Being Seen

Why being in the room still matters

Trust me … I’ve played a doctor on tv (more than once!)

Audio version for ears that wanna hear and eyes that wanna rest:

How many of you remember the 1997 documentary Hands on a Hardbody?

I’m genuinely curious.

It came to mind this morning as I sat down to write about being in the room where it happen(s). And yes—notice how quickly I’m pulled toward the drama side of this Dramatic Yogi life. (Occupational hazard.)

Here’s why it stuck with me.

Hands on a Hardbody wasn’t compelling because of the truck.

It was compelling because people were watching people endure something together, in real time. No edits. No fast-forward. No algorithm deciding what mattered next.

Witnessing mattered.

Which brings me to what I’m actually trying to talk about: the way we use technology—specifically video platforms like YouTube or Zoom—to build and maintain healthy habits, and why it matters that these tools don’t fully replace being in a room with other humans.

When I first began teaching—and this was long before my yoga teacher training—I was a certified personal trainer at my local YMCA. This was the late 90s, when the only at‑home workout options were Tae Bo, Buns of Steel, Sweatin’ to the Oldies and of course the legend herself: Jane Fonda. Fast forward to today and there are so many online options I couldn’t begin to name them all.

Since returning to teaching last year, I’ve been asked repeatedly: “Why should I spend the time and money to come to one of your classes when I can just watch a class on YouTube?” It’s a fair question. And honestly, one I didn’t have a fully formed answer for until last week.

After class, I was chatting with a student I hadn’t taught in years. She shared how grateful she was for the hands‑on adjustments and verbal cues I offered her—things that were specific to her body on that day. That conversation clarified something for me.

Here is one of the primary reasons it matters to get your buns (of steel or otherwise) into spaces where you practice alongside other people:

You are being seen.

And if you’re in a studio—or any community space—where the commitment is truly to the students, being seen is only the beginning. From there, you have opportunities to talk with your teacher. To name what’s happening in your body. To share what’s unfolding in your life, and in the emotional landscape you’re moving through.

All of that shows up in your body.

Week to week. Month to month. Year after year.

A video can guide you through shapes. It cannot notice that you’re holding your breath. It won’t see that your right shoulder has been whispering all class. It won’t pull you aside afterward and say, “Hey—something’s shifted. Let’s talk about it.”

Now, I understand the economics of this conversation. Deeply. I’ve been a self‑employed actor and teacher for almost thirty years. I know the reality of asking: Where’s the best deal? Is there a coupon? A Groupon? A BOGO for this?

And when studios offer discounts, memberships, or accessible pricing, those choices absolutely help make in‑person classes more available. For me, this always leads to an internal conversation about spending what I can now to avoid spending what I might be forced to spend later—after injury, burnout, or disconnection has taken hold. (There’s an entire essay here about what the wellness world often calls The Math of Prevention vs. Crisis that I’m working on to share with you soon.)

Online classes are incredible tools. I use them too. They can help you keep promises to yourself.

But community is where those promises are witnessed.

So this is my invitation: this week, put your body somewhere it can be seen. A yoga class. A dance class. A strength class. A church basement. A community center. Any room where a real human knows your name and notices how you move on that particular day.

You don’t have to give up the screen.

Just don’t let it replace the room.

Looking forward to seeing you in a class soon.