Closing West Seattle-how did we get here?

Dora
Jan 31, 2022
3 min read

Updated: Oct 26

As a small business owner, I feel it is important to share our point of view, as I feel that our struggles are quite overlooked in this tech-heavy environment.

A Letter from Dora

I’ll keep this short and sweet because no one likes to read a long, sad story. And honestly, as hard as these years were — and as deep as the pain runs — they also brought incredible meaning: friendships, connections that go beyond words, and moments of pure joy. But yes, they were also fatiguing and demanding.

We all know the broader story. The pandemic changed everything.

Large corporations began producing online fitness replacements. With no brick-and-mortar overhead and massive advertising budgets, they could offer memberships at a fraction of the cost and reach millions.
Teachers began offering free classes on social media. It came from a good place, but it also unintentionally hurt the small studios that had supported their work for years.
Many teachers branched out to work independently — a natural reaction to uncertainty — but again, this further impacted the studios.

Unlike restaurants, the fitness industry had no lobby, so there were no major grants or support. Seattle offered small grants, but with a monthly overhead of $15,000, the $9,000 I received in 2020 barely made a dent. And while I am female, an immigrant, and English is my second language, I didn’t qualify as a “minority” for the 2021 grants that could have helped.

Then came 2021 — and the staffing crisis. Half of our teachers were stuck on the other side of the bridge. Others moved away. Some needed to care for kids or manage unpredictable schedules. I went from 28 teachers in 2019 to just 3–4 regularly on schedule by 2022.

At that point, after two years of bleeding capital, it became clear that capitalism doesn’t pause for compassion. As I struggled to keep the doors open, others saw opportunity — and new studios opened. That’s the nature of business, but it broke my heart. Yoga was never just business to me; it was a community and a family. Watching it fall apart was painful beyond words.

I realized I had to make a choice. For me, yoga has always been a mindful, intellectually grounded, traditional practice — not a trendy workout. That’s not the easiest path to sustain financially, but it’s the only one that feels true. I could have rebuilt with new teachers, but my heart was exhausted. It was time to focus on Issaquah, where a new community was blossoming around mindfulness-based yoga.

And then came another challenge — the homeless crisis in West Seattle. We faced harassment and daily sanitation issues around the studio. That, finally, sealed the decision.

So, please know this was not made lightly. It’s been shatteringly painful. West Seattle has been my second home. Spira wasn’t just a place to sweat — it was a refuge for the heart.

Over 11 years, more than 300 students completed Spira’s 200-Hour Mindfulness and Yoga Journey, and over 10,000 students passed through our doors. Together, we raised over $50,000 for charitable causes — supporting fellow yogis through illness and hardship, helping neighbors recover from tragedy, and donating to organizations like the Red Cross.

Three couples found love and marriage here. Many found healing — through infertility, divorce, grief, and career stress. Again and again, students have told me, “Spira is our church.” I would never dare use that word myself, but hearing it from so many of you fills me with gratitude.

So yes, this goodbye is painful — but Spira is not gone. It lives on in Issaquah and online. I will continue to teach yoga every day and offer: