Rooted in Reverence
grief, gratitude, and the ground beneath us
They say grief is love with nowhere to go. This sentiment, attributed to Jamie Anderson, captures something so essential about the emotional architecture of grief.
Sitting with this idea a bit more, maybe it’s not that the love has nowhere to go — maybe it’s that the form it once moved through is no longer there.
The person, the place, the role — gone or changed — and so the love floods the space, like water searching for shape. Grief could then be the echo of love trying to reorient itself. Trying to find a new way in, a new way out.
Maybe grief is love learning a new way to stay.
On Sunday, May 18, we gathered for our final offering inside the walls of the Little Yoga Studio, Rooted in Reverence - a ritual practice to honor the closing of the Little Yoga Studio. Let’s grieve, remember, celebrate and give thanks. An offering of devotion, a bow to all that has been, a blessing for what’s to become.
It was soft and fierce, sad and lovely, full of grief and gratitude. The kind of class where breath hangs heavy with meaning. Where silence says more than words ever could.
It felt like a ceremony, a prayer, a goodbye — and a beginning.
There was so much emotion in the room — palpable, collective, and alive. I could feel it in the way people moved. I could hear it in their breath, in the echo of tears that moved through the room like a quiet tide - seen, felt, shared.
The embraces afterward were long and sweet, full of emotion and shared memories. Everyone, quietly lingering in the lobby like they weren’t quite ready to leave. And maybe they weren’t. Maybe I wasn’t either.
One student said, “The Little has been such a meaningful sanctuary for me over the past ten years and it’s remained one of my favorite places to ground myself, reconnect, and breathe. I’ve always deeply appreciated the welcoming, accessible energy you cultivated in that space. The sense of community, the intention behind each class, and the incredible teachers you brought together all made it feel like more than just a studio—it truly felt like home. “
Another said, “Only great memories remain. You were a truly inspiring teacher, and you were the one who initiated me into what practice really means. You taught me that practice is not just about movement—it's about discipline, integrity, and the commitment to carve out time for myself. That lesson is now a part of me, and I will always be grateful. You held onto the essence and tradition of yoga, yet your classes always felt relaxed, fresh, and modern. That beautiful balance is rare, and it made your studio such a special place.”
These reflections, echoed in so many forms throughout the day, brought me to tears. Because that has always been the deepest intention behind this work — not just to teach yoga, but to create a space where people feel like they belong.
A place where nothing has to be earned. Where presence is enough.
What struck me most was how many people felt that. Not just said it, but lived it, returned to it, were changed by it. That sense of belonging — of being welcomed as you are — is something I came to slowly in my own life. It wasn’t always easy to find. It took years of searching, shedding, and learning how to be in community. So to hear that The Little felt like home for so many… it humbles me. (I’ll be sharing more about that soon — about what it means to build belonging from the inside out, and how our deepest intentions often come from the very wounds we’ve worked to heal.)
And as I took it all in — the stories, the memories, the quiet outpouring of love — I began to feel something inside me shift. A turning toward something truer.
The truth is, over the last 14 years of running the studio, I’ve often had to hold myself in a certain way. To stay somewhat neutral. To prioritize the container over my own expression. There’s a beautiful discipline in that — a kind of sacred stewardship — but there’s also a cost. There are parts of my voice I’ve kept quiet. Parts of my teaching I’ve softened or sidestepped in service of the collective.
And now — in this liminal moment, in this great unbuilding — I feel the invitation to step more radically into my Self.
To speak more freely.
To teach more boldly.
To write from the marrow.
This next chapter isn’t just about continuing the work — it’s about letting it evolve alongside me. Letting my voice deepen. Letting the mystery be named. Letting the edges show.
Even as we unbuild the studio, something else is being built — something less tied to walls and more tied to essence. Something rooted in reverence, yes — but also in honesty, insight, and soulful risk.
Thank you for walking this path with me. For holding space, for showing up, for trusting the unknown right alongside me. The next iteration of The Little Yoga Studio is already whispering. And I’m listening closely.
The work continues — just in new forms, new containers:
Online classes begin June 8 — five days a week, live and virtual, from my home to yours. Embodied Eight Teacher Training returns July 8 — a deep dive into the eight-limbed path and personal transformation. Soul Study — my newly reimagined 1:1 program — opens this summer for those ready to explore their inner world with honesty, depth, and devotion.
More soon. The website is in transition, just like everything else right now — evolving as I continue the work of unbuilding the studio and rebuilding the studio within. It should be updated by early next week with all the details about what’s to come.
Thank you for being here.
With Love,
Kelly Elle Kenworthy