Sometimes, I make good business decisions - like when I prioritize updating my website, advertising my events on Instagram, and writing my Substack posts.
Other times, I do exactly what I encourage my students and mentees not to do: I set my prices too low, I prioritize supporting students over supporting myself, I offer to sub instead of catching up on the boring administrative tasks that I need to catch up on.
And then there are other times when I do my best to make good and smart decisions, but things just don’t go according to plan: signups are lower than I’d budgeted for; hidden or unexpected costs pop up, people cancel their registrations.
My upcoming retreat is one of these times.
Sure, there is a strong case to be made that I set my prices too low to begin with, but also, if I had gotten the same number of signups as I did last year (or even almost as many), it would have worked out fine. I wouldn’t have made a lot of money, but I would have made enough: about $3000. But as it stands now, with less than half the number of people I budgeted for, I will be losing money: about $3000.
Last month, I started to prepare myself for the fact that this might happen. I did the math again and realized that if I were to cancel the retreat at that point, I would lose $3000 (since it was too late to get a full refund from the retreat center). I figured it was worth risking it, since the most I would lose if I didn’t get any more signups was also $3000. Plus, I thought, there was still time! I was feeling confident that at least a few more people would sign up…
And now here we are, one month later, still with the same number of signups, with registration closing on Tuesday.
I know that this is what running any business typically involves: taking risks, sometimes making money, and sometimes, losing. I don’t love it, but I agree to it every time I decide to try something that isn’t guaranteed (which is, kind of unfortunately, every single event I choose to offer.)
But I also can’t help but wonder: Is this how running a business has to be? Does it always have to be so risky? So isolating? What would happen if I didn’t try to do it all myself? What if I allowed myself to call upon my community, even more directly, and to ask for their help when I needed it?
It feels scary, but I’m pretty sure that’s only because I was raised in a culture that promotes capitalism and competition. In a society that celebrates the “success of the individual,” it is uncomfortable to admit that I actually can’t do it myself.
So here’s my big, bold, and humble ask:
Will you help me not lose $3000 dollars on this retreat?
If the answer is yes, here are a few specific ways you could do it:
If you’ve been thinking about coming on the retreat, sign up by Tuesday, Sept 10 (because that’s when the retreat center and caterer need the final headcount).
If you know anyone who would like to go but can’t afford it, donate some money to them so they can sign up by Tuesday. (We had a student come to Mexico this way last February - it was extremely heartwarming, and they had the best time! Truly a gift that keeps on giving.)
If you can’t come on the retreat/ don’t know anyone who can, consider donating any amount to my Venmo. If you like structure and specificity: $35 is the approximate cost of one yoga session; $210 is the cost of food for one person for the weekend; $700 (almost) covers the cost of one student’s lodging for the weekend.
Become a paid subscriber to this very Substack, and then share your favorite post with a friend. Even though this might not feel like you’re directly supporting the retreat, you’d be supporting me, doing what I’m already doing for (almost) free. If you choose this, you could pay $5/ month (which is like paying for the first ~20 min of one drop-in class each month), $50/ year (which is like taking one 2-hr workshop with me per year), or $100/ year (which is like taking two 2-hr workshops per year).*
I also want to pause here and be clear: I love, love, love my work. I am excited to lead this retreat, even if I lose money. I have accepted that this will probably happen, and I am at peace with it.
Also, I recognize that I cannot keep doing this work indefinitely if the work does not support me, financially. (This is a huge part of the reason I am planning to go back to grad school next fall - so that I can make a better, more predictable income.)
So I hope you can feel that I am asking for your support here, not out of desperation or frustration, but out of curiosity and hope: What would happen if I asked for help when I needed it? Probably the worst thing is that I get a few unsubscribes, and maybe a few people grumbling about money having no place in yoga. That’s fine. I’ll still be here.
As always, I love hearing from you. Especially if you’re a small business owner, or have some thoughts around cultivating community and collaboration in an individualistic culture, I’m all ears. In the meantime, I’ll be thinking, planning, feeling, and writing…
Take good care of yourselves y’all, and each other.
Love,
Abby
*And just as a fun little math equation: If all 674 people on this list subscribed at $50/ year, I’d make ~$23K per year (after taxes) from Substack alone… which would be, like… pretty cool! I’m pretty sure that won’t happen, but I’m also very willing to be proven wrong. ;)
Abby, If I lived closer, I would love to retreat w you. I know you support other small and local businesses, and give much of your heart and time to yours. I will contribute to your fun weekend and hope everyone there has a fine and memorable time!