Pure Soul Yoga School Student Stories: In Their Own Words

Every season, students arrive at our school in Rishikesh carrying a question they can't quite name — and some of them, afterwards, sit down and write about what happened. This page collects those reflections. They are real pieces of writing from Pure Soul Yoga School students and graduates, shared with the school and published here with only light edits: we have removed references to specific calendar years, trimmed a few lines for length, and changed nothing else. No names have been added, no details invented, no praise polished in. These are personal experiences, not medical advice — and not marketing copy either.

If you want to see the daily rhythm these stories grew out of, our own account of a day in the life at Pure Soul Yoga School is the companion piece. This page belongs to the students.

The Importance of Breath

One graduate arrived at Ashtanga after a lifetime of struggling to breathe. If her subject calls to you, our practical guide to pranayama breathing techniques walks through the methods she describes.

Inhale…

I can still picture the radiant, sun-kissed Californian woman who led a Vinyasa class during a trip I took to Indonesia years ago. She leaned so far into it that she practically sighed the words "inhale" and "exhale" for every single breath we took. At the time it struck me as wildly overdone — why lavish that much attention on something the body already handles on its own?

I had no idea what was coming.

As a child I was almost always a little breathless. It felt as though some part of my windpipe were partly closed off, keeping me from ever filling my lungs all the way. Whenever I exerted myself, my body seemed to simply forget to breathe, so running, playing field hockey, or dancing meant stopping again and again before I tipped into hyperventilation. After a string of hospital tests, doctors put me on several asthma medications — even though my lungs looked healthy and my lung capacity was completely normal. As you'd guess, none of it changed a thing.

Only years later did another doctor really study the way I breathed. She saw that my breath sat far too high in my body and that my belly was pulling inward on the inhale and pushing outward on the exhale — the exact reverse of what should happen. Through a series of exercises, she taught me to notice my own breath, gradually drawing it lower and restoring it to a healthy, natural rhythm. It's a strange thing to admit: something we're meant to do purely by instinct — one of the very first acts of a newborn — was, for me, genuinely difficult to do in a relaxed and easy way.

My breathing improved, but stress still left me feeling starved of air. My breath would seem to jam up in my chest, and I'd strain to stretch it deeper by force, hauling on my neck and chest muscles. Predictably, forcing it accomplished nothing — it only fed more tension into my body.

One autumn, after years of dabbling in different styles of yoga, I found Ashtanga Vinyasa. Here every inhale and exhale was not only counted — which was new to me — but also shaped by a breathing technique called Ujjayi. By gently narrowing the glottis, you create a soft hissing sound that evens out the breath, settles the nervous system, warms the body and keeps the mind anchored. There was nowhere to hide and no room to drift; there was only the inhale, the exhale and the movement that followed. For me that was an enormous release.

And when you really consider it, breath shapes so much of our lives. Look at how it colours our language: we breathe a sigh of relief when we learn we've passed an important exam, we hold our breath on the edge of our seats during a frightening film, and the breath is knocked clean out of us when we suddenly run into the person we quietly have a crush on. Life's moments move our breath without our ever noticing.

But what if the reverse were possible — what if we could use the breath to shape the quality of our lives? What if it could keep us steady and even in hard moments, and quiet the restless monkey mind that is forever tempting and distracting us? It can.

By growing more familiar with how we breathe, we can start to feel its influence and even use the breath to improve how well and how long we live. Breath then becomes a way to turn attention inward, where we can notice — and make room for — the small ripples moving across the surface of who we are. For me, both Ashtanga yoga and Pranayama have made all the difference in waking up to this. At last I can breathe freely.

…and exhale…

— a graduate

Baddha Konasana: Moments of Surrender

A student's love letter to one posture — and the poem that followed it. If you'd like the anatomy behind her favourite shape, see our guide to Baddha Konasana, the butterfly pose.

People have called me a butterfly my whole life — impossible to pin down, always destined to drift off on her own way, whatever happens.

I first met Baddha Konasana as the Butterfly pose, and I've loved it from the very first moment. I began stiff, with a back that wouldn't fold even a hair's breadth forward. Yet the sensation of opening my hips in that shape was extraordinary — an invitation to simply let go and be. When my back was tight, I'd round my spine and settle into the posture for at least five minutes, just breathing and enjoying it.

Two years into practice I discovered Ashtanga, and lucky for me Baddha Konasana was still in the sequence — though now I could only hold it for five breaths and had to keep my spine straight. It opened up a whole new dimension of the asana. Reaching forward, I couldn't melt into it the way I used to, but I felt far more connected to my body as a whole.

My teacher's adjustments in the butterfly made the pose feel intensely alive. In every Mysore class, I'd linger in Baddha Konasana just to be adjusted. The last time I received an adjustment, I asked to go deeper still — until finally I heard the words: there is no more.

So Baddha Konasana became my first complete posture in the primary series of Ashtanga — a very special asana for me, from many angles.

Ashtanga…
My practice. My devotion.
Every time I step onto my mat,
a fresh journey opens on my path.
I could never have imagined that moving the body
could reach so intensely deep —
a surreal reality carrying lessons to keep.
The mind is powerful, and on some days
it fills me with doubt.
Alone in my room
my laziness shouts.
But I simply watch and practise anyway,
knowing the brightness that follows
throughout the whole day.
The practice is at its finest when the mind disappears.
Only drishti and breath remain,
everything blurs and fades away.
Some strong energy takes over.
Sometimes it hardly feels like the practitioner is me…
The body turns so light,
as if it's off on its own flight.
Yes, Ashtanga.
Something magical that arrived in my life not long ago — I feel so grateful.
Happy and alive!

— a graduate

What the Hell Am I Doing Here?

A former corporate executive on the question that opened her training — and where it led her.

That was the very first question put to us on day one of the Yoga Teacher Training Certification (YTTC) course. It landed hard and set off others inside me: Who am I? Am I the corporate executive who just walked away from her job, a mother, a daughter, a partner? These were the questions circling my mind at the start of the course — and exactly the ones we were encouraged to explore throughout the program.

I chose the YTTC because I'd wanted to do it for ages and had never found the time. Now that I finally had it, this was the first thing I put in my calendar. I settled on Pure Soul Yoga School in Rishikesh through a lot of research and a good deal of intuition, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.

Coming to Rishikesh, what I wanted most was distance from the events of my life and time to reflect. I was after clarity and some help through a major transformation. What I found instead were wonderful teachers and yogis devoted entirely to us, the students.

The rigorous, boot-camp schedule — asana classes beginning at 6:30 a.m. and the day closing with meditation at 9 p.m. — left little room for overthinking. We were constantly reminded to stay in the moment: "if you eat, eat; if you sleep, sleep — that is what a yogi does," the founder of the school used to say. He also pointed out that Nike's "just do it" doesn't apply to yoga; we need to be mindful and aware of mind, body and breath in everything we do.

So, somewhere between struggling through asana and getting dizzy in pranayama, I stumbled on my favourite subjects — yoga philosophy and yoga nidra. The philosophy sessions felt close to home. They wrestled with the very questions humanity, and I, have long chewed on: What is happiness? What is the mind? How do you still the monkey mind? Through lively stories, references to the Kung Fu Panda films and readings from the Yoga Sutras, I was swept into the world of yoga. There I came to understand that "Ashtanga" means the eight limbs of yoga — eight steps toward enlightenment — and that asana, the one part most of the Western world knows, is only a single limb of the eight.

It was a relief to learn that I'm not doomed if I can't wrap my legs behind my head. It's all about practice and awareness of NOW. In truth, all the asana, meditation and pranayama exist to quiet the mind and ultimately to move beyond it. After day four — when I actually wanted to quit and struck a bargain with myself to go with the flow and simply give my best — I began to enjoy the morning practice, celebrating every small win and every extra inch of stretch.

Another thing the month-long program stressed was to "mind our own business," as one teacher liked to say. In other words, yoga is about self-awareness and inner discovery. It's a good reminder, because in daily life we're so often turned outward, fixated on what everyone else is saying or doing.

And what about all my thinking? I came here to work out what's next in my life. Well, I learned that real thinking arrives only when the mind grows quiet. I was also reminded that everything comes in its own time and order — no need to fret; the right things will arrive at the right moment. So for now I'm savouring the break, exploring new ways to enrich my life and the lives around me. I'm passionate about inspiring and motivating people and helping them reach their fullest potential.

Through this training, I received a toolkit for rediscovering myself, my own worth and my appreciation for the universe and life force. I can't wait to return and spend more time in this oasis of spirit, where chanting, ashrams and bells seem to dissolve time and space.

— a graduate

A Student's Review of Pure Soul Yoga School

Sent to us after a 200-hour yoga teacher training in Rishikesh, with permission to share.

I attended the 200-hour Yoga Teacher Training Course at Pure Soul Yoga School over the month of November in Rishikesh, India. There are many countries and cities where you can take a TTC, but after my experience, I couldn't recommend Rishikesh more. The city has a soul you feel the moment you arrive, and it keeps your energy up right to the end. Whether you're exploring the markets, resting by the Ganga, or visiting the many ashrams, Rishikesh carries a unique spirituality that's perfect for practice.

The course is very intense, teaching and strengthening your work on the primary series, and the knowledge of adjustments is second to none. The school surrounds its students with wonderful teachers covering areas of yoga beyond asana — philosophy, pranayama, yoga nidra — which affected me as deeply as the work on the mat. I couldn't recommend Pure Soul Yoga School and Rishikesh more; it was a truly transformative experience.

— a 200-hour teacher training graduate

Advice from the Pure Soul Family

Alongside their stories, past students, volunteers, and teachers have left words of advice for the people who come after them. One of them says nearly everything we would want a new graduate to hear:

A tip from our teaching hall: "Always do your practice. Remember that we are all forever students. Practise the yamas and niyamas, and always keep compassion. Practise, practise — all is coming." — shared by a member of the Pure Soul community

Frequently Asked Questions

Are these stories really written by students? Yes. Every piece on this page was written by a Pure Soul Yoga School student or graduate and shared with the school. Our edits were limited to removing references to specific calendar years, trimming a few lines for length, and adding the short introductions between pieces. Nothing was rewritten, added, or invented — and the stories are unattributed because we would rather leave a name off than put one on that the writer didn't sign.

Which courses did these students take? The writers here trained at our school in Rishikesh — one names the 200-hour yoga teacher training specifically, and several practised Ashtanga Vinyasa with us. Pure Soul Yoga School is a Yoga Alliance–registered school (RYS 200, 300 & 500), and every course runs with a maximum of 20 students per batch.

Can I ask questions before I enrol? Please do — most of our students write to us several times before deciding. Send anything you're wondering about through our contact page or on WhatsApp, and a teacher (not a sales team) will answer. You can also read what graduates say publicly: we hold a 4.9-star average from 434 reviews.

Do students really change this much during a training? We won't promise transformation — no honest school can. These stories simply show what students consistently report: a month of daily practice, philosophy, pranayama and community tends to surface things, and what you do with that is yours.

Write Your Own Chapter

Every one of these stories started the same way: someone unsure, reading about a school in Rishikesh, deciding to come anyway. If that's where you are, explore our courses to find the training that fits your stage of practice, or meet the school and teachers behind the voices on this page. And if a question is holding you back, ask us on WhatsApp — we would rather answer it honestly than have you wonder.

A note from the author: I have read hundreds of student reflections over the years of running this school, and they still teach me more about our courses than any curriculum document. We publish them lightly edited and unpolished on purpose — the rough edges are the proof. — Nanda Kumaraa (Gangesha Adi)