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As teachers, we spend years learning how to instruct, correct, and refine movement.
We study anatomy, biomechanics, and alignment.
We practice seeing what’s wrong — and fixing it.
But what if the most intelligent thing we can do in teaching (and in life) is to stop assuming the body needs to be fixed?
What if the body already knows?
The body isn’t just a vessel we train — it’s a teacher in its own right.
Every joint, every line of fascia, every breath carries a kind of memory — a living intelligence shaped by millions of years of adaptation.
It knows how to find balance, how to organize around gravity, how to restore efficiency when we give it the chance.
But most of us, in our good intentions, have forgotten how to listen.
We teach as if we must impose knowledge on the body — instead of learning from it.
We cue, correct, and control, believing that precision equals mastery.
Yet true mastery might look a little different.
It might look like trust.
Trusting the body doesn’t mean abandoning technique or structure.
It means teaching with the body rather than at it.
It means leaving space — in ourselves and in our clients — for awareness to emerge before action.
It means recognizing that when we try to do everything consciously, we override the body’s natural problem-solving system.
When we trust biointelligence, we allow small, organic adjustments to happen — the kind we could never manufacture with words or willpower alone.
And that’s often when the most impressive changes occur.
Teaching from this place feels different.
It’s calmer, more connected, more effective.
Clients feel seen rather than managed.
And movement begins to feel effortless, integrated, whole.
There’s a quiet kind of cleverness in this shift — not the cleverness of doing more, but of doing smarter.
Instead of fighting against the body’s compensations, we listen to what they’re telling us.
Instead of forcing correction, we invite curiosity.
Instead of leading every step, we let the body lead us to where attention is needed.
This is not passive teaching.
It’s highly intelligent teaching.
It’s a dialogue — a constant exchange between awareness, gravity, and intention.
The teacher becomes a facilitator of discovery rather than a provider of answers.
And in that space, both teacher and client start to feel something new:
less struggle, more flow.
Every experienced teacher has had that moment — when a client’s movement surprises you, when something clicks that you didn’t plan.
That’s the body teaching you.
It might show you a new pathway, a more efficient rhythm, a connection you hadn’t seen before.
It might teach you that alignment isn’t static, or that stability comes from release, not effort.
It might remind you that teaching is as much about listening as it is about instructing.
When we stay open to those lessons, we grow faster than any course or method could ever make us grow.
We start to embody what we teach.
When teachers learn to trust this inner wisdom — their own and their clients’ — everything changes:
It’s not magic.
It’s biointelligence.
It’s what happens when you stop micromanaging movement and start collaborating with it.
In a world obsessed with more — more precision, more complexity, more output — trusting the body is a radical act.
It’s also the most intelligent one.
Because the truth is:
the body has been learning, adapting, and balancing far longer than our minds have been trying to explain it.
When we return to that trust — in ourselves, in our clients, in the quiet intelligence that underlies every breath and gesture — teaching becomes art again.
Not performance.
Not control.
Just presence, curiosity, and grace.
That’s not just smarter teaching.
That’s teaching that lasts.
Reflection for teachers:
When was the last time you let your body show you something new — instead of trying to make it do something right
If you’ve been teaching Pilates for any length of time, you’ve probably felt it: the weight of information. Anatomy charts, cueing methods, breath patterns, movement philosophies, biomechanics frameworks — not to mention the latest courses, workshops, and conferences all promising the “right way” to teach.
It can feel like too much.
Some teachers respond by clinging to rules and rigid structures, convinced that precision is the only path to excellence. Others jump from method to method, always searching, never quite satisfied. And many end up in a cycle of overwhelm, questioning themselves, losing confidence, or even burning out.
And when we feel this way, it often spills over into our teaching. Our own overwhelm can quietly become our clients’ — through too many cues, too much explanation, or too little space to simply feel.
But here’s a truth worth remembering: teaching doesn’t have to be about doing more. It can be about doing less — with more clarity.
Pilates attracts thinkers and seekers. We love learning. We want to understand the “why” behind the movement. We study fascia lines, brain layers, nervous system regulation, and the physics of gravity.
But clients often come into class not for a lecture, but for an experience. They want to feel better in their bodies, not memorize the difference between superficial and deep muscle fibers. When we overload them with cues, concepts, and corrections, they tune out — just as we do when we try to juggle too much as teachers.
The same pattern repeats on both sides: teacher and client, both trying too hard, both forgetting that movement thrives in simplicity.
Surrounded by so many approaches — classical, contemporary, somatic, Spiraldynamik, anatomy trains, biomechanics — we try to hold everything at once. We think we need to master every detail before we can be good teachers. And the result? Overwhelm.
Sometimes, all it takes to transform a movement is the tiniest change — a small adjustment in alignment, focus, or intention that ripples through the whole body.
Think about cueing a client in the Hundred. Instead of layering ten instructions, you might just invite them to soften the sternum. That tiny adjustment helps the ribs drop, the abdominals connect, the neck release. One cue does the work of many.
This is more than a teaching technique. It’s a mindset. The 2mm shift reminds us that progress doesn’t come from complexity, but from precision, clarity, and trust in the body’s intelligence.
So what allows that 2mm shift to be so powerful? It’s the body’s biointelligence — the inherent wisdom and responsiveness built into our physical system.
Biointelligence is the body’s capacity to self-organize, adapt, and restore balance when given the right input. It’s the communication between bones, fascia, muscles, breath, and the nervous system — a silent conversation happening every second we move.
When we teach through biointelligence, we don’t impose movement from the outside. We awaken the body’s natural ability to find alignment and efficiency from within.
That’s why a single, intelligent cue can change everything. It doesn’t “fix” the body; it activates the system’s ability to reorganize itself.
For example:
This is biointelligence at work.
It reminds us that as teachers, our job is not to force movement into shape but to create the conditions for awareness. The body does the rest.
Understanding this principle transforms how we teach. Instead of cueing for control, we cue for connection. Instead of overloading clients with words, we invite them into experience. And that’s when the 2mm shift becomes not just mechanical, but intelligent — a spark that the body knows exactly how to amplify.
There’s a difference between manufactured action and inspired manifestation.
Manufactured teaching is what happens when we try to force outcomes. We over-instruct, over-correct, and micromanage. The body looks “right” on the outside, but the movement feels rigid, drained of life.
Inspired teaching, on the other hand, creates conditions for the body to organize itself. It leaves space for discovery. It trusts gravity as a supportive force, not an enemy to fight against. It respects that the nervous system, bones, and muscles are wired for adaptation if given the right nudge.
When we teach from inspiration rather than manufacture, we stop trying to control every millimeter of a client’s body. We guide, we suggest, we wait — and we witness authentic change.
Our role as teachers is not to perform a perfect sequence, or to prove our knowledge. We are there to solve problems.
A client comes in with fear of movement because of arthritis. Another is so much “in their head” that they overthink every cue. Another feels stuck in their posture and doesn’t know how to change it.
Our job is not to throw information at them. It’s to meet them where they are, choose the one shift that matters most, and help them experience success.
That’s what keeps clients coming back. Not our technical explanations, but our ability to make them feel capable, safe, and transformed in their own bodies.
One of the simplest yet most profound shifts we can make in our teaching is to recognize that gravity is not the enemy.
So often we cue clients to “lift, resist, fight against.” But gravity is also what aligns bones, supports posture, and gives us feedback.
When clients feel heavy, we can invite them to experience weight as grounding, supportive. When they feel disconnected, we can let gravity guide them back into awareness.
This shift in perspective is freeing for us too. Instead of battling with bodies, we align with natural forces. We allow movement to become less of a struggle and more of a partnership.
What does all of this mean for you as a Pilates teacher who wants to keep learning, growing, and building a thriving practice?
It means you don’t need to master every method or explain every detail. You don’t need to overwhelm yourself or your clients with complexity.
Instead:
When we simplify, we not only free ourselves — we free our clients too.
Interestingly, this idea of simplicity and small shifts doesn’t only apply to teaching. It applies to running your Pilates business, too.
Small, intentional changes can ripple into huge differences in your growth, sustainability, and joy as a teacher.
The next time you feel overwhelmed — by your training, by competing methods, by the weight of “doing it all” — pause. Remember that teaching doesn’t have to be heavy.
Look for the 2mm shift.
Maybe it’s a cue. Maybe it’s an attitude. Maybe it’s a shift in how you see your own role.
Whatever it is, trust that it can ripple through your teaching, your clients, and your life in ways that are far greater than its size.
Because Pilates is not about manufacturing perfection. It’s about inspiring transformation. And sometimes, that begins with the smallest of shifts.
There are days when you leave the studio buzzing.
Your body is alive, your voice strong, your students glowing with that unmistakable “just-moved” energy. Someone lingers after class, not to ask about technique but simply because they don’t want to leave the space you’ve created.
And then there are the other days.
You show up, you do the work, you teach the sequence you’ve taught a hundred times before. It’s not bad, but it feels flat. You go home more tired than when you started, wondering if this is what teaching is supposed to feel like.
The difference isn’t the exercises.
It isn’t the studio.
It isn’t even the clients.
The difference is your energy.
Most of us think growth comes from doing more: more courses, more certifications, more social media, more hours on the schedule. But underneath it all, what truly shapes your teaching, your business, and your life — is how you manage your energy.
Energy is your currency. Every day you are spending it, investing it, and sometimes wasting it. And just like money, when you spend unconsciously, you end up depleted. But when you choose wisely, the return is exponential.
In teacher training, we learn anatomy, repertoire, cueing. All important, of course. But very few of us were ever asked:
We learned to plan classes, but not to plan energy. And yet, the truth is this: your clients will remember less about the exact exercises and more about the way they felt in your presence.
That presence comes from your state.
Think of the last time you walked into a class and immediately sensed the teacher’s energy — maybe light and joyful, maybe tired and distracted. You felt it before a word was spoken.
Your clients feel the same with you.
They don’t need you to be perfect, but they do feel the difference between a teacher teaching from overflow and a teacher teaching from depletion.
That’s why learning to manage your own state is not a luxury. It’s professional responsibility. It’s also the key to making teaching sustainable, so you don’t burn out before your work has a chance to grow.
Let me tell you how I started thinking of energy as a bank account.
There was a period when I said yes to everything: covering classes I didn’t want to teach, squeezing in privates back-to-back without breaks, answering messages late at night. My schedule was full, but my spirit was running on empty.
That was a season of withdrawals. Every yes that wasn’t aligned was money leaving the account. Every rushed meal, every skipped pause, every client I over-gave to without replenishing — more withdrawals.
What shifted things wasn’t adding more hours. It was asking: What are my deposits?
For me, it was taking a quiet walk before my first client. Journaling for ten minutes instead of scrolling. Saying no without guilt. Moving for myself, not just demonstrating for others.
The balance began to change.
Here’s something I’ve noticed: when my energy is strong, courage follows.
It becomes easier to raise rates, to turn down opportunities that don’t fit, to start projects that excite me but scare me a little. When energy is low, fear takes over. Everything feels like too much, so I retreat into the safe and familiar.
You’ve probably felt it too.
That day when you felt alive in your body, and suddenly possibilities looked bigger. Or the day you dragged yourself to class, and even the smallest decision felt impossible.
Energy isn’t just fuel — it’s courage in disguise.
Here’s a practice that can change everything — and it only takes a minute.
Before your first client, between classes, or before you sit down to plan, pause for a short energy check-in:
It’s a small ritual, but repeated daily it builds awareness — and awareness is the doorway to change.
Here’s the most beautiful part: when you start teaching from fullness, your students feel it.
They may not say it directly, but they’ll stay longer after class, they’ll ask deeper questions, they’ll bring more of themselves to the work. Because your state gives them permission to expand theirs.
This is the invisible ripple of energy.
It’s not only about you — it’s about everyone you touch.
Energy is your most precious currency. Spend it without awareness, and you’ll always feel poor. Invest it wisely, and your teaching, your business, and your life will flourish in ways no strategy alone can create.
So today, before you rush to the next thing, pause.
Check your account.
And ask yourself: Am I spending, wasting, or investing my energy?
Because when your account is full, you don’t just survive as a teacher.
You create. You inspire. You live.
There’s a moment many of us know all too well.
You finish teaching a class. The energy in the room is warm and alive. A student lingers behind, rolling up their mat slowly. They’ve just told you how much better they feel after class, how their back pain is easing, or how they finally felt their breath drop deeper than usual. You can feel it in them — they are ready for more.
And then comes that moment: do you suggest continuing? Do you mention private sessions? Do you share your package options?
For many teachers, this is where the heart sinks. It feels awkward. You don’t want to sound “salesy.” You don’t want them to think you’re pushing for money. So you smile, thank them, and let them walk away — even though deep down you know they might never come back on their own.
This is where I want to pause with you. Because this hesitation, this gap between what you feel in your heart and what you allow yourself to say, is not just about sales. It’s about how we see our role as teachers — and whether we give ourselves permission to fully stand for our clients’ transformation.
The word sales has collected a heavy weight over time. For many, it carries associations of manipulation, pressure, or trickery. But when we strip it back to its essence, selling is simply making an invitation.
It’s saying: I see what’s possible for you. I believe in what this work can do. And I’m willing to walk alongside you if you want to continue.
If you care about your clients’ growth — and I know you do — then offering them a way to continue is one of the most loving things you can do. Because what happens when you don’t? They may drift away, lose momentum, and slip back into the same pain or patterns that first brought them to you.
Think about it: when you sell with care, you are not “taking” something from them. You are giving them structure, consistency, and commitment — the very conditions that allow transformation to happen.
Sales is service. Sales is love in action.
So why, if this is true, do so many teachers still struggle?
Because most of us were never taught how to do it. Teacher trainings focus on anatomy, repertoire, cueing — all of which matter deeply. But almost no one teaches us how to communicate our value, how to invite clients to work with us, or how to price and package our offerings with confidence.
Left to figure it out on our own, we often copy what others do. We mimic phrases, scripts, or “marketing tips” that don’t feel natural. And when it feels false, our whole body resists.
That resistance is not a sign that you can’t sell. It’s a sign that you haven’t yet found your own voice in sales — the same way you once had to find your voice as a teacher.
Think back to your first Pilates class as a teacher. Maybe you read straight from your notes. Maybe your voice trembled a little. Maybe you stuck rigidly to the sequence you memorized, afraid to deviate.
Over time, you found your rhythm. You stopped mimicking your trainer and started teaching from your own presence, your own embodiment.
Selling is no different.
At first, it feels mechanical. You repeat phrases that don’t sound like you. But with practice, you learn to speak from your heart. You learn to weave sales into genuine conversation. You begin to trust that your care and your clarity are enough.
Here are a few small shifts that can help:
Let me share a story.
One of our teachers in the Inner Circle told me about a client who came regularly to her mat classes. After months of attending, the client mentioned how she still struggled with neck tension at work. The teacher hesitated but finally suggested: “You know, in a private session we could focus specifically on your posture at the desk. Would you like to try that?”
The client’s face lit up. Not only did she book the session — she later signed up for a package. And the result? Her headaches decreased, her productivity at work improved, and she began referring her colleagues.
All because the teacher allowed herself to make the invitation.
This is what aligned sales looks like. It’s not about scripts. It’s about listening, caring, and pointing out the next step when you see it.
Here’s the truth: you already have the skills you need.
Every time you cue a movement, you are selling. You are inviting your client to trust you enough to try something new. Every time you adapt an exercise for their body, you are showing them that you see them, that you are on their side.
Sales is not separate from teaching. It is teaching extended into the future.
There is no single right sentence, no perfect formula. Just as no two classes are ever the same, no two sales conversations should be. What matters is that you stay grounded in your values and your care.
Ask yourself:
Your answers are your script.
If you take one thing from this, let it be this:
Selling is not a betrayal of your love for teaching. It is the bridge that allows your teaching to make a lasting difference in people’s lives.
When you sell with integrity, you are not asking for money. You are offering commitment. You are saying to your clients: I believe in your growth, and I am here for the journey, not just this one moment.
And isn’t that why you became a teacher in the first place?
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We are at a turning point in our industry. Artificial Intelligence (AI) is advancing at lightning speed, transforming how people work, communicate—and even exercise.
According to PwC, AI could add $15.7 trillion to the global economy by 2030, making it one of the most disruptive forces of our time. That means opportunity, but also risk.
For us as Pilates teachers, the big question is simple:
How do we stay relevant and valuable in a world where AI can replicate classes, voices, and even faces?
Classes and sessions will always matter. But in the years ahead, the most powerful service you can offer is events—immersive, transformational experiences.
Events can take many forms:
No matter the format, the purpose is the same: to give people something they cannot get from a screen.
An event isn’t just a Pilates class in a nice location. Done well, it becomes a journey of change—a space where people feel alive again, connected, and transformed.
AI isn’t just making life faster. It’s also quietly reshaping how people relate to themselves and others.
In short, people are spending more time in their heads—and less in their bodies and spirits.
But Pilates has never been just about the mind. It is a trinity of body, mind, and spirit.
If AI pushes people further into efficiency and disconnection, their body and spirit risk being left behind. That’s where you come in. Your role is to bring people back into experiences that are raw, real, and deeply human.
AI is already capable of generating customized Pilates workouts in seconds. Avatars that look, sound, and move like us are being built right now.
For people seeking the cheapest, quickest option—that may be enough.
But AI cannot replicate:
This is what makes your work irreplaceable. This is why events matter.
Joseph Pilates once said: “Civilization is the greatest enemy of mankind.” If he were here today, he might say the same about an AI-driven world.
But the strongest aren’t those who resist change. The strongest are those who adapt.
Pilates professionals must now innovate—not just by adding new exercises, but by creating new experiences. Moments where people reconnect with their body, spirit, and one another.
Rise to that challenge, and you won’t just survive—you’ll thrive.
At its heart, Pilates has always been about happiness:
Events magnify that joy. They take people out of their routines and give them memories they carry for life.
This is where you step beyond being a “teacher of classes” and become a leader of transformation.
This month inside our Inner Circle, we’ve been exploring exactly this: how to adapt in an AI-driven world, design transformational events, and position yourself as the teacher people seek for soul-filled experiences.
If you’re already part of the Inner Circle, you know this is where Pilates teachers come together to deepen their technical mastery, pursue their personal growth, and build the kind of business that truly sustains them.
And if you’re not yet a member, this is the moment to explore what the Inner Circle can bring to your teaching and your future.
👉 Learn more about the IVA Pilates Inner Circle.
Pilates isn’t just about looking fit. It’s about becoming the architect of your own happiness—and guiding others to do the same.
There’s a moment that every teacher faces at some point in their practice.
A client walks in with a diagnosis. A limitation. A story of pain, recovery, or fear. Maybe they’ve had surgery. Maybe they’re dealing with arthritis, a herniated disc, or the slow changes of aging. Maybe they don’t say much at all — they just move like someone who no longer trusts their body.
And in that moment, we often shrink our scope.
We tread lightly. We worry. We simplify and soften the session — sometimes so much that we forget the bigger truth:
This body still wants to move.
This body still holds possibility.
This body still deserves to be fully seen.
The RESTORE approach starts right here — not with a protocol, but with a shift in how we see limitation. It’s not the opposite of strength or function. It’s an invitation. A doorway. A place where something new can begin.
And it’s this reframe — simple but radical — that can completely change the way we teach.
So much of what we’re taught as teachers focuses on fixing what’s “wrong.” But what if we taught from the other side of the lens? What if we saw pain, injury, or healing not as the center of the story, but as context — important, yes, but not the whole?
This isn’t about ignoring red flags. Being trauma- and rehab-informed is essential.
But healing doesn’t only happen through precision.
It happens through presence. Through energy. Through what we choose to focus on.
In the RESTORE framework, we start by looking at what’s available — not just physically, but energetically and emotionally. We build the session around what the body can do. We shift from “working around the issue” to “working with what’s alive.”
Focus on what’s missing, and the body contracts.
Focus on what’s possible, and the body opens.
One of the most powerful insights from RESTORE is this:
Courage is the first tipping point.
Before strength, before range, before stability — there is courage.
It takes courage to try again.
To move when it once hurt.
To breathe fully when your ribs are used to bracing.
To trust a body that has let you down — or been through something hard.
And it takes courage to teach from that place too.
To stop hiding behind technique and speak to what your client is feeling, not just what they’re doing. To recognize fear, not as a weakness, but as part of the healing landscape.
The body holds that emotional charge. And movement — when offered with care and presence — can release it.
You can teach a “safe” session using all the right modifications — and still leave a client feeling flat.
Or you can create a restorative experience that shifts something deeper by integrating emotion, energy, and spirit — not in a mystical way, but through breath, intention, and touch.
In RESTORE, we work with:
This is where the session becomes more than a sequence.
It becomes a restoration of agency — of dignity, of confidence, of life-force.
One of the biggest mistakes teachers make when working with post-rehab or senior clients is isolating the “problem” and forgetting the rest of the system.
If someone can’t flex their spine, we avoid it — understandably. But too often, we also unconsciously start minimizing everything else.
“If flexion is contraindicated, you leave it out. But everything else — the arms, the breath, the sides, the rotation — that’s what you work with. You give the body a full experience.”
This is what we mean by Full Body Commitment.
It’s not about doing every exercise.
It’s about honoring the intelligence of the body as a whole — even when part of it is healing.
And physiologically, this matters. Because movement doesn’t just live in the joints. It lives in the nervous system. In proprioception. In the energy field that gets activated when we expand — not collapse — the session.
We’re not just guiding spines and shoulders.
We’re guiding humans. With layered histories, complex stories, and a deep need to feel safe and empowered.
And healing doesn’t happen through mechanics alone.
It happens when we teach the person, not the protocol.
It happens when we help them experience the body as theirs again.
This month, our sessions inside the Innovative Virtual Academy (IVA) Inner Circle are dedicated to this very topic:
Teaching Pilates when the body needs to heal.
We’re exploring:
And we’re doing it the way we always do inside IVA' Pilates — with depth, care, embodiment, and community.
This is not surface-level teaching.
It’s a return to the roots of what this work can be: restorative, intelligent, deeply human.
If any of this speaks to you…
If something in your gut says there’s more here — more to learn, more to offer…
If you know you’re here to teach in a way that heals, not just instructs —
We’d love to invite you into the conversation and the online learning experiences we’re having this month inside the IVA Pilates Inner Circle.
This month, we’re exploring how to teach when the body is in need of restoration — how to hold space, guide movement with care, and support healing with integrity and skill.
It’s not a course. It’s not a masterclass.
It’s a space to grow. Together.
With others who care as deeply as you do.
If that feels right for where you are… Click here to explore this month’s focus and join the conversation.
Limitation is not the end of the road.
It’s not something to work around or apologize for.
It’s an entry point into deeper listening.
A reminder that movement can mean more.
That healing isn’t just about what gets restored physically — but about what gets remembered, reclaimed, re-energized.
And if that’s the kind of teaching you want to do — you don’t have to wait until you’re “ready.”
You just have to begin.
With breath.
With care.
With a new way of seeing.
We’ll be right here to walk with you.
Click here to learn more or join this month’s focus. We’d love to welcome you in.
I came into the Pilates world as a deeply obedient student.
I was dedicated. Diligent. Faithful to the form.
I studied with reverence—treating every word my mentors spoke as sacred truth. I followed the lineages, the line-ups, the line-by-line execution of the work.
I believed that mastery meant obedience. That discipline was the doorway to wisdom.
And then—came contradiction.
Different teachers. Different trainings. Different “correct” forms. Different sacred laws.
At first, it confused me.
Then, it cracked something open.
I realized:
There isn’t just one right way.
There are many.
There are many bodies. Many needs. Many stories.
And maybe the most important story—the one Joseph and Clara held in their hearts when they developed this method—was a simple one:
“Everyone should be doing these exercises… because they would be happier. And the world would be a happier place.”
—Joseph Pilates
How did a method that was born to uplift the human spirit become so serious?
So stiff?
So perfectionist?
How did Contrology—once about freedom through movement—turn into controlling every outcome, every breath, every limb… until the joy slowly drained from the work?
Yes—Pilates is genius.
Yes—Pilates is intelligent.
Yes—Pilates is precise.
But Pilates is also human.
And humans—we’re wired for joy.
We learn better when we laugh.
We breathe better when we relax.
We move better when we feel safe.
And fun? Fun creates that safety.
You don’t have to take my word for it—let’s talk nervous system for a moment.
When we laugh, smile, or feel playful and at ease:
So ironically, all the pressure to “get it right”—the over-correcting, over-cueing, and tension we sometimes bring to our teaching—might be working against the conditions that actually allow transformation to happen.
Twenty years of teaching before I gave myself permission to loosen up.
To bring my full humanity into the room.
To teach not just with structure, but with soul.
And no, that doesn’t mean diluting the work or abandoning standards.
It means meeting people—my clients and myself—where they really are.
It means letting my joy in.
I started bringing humor into the studio.
Not as a gimmick or distraction, but as medicine—a way to help people feel safe, grounded, and seen.
Because joy isn’t something we add on top of good teaching.
It is good teaching.
When we bring that presence, that lightness, into our work—something beautiful happens.
When joy is in the room, something shifts.
We become more intuitive.
We stop trying to “perform” and start co-creating with our clients.
We move from being the expert to being a curious, present partner.
That’s when we start reading the room better—the breath patterns, the tension, the emotional states our clients don’t always say out loud.
And when the body feels safe, it opens.
And when it opens, the work works.
When was the last time you laughed in a session?
When was the last time you had fun teaching the method?
When was the last time your client left not just aligned—but smiling from the inside out?
If you already bring joy into your work—keep going.
You are restoring something ancient, necessary, and real.
If not… maybe it’s time.
To let a little more light in.
To loosen the grip.
To invite in not just discipline—but delight.
A little less rigidity.
A little more humanity.
A little more you.
Because as Guru Singh says:
“When we let go of needing to be right, we find our rhythm. And in that rhythm, we find our joy.”
Let’s remember what this method was meant to do.
Let’s reclaim fun—not as a distraction from the work, but as a powerful part of it.
Let’s return to the original intent of Pilates:
A better, brighter world—one joyful body at a time.
The Pilates world is different. It’s rooted in care, in service, in soul.
We don’t just teach exercises—we help people reconnect with themselves. We guide, we witness, we hold space. Most of us came into this work because we wanted to uplift others, to support healing through movement, to be a quiet but helpful presence in someone else’s life.
We are a good industry.
And yet—too often, the good ones don’t thrive. Not because we’re not skilled or passionate, but because we’ve been taught to follow carefully, obediently—and hope that being “good” will be enough.
How do we stay true to our values and still build something bold and fulfilling? How do we lead with kindness and grace, but still grow in a world that often rewards volume over depth?
That was the question I brought into a recent seminar—a conversation between a marketing expert and a yoga master, who spoke about business in the most soulful way I’ve ever heard.
And what they said hit me hard:
Just because you follow someone else’s steps doesn’t mean you’ll arrive at their destination.
At first glance, copying what worked for someone else seems like the safest path. Use their pricing, mimic their cues, post like they do. And when that doesn’t work, we assume we did it wrong—when in truth, we simply aren't them.
We often look to mentors or programs thinking they’ll give us a fast track to success. But mentorship isn’t about skipping the journey. It’s about making the journey your own.
A true mentor doesn’t hand you a map. They help you build your compass.
All the tools and techniques in the world won’t bring your work to life unless they’re integrated with your voice, your intuition, your lived experience, and your genius.
For years, I tried to model exactly what my teachers showed me. I taught with discipline, followed the rules, and ticked all the boxes. And to be fair—I built a solid career.
But it wasn’t until I stopped mimicking and started integrating that everything changed. When I allowed myself to step fully into my own way of teaching—when I dared to infuse myself into my work—that’s when it truly came alive.
And it wasn’t just my own growth that changed. That’s when I started helping others do the same: to find their voice, their own rhythm, their truth.
Yes, it’s a scary step. Letting go of the "right" way can feel like walking into the unknown. But it’s also the most liberating, creative, and powerful thing you can do. And you don’t have to do it alone.
This is what I hope for our generation of teachers:
That we stop being replicas.
That we stop thinking confidence will come from collecting more certifications.
That we stop waiting for permission to teach in a way that feels true to us.
We have the freedom right now to create a new kind of leadership in Pilates—one where we’re not boxed in by rigid systems or expectations. One where we’re free in our teaching, our bodies, our creativity, and our business.
This isn’t just about refining your technique. It’s about reclaiming your voice. Building something that feels alive, aligned, and meaningful.
I’m not here to lead from above. I’m walking this path too. Choosing presence over perfection. Choosing integration over imitation. Choosing to create something that feels like home.
Don’t wait until you feel “ready.”
Don’t make yourself smaller to fit someone else’s idea of success.
And please—don’t let your unique brilliance get buried in the name of being “correct.”
You’ve followed long enough. Now it’s time to lead. With soul. With strength. With sovereignty.
Let your Pilates speak from your truth. Let it reflect you.
Because the future of this method?
It doesn’t belong to the loudest. It belongs to the most real.
And we need you to be exactly that.
If this message resonates with you—if you’ve been feeling the pull to grow, to teach more authentically, and to build something that truly reflects who you are—know that you don’t have to figure it all out alone. Inside the IVA Pilates Inner Circle, we’re spending this summer reconnecting with our voice, our vision, and our purpose. It’s not a program—it’s a community. A space where Pilates teachers come together to grow in skill, confidence, and soul. If you’ve been curious about joining, we’re opening the doors for a special Summer Camp trial—a free way to explore what’s possible when you’re supported, seen, and surrounded by others walking a similar path.
👉 Join the Summer Camp Trial Here
We’d love to have you with us.
There are moments in life that don’t come from strategy. They don’t arrive with spreadsheets or plans. They come from something deeper.
A whisper in your gut.
A vibration in your chest.
A knowing in your bones.
Maybe you’ve felt it too.
When I created what became the Innovative Virtual Academy, it wasn’t because the world needed another training platform. It wasn’t to stand out, scale, or “disrupt.”
It was a call I couldn’t ignore—and maybe, it’s one you’ve heard in your own way.
Because our industry is full of brilliance—and also full of burnout. Because too many teachers feel isolated. Because too much comparison has replaced real connection.
Have you noticed it, too?
Lineages divided.
Voices silenced.
Presence replaced with performance.
That’s why I didn’t build another system. I created IVA as a space to remember why we started—and to return to what’s real. A space where our differences aren’t threats—they’re gifts. Where we don’t compete—we co-create. Where each of us brings something essential to the table.
Yes, IVA stands for the Innovative Virtual Academy.
But really, it’s about this:
Can we return to the soul of our work? Together?
Joseph Pilates didn’t just give us exercises. He offered a worldview. He taught that movement heals. That a connected body creates a connected life. That stillness has power. That alignment—physical and personal—creates change.
And yet, we forget.
Caught in the scroll.
Chasing metrics.
Craving visibility.
We start performing Pilates instead of embodying it. And in that forgetting, I heard a clear message: Why not bring all remarkable and soulful teachers back together. Unite the lineages. Create something that gives, not takes.
IVA isn’t a program with shiny funnels or scripted outcomes. It’s a place for teachers to gather, grow, and be guided from within. We host conversations—not just trainings. We share tools—not just tips. We create space—for you to be seen, to share, and to lead with heart.
And yes—there’s curriculum.
There’s guidance.
There’s depth.
But none of it matters unless you feel called to teach from a deeper place.
I believe the way we run our business is a form of teaching. Not by selling harder—but by serving deeper. Because real success isn’t about algorithms.
It’s about alignment. About purpose. About meaning. And the teachers who thrive now? They’re not just skilled.
They’re soul-led. They’re clear. They care. They are themselves and authentic with heart.
IVA is for those teachers.
Maybe it’s for you.
We’re in a time of noise, speed, and fragmentation. And the answer isn’t louder messaging. It’s quieter truth. Pilates teachers have an essential role—not just in bodies, but in lives. We help people breathe again. Stand again. Trust again.
But we can’t offer that if we’re disconnected from ourselves.
So this is your invitation—
Not to perfect yourself.
But to root deeper.
To teach from soul.
To lead with care.
You don’t need to be further ahead. You don’t need to know how. You just need to feel it: That whisper in your gut that says, there’s something more. That your work isn’t about clients. It’s about contribution. That your practice isn’t about hustle. It’s about homecoming.
If that’s where you are—
You’ll find space here.
Visit ivapilates.com and our Inner Circle that is waiting for you with open doors.
Learn. Connect. Be seen. Lead forward.
Let’s rise.
With care.
With clarity.
With each other.
With heart,
Iva
Most people think their body is just a container—a vessel to sculpt, stretch, or fix.
But the body is not a container.
It’s a sponge.
And it’s a messenger.
It absorbs what we don’t say.
And it speaks what we don’t know how to name.
This understanding has shaped my life, my healing, and my work in ways I never imagined.
Have you ever wondered why pain shows up in your body even when nothing physical happened?
Why you wake up with tight shoulders, a locked jaw, an aching gut—even though your last workout was days ago?
These are not random occurrences.
In somatic therapy and trauma-informed movement education, it’s now widely accepted that:
"Unexpressed emotion becomes stored tension."
That means:
What the mind forgets or suppresses, the body archives.
Last year during a seminar at the Tony Robbins Research Institute, I was introduced to the powerful work of Michelle Blechner, a leading expert in family constellations.
Her message was simple but earth-shattering:
You are not just living your life. You are also living the unresolved stories of those who came before you.
This is what psychologist Anne Ancelin Schützenberger called “invisible loyalties”—the unconscious agreements we make with our family system to carry pain, repeat patterns, or maintain silence out of love or devotion.
Michelle and other constellations experts, like Alejandro Jodorowsky, teach that:
In fact, Jodorowsky writes:
“The disease is not the problem. It is the body asking us to face the unresolved secret.”
In my Pilates studio, I’ve seen this countless times.
A woman with chronic back pain who never knew her father left before she was born.
A man who can’t breathe deeply, whose grandfather died by suffocation in war.
A teenager with an unexplained hip injury—born exactly 50 years after her great-grandmother was assaulted.
These are not coincidences.
These are patterns.
And yet, in many fitness and rehab settings, we’re taught:
“You’re not a therapist.”
“Don’t get involved in people’s stories.”
“Just fix the body.”
But the truth is—there is no ‘just the body.’
The fascia holds memory.
The breath carries emotion.
The spine tells stories.
Every time someone walks into my studio, I know I’m not just teaching movement.
I’m holding a moment with another human being whose story is present—even if it hasn’t been told.
Modern research in epigenetics confirms what ancient traditions have always known:
Trauma can be inherited.
Studies show that:
This isn’t just about genetics. It’s about epigenetic expression—how the environment, emotion, and stress of our ancestors shape which genes get turned “on” or “off” in our bodies.
So when we experience:
It might not be about what’s happening now.
It might be about what happened then.
I’ve lived this firsthand.
For nearly 30 years, I had no conscious memory of a traumatic event from my childhood. I lived in numbness, in overachievement, in silence. I thought that was strength. I thought that was how I survived.
It wasn’t until the birth of my daughter that the memories came flooding back.
And with it, the realization that:
I was not only holding my secret—I was holding a pattern that existed on both my mother’s and father’s side.
Through years of inner work, and through family constellation experiences that cracked me open, I realized:
That is what healing is.
It’s not forgetting the past.
It’s refusing to reenact it.
Here’s how you can begin to connect the dots between what your body feels and what your soul may be holding:
Instead of dismissing recurring pain, ask:
“When did this start? What else was happening at that time?”
Look for patterns:
Before movement, take 2 minutes to breathe and ask:
“What is my body trying to say today?”
Let that guide your practice.
This is not talk therapy—it’s experiential. And it’s one of the most profound ways to unearth inherited patterns you didn’t know you were carrying.
What we hide, we hold.
What we speak, we can begin to release.
If you feel stuck in your healing, overwhelmed in your body, or lost in emotions that don’t make sense…
Know this:
You may be the one chosen to end the cycle.
To say: it stops with me.
To breathe new space into your family system.
To free the next generation—not just through what you teach, but through who you choose to become.
The body is not broken.
It’s just full of messages no one has ever translated.
Start listening.
You might be surprised what it’s been trying to tell you all along.
We’ve never known so much about the human body. About what keeps us healthy, mobile, strong, and well.
We’ve mapped the nervous system. Tracked the impact of movement on mental health. Discovered how breath regulates emotion, how fascia communicates, how the core is so much more than a muscle group.
And yet—so many of us don’t do what we know.
We teach the breath, but forget to pause and feel it. We cue the core, but rush through our own sessions. We know movement is medicine—but we’re too busy, too tired, too pulled in a thousand directions to take our own.
Even as Pilates teachers, it’s easy to get caught in that disconnect.
We want results—fast. So do our clients.
“Can we make it more intense?” “How many sessions until I see a difference?”
We live in a world that promises big change with minimal effort. Biohacks, tech hacks, 10-minute abs, three-step systems.
But Joseph Pilates didn’t believe in shortcuts.
He believed in the power of practice. In showing up every day. In testing, failing, iterating, adjusting. He believed that a healthy, vibrant body was the result of consistent effort—earned, not outsourced.
That’s what built his confidence. His unshakeable belief in the method wasn’t marketing—it was personal. It was proven. On his body. In his students. Over time.
And I think there’s something powerful there we need to remember.
Joseph Pilates wasn’t just a visionary. He was a living lab.
Born in Germany in 1883, Joe was a sickly child. Asthma, rickets, rheumatic fever. He was teased for his frailty—but he became obsessed with building his strength.
He studied anatomy, gymnastics, martial arts, boxing, yoga, skiing, diving—you name it. He watched animals move. He observed breath patterns. He experimented on his own body.
During WWI, interned in a camp in England, he developed the first versions of his equipment—transforming hospital beds into training machines. He worked with injured soldiers, adapting movement to meet them where they were.
That’s something I keep coming back to: he adapted to reality, but never gave up on the vision of what was possible.
In the 1920s, he moved to New York and opened a studio with his partner Clara. Dancers, athletes, everyday people came through their doors. And Joe kept refining, evolving, responding to what he saw.
He wasn’t following a set of rules. He was creating something based on lived experience.
He embodied the work.
That’s the question I’ve been sitting with lately.
We honor the method. We study it, train in it, teach it. But do we live it?
Do we take care of our own breath, our own spine, our own nervous system?
Do we create time to feel what we ask our clients to feel? Or are we too busy demonstrating, correcting, performing, pushing?
There’s no shame in falling out of practice. Life is full. But we can’t forget that the brilliance of Pilates isn’t just in how well we cue it—it’s in how deeply we live it.
Joe wasn’t dogmatic. He wasn’t afraid to evolve.
He didn’t rely on other people’s approval or social media likes. He trusted what he felt. He tested ideas in real bodies. He adjusted when something didn’t work.
He believed movement could change lives—because it changed his.
So let’s be more like Joe:
So this is my gentle invitation: return to your own practice.
It doesn’t need to be fancy. It doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be yours.
Set aside the time. Notice what’s changed in your body. Pay attention to what it’s asking for. Reconnect with your breath. Move through the discomfort. Stay curious.
Because the most powerful teaching comes not from knowledge—but from knowing through experience.
That’s how Joe taught.
That’s how he built something that outlived him.
And that’s how we, as Pilates teachers, stay not just skilled—but alive, connected, and real.
So this is my gentle invitation: return to your own practice.
It doesn’t need to be fancy. It doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be yours.
Set aside the time. Notice what’s changed in your body. Pay attention to what it’s asking for. Reconnect with your breath. Move through the discomfort. Stay curious.
Because the most powerful teaching comes not from knowledge—but from knowing through experience.
That’s how Joe taught.
That’s how he built something that outlived him.
And that’s how we, as Pilates teachers, stay not just skilled—but alive, connected, and real.
I’m not writing this from a place of perfection—I’ve been there too.
Not long ago, I found myself doing exactly what I teach others not to do: pouring all my energy into work, teaching, creating, delivering… but leaving no time for my own body. I wasn’t practicing. I wasn’t listening to myself. I was out of alignment with the very values I hold dear.
Something had to shift.
So I made the choice to recommit. I returned to my own workouts—not as a performance, but as a way to reconnect with myself. And now, I’m opening that space to others, too.
Every two weeks, I lead free live masterclasses on Zoom—a place to move together, breathe together, and stay accountable to the practice we all believe in.
No pressure. No perfection. Just presence. And a shared commitment to doing the work, not just knowing about it.
If you’d like to join me, I’d love to have you there.
👉 Leave your name and email here to receive a personal invitation.
Let’s not just talk about embodiment—let’s live it, together.
With heart,
Iva Mazzoleni
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Mother’s Day brings a certain kind of beauty online—
Photos of special moments, heartfelt words, stories of love and devotion.
It’s touching to witness - motherhood deserves every bit of that recognition.
But sitting with my daughters—and with my own mother—I found myself thinking about everything that doesn’t make it into a social media feed.
All the things we don’t talk about.
All the things we don’t know how to name.
And the invisible thread that connects motherhood to something far greater—something many of us live without ever realizing.
Motherhood isn’t just a role. It’s an energy.
It’s the invisible presence that says:
“You are safe here.”
“You can fall apart here.”
“You are still loved, even when you mess up.”
It’s not limited to biological mothers.
I’ve felt it from women who held space for me in my darkest hours.
From mentors, friends, sisters—who saw a version of me I hadn’t yet grown into.
They mothered me with faith. With presence. With love.
And yet—my truth? Becoming a mother didn’t come naturally to me.
I didn’t grow up dreaming of babies.
I didn’t trust I’d be enough.
It took falling in love with a stable, grounded man—my husband—to even consider becoming a mother.
And even then, I wrestled with fear, doubt, and a voice inside that whispered, “Are you really capable of this?”
But once my daughters arrived, they taught me.
They showed me how to soften. How to care. How to stretch far beyond what I thought I could hold.
And years later, it was one of them—my daughter—who would return that love in a way I never expected.
When I created IVA Pilates, it was one of the boldest, most devoted decisions of my life.
I walked straight into unknown territory.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I just knew I wanted to serve. I wanted to give back to the industry that had shaped me for two decades.
But no one prepared me for how much it would take.
The hours. The pressure. The emotional labor.
I gave all of myself to the vision. I was going hard, pushing forward, trying to make it work—pouring out energy with no pause, no breath.
And I almost gave up.
I truly did.
There was a moment where I felt depleted. Like I’d lost the soul of it.
Not because I didn’t believe in the mission—but because I had forgotten how to hold it with love.
And in that moment…
It was my daughter who stood beside me.
She reminded me who I was. She reminded me why I started.
She saw the mother energy in me even when I couldn’t.
She became my greatest cheerleader—not just as my daughter, but as a young woman who believed in the IVA vision with her whole heart.
Her belief became my anchor.
She trusted my devotion to creating a better future for Pilates teachers—and because of her, I didn’t quit.
She held space for me… the way I had once held space for her.
That’s what mother energy looks like.
It’s not always about age, gender, or roles.
It’s about faith, when someone forgets their own strength.
And it lives in all of us.
You birth ideas.
You raise clients.
You grow a vision from scratch.
You love something before the world sees its worth.
And you’ve likely never been told how hard it would be.
So let’s stop pretending it’s all flow and fulfillment.
Let’s talk about the tiredness. The doubt. The invisible labor of running a studio, a method, a brand, a dream.
Let’s name it.
Because only when we name it, can we nurture it.
It’s not just a strategy or a set of numbers. It’s a living extension of your devotion.
And like any living thing, it will mirror your energy back to you.
When I was cold, mechanical, and in hustle mode—IVA became a task.
When I slowed down, reconnected, loved it again—she came back to life.
We mother our work the way we were mothered. Or the way we wish we were mothered.
So here’s my gentle invitation:
Let it be imperfect.
Let it be resilient.
Let it be real.
If any part of this spoke to you—don’t let it stay as a fleeting thought.
Revisit your work this week, and mother it differently.
Ask deeper questions.
Let your rhythm guide you—not just your task list.
Give it the care it needs to grow—not just to keep up.
This work you’re doing—it’s not just business.
It’s something alive. And it responds to how you hold it.
You don’t have to be perfect.
You don’t have to have it all figured out.
But you do get to choose how you show up for it.
Just begin there.
With love,
Iva
Ask any Pilates teacher what they focus on when a client becomes pregnant, and the first answer is usually: modifications.
And yes—those matter. We need to know which movements to adjust, what’s safe in each trimester, and how to keep clients physically supported as their bodies change.
But after years of working with pregnant women—and mentoring teachers—I’ve realized something: focusing only on exercise adaptations misses the bigger picture.
Pregnancy is one of the most transformative journeys a person can experience. It’s physical, yes—but also emotional, psychological, and deeply personal. When we hold space for that whole experience, everything about our teaching changes.
For me, the foundation of excellent pregnancy Pilates comes down to three pillars. And when you integrate all three, you don’t just keep clients “safe”—you empower them to feel strong, supported, and connected at every stage.
It’s tempting to think of prenatal Pilates as “gentler Pilates.” But here’s the thing: our goal isn’t just to avoid harm—it’s to support a body that’s working overtime in every way.
During pregnancy, the body is constantly adapting. Posture shifts, ligaments soften, blood volume increases, and the core faces a completely new challenge. A one-dimensional focus—like just working the pelvic floor or only doing stretching—won’t meet those needs.
To really support your client, your sessions need to balance:
Mobility – keeping joints supple, easing discomfort in the back, hips, and chest, and preparing the body for the demands of labor.
Strength – especially in the glutes, back, and deep core, to support the pelvis and spine and reduce injury risk.
Cardiovascular health – to help manage energy levels, improve circulation, and maintain stamina as pregnancy progresses.
Why cardio? Pregnancy increases heart rate and blood volume significantly. Light to moderate cardio-based movement (yes, even within Pilates!) supports endurance and overall well-being.
Something to try now:
As you plan your next prenatal session, do a quick check:
Am I offering a balance of breathwork, strength, and mobility? Am I watching not just for “correct form,” but how she feels as she moves?
When you address the whole system, your client feels supported in every way that matters.
We all know how important cueing is in Pilates. But in pregnancy, cueing becomes something deeper. It’s not just about anatomy—it’s about connection.
A pregnant woman’s body is in constant communication—with herself, her baby, and her surroundings. She’s more attuned, more sensitive, and often more vulnerable. That means the words we choose, the tone we use, and the energy we bring into the room matter just as much as the movements we teach.
Think of it this way:
You’re not just guiding a body through exercises.
You’re guiding a whole person—and a new life growing with her.
The usual cues we might use—“engage your abs,” “pull your belly in”—can feel harsh or even disconnecting in this context. What she needs is language that supports, nurtures, and honors her experience.
For example: instead of saying, “Activate your core,”
try: “Let’s invite a feeling of lift from deep inside—as if your baby is being gently supported from below, cradled as you move.”
Or instead of, “Brace your belly,”
try: “Allow your belly to stay soft as you breathe in. On the exhale, feel a subtle rising—a sense of tone, not tension.”
These words do more than cue movement—they build trust, calm the nervous system, and remind her of her deep inner strength.
And it’s not just what you say—it’s how you say it. A calm tone. A grounded presence. The ability to meet her where she is, whether that’s strong and energized or tired and uncertain.
This kind of cueing might feel simple, but it has a profound impact. It helps her feel seen, supported, and connected—not just to her body, but to her experience of pregnancy itself.
In my experience, mastering this kind of language is one of the most transformative skills a teacher can develop. It’s not just technique—it’s care, and it changes everything.
Here’s the piece that gets overlooked most often—and, in my experience, the one that makes the biggest difference.
Pregnancy is a time of incredible change. Alongside the physical shifts, your client is navigating emotional highs and lows, identity changes, and often deep vulnerability. Even confident, experienced movers can feel shaken by how different their bodies feel.
This is where your presence as a teacher becomes just as important as your technical skill.
What your client needs isn’t just great cueing. She needs a space that feels safe, supportive, and free from judgment or pressure. She needs to know it’s okay to have good days and harder ones—that Pilates is a place where she can connect to her body in whatever state it’s in.
A practice to build in:
Start each session with an open-ended check-in:
“How are you feeling today—physically and emotionally?”
Really listen to the answer. Be ready to adapt your plan if needed. Sometimes the best session is one that simply holds space for breath, gentle movement, and presence.
In the course, we go deeper into the psychology of working with pregnant clients: how to build trust, navigate sensitive topics, and foster true mind-body integration during this transformational time.
If you’ve ever felt unsure—whether it’s about what to say, how to cue, or how to create the safest and most empowering experience for your pregnant clients—you’re not alone. This is deep, layered work. And when we bring presence, sensitivity, and real understanding to it, the impact is powerful.
When you build your teaching on these three pillars—safe, intelligent movement; language that resonates; and whole-person emotional support—you offer more than just a workout. You offer a space for strength, trust, and transformation.
At IVA' Pilates, we’re preparing something special: a focused session designed to give you real skills and confidence in working with pregnant clients. Together, we’ll cover:
If you want to be part of this, we’d love to have you on the waitlist.
With heart,
Iva 💛
Ask a group of Pilates teachers what the "core" is, and you’ll likely get a range of answers: the abs, the powerhouse, the deep stabilizers, the center. None of them are wrong. But none of them are quite complete, either.
After over two decades of teaching—and being a student with some of the most brilliant minds in the Pilates world—I’ve come to understand the core not as a set of muscles, but as a system. A living, breathing, adaptable system that reflects everything from how we breathe to how we feel, how we move to how we relate to gravity. And once you begin to teach with that understanding, everything changes.
Like most teachers, I started with a structural approach. I memorized anatomy charts, practiced cueing the transverse abdominis, and focused on alignment. That knowledge is essential—it gave me the map. But in real sessions, something was missing. My clients didn’t always respond to my "perfect" cues. Their bodies didn’t behave like the textbooks said they would. And frankly, neither did mine.
What I started to notice—first as a whisper, then as a truth I couldn’t ignore—was that the core wasn’t just something to engage. It was something to listen to.
The core, as I teach it now, is a dynamic relationship. It’s the interplay between your breath, spine, pelvis, fascia, and mental focus. It’s the part of you that holds you together and also allows you to expand. It regulates pressure, energy, and even emotion. It responds to your nervous system, not just your muscles.
One of the biggest shifts in how I teach came from understanding the role of breath. Not just as a cue for rhythm, but as a fundamental part of core activation and release. The diaphragm doesn’t work in isolation—it’s deeply linked with the pelvic floor, the transversus, and the spine. Breath is the bridge between tension and ease, strength and softness. When students hold their breath, they hold their core hostage. When they learn to breathe with awareness, everything changes.
If you only teach the core as a muscle group, you might get strength—but you miss out on power. You miss connection, resilience, fluidity.
I like to say: you don’t do core work. You drop into your core. You sense it. You work with it. That’s what changes how someone moves.
Over the years, I’ve taught hundreds of teachers who felt stuck. They knew how to cue the core. They could demo the moves. But something was off.
Often, they were trying to get students to "activate" something without truly understanding what they were asking for. Because when you cue from the outside—instead of sensing from the inside—you risk becoming robotic. And your students feel that. The magic of Pilates is not in reciting the perfect script. It’s in guiding someone back into their body.
When you understand the core as a system, you start to observe differently. You watch the breath. The way the ribs move. How someone meets the floor. You ask different questions. You give space. You invite discovery, not just correction.
And this isn’t just for advanced students. Beginners benefit even more when you teach this way. You’re not overwhelming them with information—they’re learning through sensation and experience.
Here’s the thing: working this way doesn’t just feel better. It works better.
Teaching the core as a system improves:
It also helps you, the teacher, stay inspired. Because you’re not repeating the same formula over and over. You’re engaged, curious, alive in your teaching.
You don’t need to overhaul everything. Here are a few ways to begin shifting toward a system-based approach:
These small shifts can completely change the way you teach—and the way your students feel in their bodies.
In our sessions inside the IVA Pilates Inner Circle, we explore this in depth. We layer learning from foundational work to more complex explorations. We look at how breath and fascia interact. We study how intent and awareness shape movement. We bring in not just anatomy, but experience.
We explore concepts like:
And we do it together, with teachers who are ready to go deeper—not just into the body, but into the art of teaching itself.
If you’re a Pilates teacher who’s been feeling that there’s more to core work than what you were taught in your first training—trust that feeling. There is.
You don’t need more complicated choreography. You need better questions, deeper listening, and a willingness to go beyond structure into system.
That’s where the transformation happens. That’s where teaching moves beyond routine—beyond repeating what you know—and becomes a space of ongoing discovery.
A way to stay engaged, curious, and alive in your work.
If the idea of teaching the core as a responsive, intelligent system speaks to you—there’s more to discover. From immersive sessions to a vibrant community of like-minded teachers, the IVA Pilates Method offers a path to keep evolving your practice.
Send us a message at hello@ivapilates.com to learn more about the Core Immersion replay or how the IVA' Inner Circle could support your growth.
We’d love to connect and tell you more.
Do you ever wonder why some clients stick around for years, while others drift away after a few sessions?
It’s easy to think it comes down to how well we cue, how fast we get the results, or how many certifications we’ve collected. But what if the real answer is something deeper—something that isn’t found in any manual or training module?
This was the heart of our recent Inner Circle mastermind session, Bridge the Gap, where we explored a part of our teaching that often goes unspoken: how to connect not just with the client’s body, but with the person.
Because let’s be honest—we’re not just working with bodies. We’re working with people. And people are complicated. Beautiful, but complicated.
That’s where the concept of the 6 Human Needs comes in. When I discovered this framework (based on Tony Robbins' model) years ago, it completely changed how I saw my clients—and myself.
So today, I want to share some of what we explored together in that session. Not as a checklist. Not as a theory. But as a door to go deeper in your work.
We all share six core needs that drive everything we do:
Every single client who walks into your studio is trying to meet one—or several—of these needs. And so are you.
The magic happens when you begin to see it. Not judge. Not fix. Just notice. And respond with presence.
Let me share a few little stories—composites of real moments over the years—that might help you recognize these needs in action:
Certainty – Lisa comes every Tuesday at 10:00 sharp. She always wants to know what we’ll do in class before we begin. If I change the order of exercises, she looks uneasy. Lisa isn’t boring or rigid. She’s seeking certainty. Her life outside is unpredictable—an aging parent, an unstable job. In the studio, she wants to feel grounded. My consistency is her anchor.
Variety – Then there’s Marco. He shows up smiling but gets restless fast. If we repeat the same sequence twice in a row, he checks out. When I mix in something unexpected—a new prop, a creative visual cue—he lights up. Variety feeds his energy. He’s not flaky. He just thrives on stimulation.
Significance – Claire once told me, "I feel like this is the only place where someone actually sees me." She shows up early, loves praise, and often volunteers stories about her life. She’s not seeking attention—she’s seeking significance. When I remember something she shared last week, or acknowledge her progress, she softens. She feels valued.
Love & Connection – Tom barely speaks during class, but he always lingers after, asking how I’m doing or offering to help put equipment away. He's not just being polite. He’s looking for connection. It’s not about the exercise—it’s about being part of something.
Growth – Meet Alina. She wants to understand why every movement matters. She journals after class. She’s always asking questions. For her, Pilates is a journey of self-mastery. Progress isn’t just physical—it’s growth. If I can guide her through small evolutions, she’s deeply fulfilled.
Contribution – And then there's Jill, who always checks in on other clients. She brings snacks for the group, volunteers to demo. She lights up when she can help. Contribution fuels her spirit. Giving makes her feel alive.
When you start to see clients through this lens, things shift. Resistance becomes information. Flaky behavior becomes a clue. Loyalty starts to make more sense.
Most teacher trainings focus on alignment, anatomy, and control. And yes, those things matter. We should be good at our craft. We should know how to support a spine, guide a breath, and adapt a movement.
But that’s not the whole story.
Imagine this: A client comes in late, flustered, making excuses. You could get annoyed. Or... you could see a human being whose need for certainty is out of balance. Maybe her life feels chaotic. Your class might be the one place she can breathe.
Or another client resists feedback. Every time you correct something, they tense up. It’s not that they don’t want to improve—it’s that their need for significance might be unmet. Being told what to do might feel like being made small.
See how it shifts?
This isn’t about playing therapist. It’s about being human.
During the mastermind, we also turned the lens inward. Because guess what? These needs live in you, too.
There’s no right or wrong here. But knowing your own patterns helps you show up with more awareness—and less reactivity.
It also helps you recognize when your needs are clashing with your client’s. (Yep, it happens. All the time.)
This is the part I wish more teachers talked about.
We spend so much time trying to stand out by perfecting our technique or adding more to our toolbox. But your clients aren’t looking for the best Pilates technician.
They’re looking for someone who gets them. Someone who sees beyond the body. Someone who can hold space for who they are and who they’re becoming.
That’s what makes you irreplaceable.
Not fancy flows. Not peak poses. But presence.
If this speaks to you, here are a few ways to start applying it in your teaching:
Pilates can sometimes feel like a solo journey. Especially if you’re freelancing or running your own space. But I promise—you’re not the only one thinking about this.
Inside our Inner Circle, these are the conversations we live for. We go deep. We get personal. We explore the messy, beautiful parts of what it means to teach people, not just bodies.
So if any part of this stirred something in you, stay with it. Explore it. Talk about it.
If you're a teacher who knows that a fulfilling and successful practice takes more than good technique—if you're looking for more in your work, in your life, and in your impact—maybe the Inner Circle is the place for you.
And if you want to dive deeper into this topic and actually learn how to apply the 6 Human Needs framework in your sessions, you can get one-time access to the full 4-hour Inner Circle mastermind replay.
We don’t offer replays often—but this one is different.
You’ll walk away with real tools, real examples, and a new level of insight into why your clients show up the way they do—and how you can meet them where they are, without losing yourself in the process.
Because the more you connect with the human needs—your own and your clients’—the more powerful your teaching becomes.
Not just in the way it looks. But in the way it feels.
And in the end, that’s what people remember.
With love,
Iva
