Your go-to source for weekly inspiration in yoga class planning. Each week, I provide thoughtfully crafted sequences, themes, and playlists to help yoga teachers create engaging and dynamic classes. Designed to bring fresh energy and creativity to both you and your students, Nicos Flow’s will inspire you to step confidently into every class you teach.
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Short Creative Sequence
This week’s short creative sequence is a gentle flow to warm up the body. In my previous videos, I have only been walking you through one side but this week I decided to do both. So, if you want 8 minutes of gentle movement - here you go!
I originally began designing these flows with yoga teachers in mind, offering sequences they could bring into their classes. But my hope extends beyond teachers—I want to inspire all yoga practitioners to explore new ways of moving their bodies! These flows are an invitation to cultivate creativity and curiosity on the mat, gradually training your body to move in fresh, unique ways—without relying on a video for guidance.
Playlist
Last week, I had the joy of spending time with one of my best friends from college, who now lives in Santiago with her Chilean husband. She’s the kind of friend who brings light into my life no matter how heavy my heart feels—and last week, my heart was feeling quite heavy. But being with her, her husband, and another dear college friend who joined me, reminded me of an important truth: we can hold sadness and still feel the warmth of the sun on our faces. We can cry our eyes out and still feel the love of those around us. We can have a broken heart and even food poisoning, and yet still find a way to dance in the sand.
That’s the vibe behind this playlist—windows down, sun shining, wind in your hair, music turned all the way up, laughing loudly… even when life feels heavy. It’s about finding joy and lightness in the cracks, letting the music carry you through the weight, and remembering that we are capable of feeling it all.
Reading
Today, I arrive Denver, Colorado, after a month of soaking up the sun in Central and South America. As I prepared to return, the words "impending doom" kept echoing in my mind. The thought of coming back to routine, to the known, to the ordinary, to the dark and cold of winter—and to a place that holds the weight of hurt and reminders of what has been lost—felt overwhelming. But just before I left, I read this poem in my friend’s apartment, and it brought me back to the beauty within it all. It reminded me that even in the midst of darkness and loss, there is grace and meaning to be found.
Shoveling Snow with Buddha In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok
you would never see him doing such a thing,
tossing the dry snow over a mountain
of his bare, round shoulder,
his hair tied in a knot,
a model of concentration.
Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
for what he does, or does not do.
Even the season is wrong for him.
In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
Is this not implied by his serene expression,
that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?
But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.
This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.
He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.
All morning long we work side by side,
me with my commentary
and he inside his generous pocket of silence,
until the hour is nearly noon
and the snow is piled high all around us;
then, I hear him speak.
After this, he asks,
can we go inside and play cards?
Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
while you shuffle the deck,
and our boots stand dripping by the door.
Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
and leaning for a moment on his shovel
before he drives the thin blade again
deep into the glittering white snow.
The poem Shoveling Snow with Buddha by Billy Collins is a reflection on mindfulness, presence, and finding meaning in the mundane. It captures the image of Buddha, a symbol of enlightenment and serenity, engaging in a simple, ordinary task: shoveling snow. The juxtaposition of this spiritual figure with such a humble activity invites us to consider how mindfulness can transform even the most routine actions into acts of meditation and connection.
After reading it, I was suddenly shifted into the excitement of the moving meditation. The joy in walking my dog along the same streets and saying hi to familiar people. I will be in Bozeman soon and have the vision of the sweet snow in my heart rather than impending doom.
How to theme a yoga class from this reading:
“In the poem, even the simplest task becomes sacred when approached with intention and attention. As you move through your practice, I invite you to treat each breath, each transition, and each pose as an opportunity to be fully present. Like shoveling snow, the act of yoga isn’t about the result—it’s about the process, the awareness, and the calm we cultivate along the way.”