaching from that place, even without being in the poses, is a healing practice in itself. It’s a mirror that reflects where I still need softness. A reminder to slow down. A quiet voice that says: You, too, are worthy of care.

I may not always be the one on the mat. But I am still present and practicing yoga. Every time I hold space, I’m also holding myself. And in the silence, in the stillness, in the breath between words, I find my way home again.

To my Restorative Yoga students — thank you.

Thank you for showing up. For trusting me. For letting yourselves be held.

You’ve made it possible for me to feel held, too.

Your healing has invited my own.

xo,

Katie Cousins

e-RYT Certified Yoga Instructor

Pittsboro, NC

FireforgedYoga.com