Interview with Carola della Croce for Cyclic Power by Iara Vilardebo
How did you become an Ashtanga Yoga teacher?
I never envisioned yoga becoming such a central part of my life. I was content working as a freelance graphic designer, but the constant stress of the job and finishing my career simultaneously pushed me to seek something more fulfilling. I wasn’t looking to change careers; I just needed a way to cope with the anxiety and isolation that freelancing often brings.
I started practicing to find a way to pause in my day. I had to reevaluate many aspects of my life, I was in a painful, sorrowful place and deeply exhausted by how I was living. I strongly believe now, from my experience, that yoga enters your life through a deep wound—a pain that finally pushes you to change.
Around that time, I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism, which made me realized how stress can disrupt your body to the point of no repair. That diagnosis was my body’s way of telling me, ‘Enough.’ I’d always been more focused on mental activities, ignoring my body until it finally gave out.
I also decided to quit smoking which was the first turning point. Something I thought defined me and would never change— suddenly, not everything about me was set in stone; I realized I was capable of change. This was a revelation that yoga continued to reinforce. It taught me that not everything can be solved through sheer effort. I had to let the practice work on me, be patient, let go, trust in the process without over-fixating on results.
Sharing this practice that saved my life brings me immense joy. It’s privilege to be able to hold space for others’ tranformation.
How does your yoga practice help you connect with your femininity?
My practice serves as a tool for self-inquiry. It helps me tune into my body, feel and observe where I am, recognize what serves me and what doesn’t. It pulls me out of my mind and the narratives I’ve built about myself.
I initially dealt with many injuries, which I believe were a manifestation of deep detox and healing. I’d always approached life with a fierce, active, almost masculine energy. Healing required embracing a softer, more restorative approach—qualities like compassion, acceptance, and nourishment. This shift also put me in contact with my femininity, reshaping my understanding of it and even the image I held of my mother.
How has your relationship with femininity evolved over your 37 years?
Since childhood, I felt frustrated being a girl, as it seemed to come with limitations. I envied the freedom boys had, so I became a tomboy, playing with my male cousins and friends.
My mother raised me almost alone, taking on both parental roles, embodying strength and independence. She was always impeccably dressed, and successful in a male-dominated corporate world, but carried a sense of life as a constant battle. Her influence instilled in me the belief that being a woman meant having to prove my worth, that femininity was synonymous of weakness. I adopted a mindset of, ‘I can do anything you can, even while bleeding.’ This shaped a complex relationship with my femininity, where I felt the need to deny or outperform it.
What does it mean to be a feminist today? And what is a strong woman according to you?
My practice allows me to observe both the limitations and possibilities of my body, helping me realize that I am more than just my physical form—beyond simply being a female body. This has led to a journey of disidentification, where I’ve connected deeply with my feminine power.
For me, a strong woman today is someone who allows herself to fail, who embraces vulnerability without pressure from herself or others. It’s about authenticity—being true to your real self, not just an idealized version of who you think you should be. Strength, for me, is rooted in self-compassion and love. I feel it most in challenging moments with my daughter, especially during her tantrums, where I can hold space for her emotions. In those moments, I feel my heart expand, as if there’s more space within me—that, to me, is the true essence of strength.
What portals or levels of perception as a woman did your first pregnancy open up for you?
My first pregnancy unlocked a connection to my emotional world, opening a door that never closed again. It was as if a flood of emotions rushed in, overwhelming me, and I didn’t quite understand how to navigate it. The experience was intense and transformative; I realized that once this emotional portal was opened, there was no going back. It forever changed how I related to myself and my inner world, making me more attuned to my feelings and the deeper layers of my being.
How are your two pregnancies different?
A quote I came across early on my second pregnancy, ‘Just because you can do something alone doesn’t mean you have to,’ resonated with me, especially in terms of asking for help and setting boundaries.
The first pregnancy was about exploring trust and faith—concepts I hadn’t fully understood before. I didn’t prepare myself or research anything, which was difficult but ultimately liberating, as I learned to trust in life’s flow. We can intellectually understand a process, but until you live through it, there’s a deeper level of understanding that remains out of reach.
My second pregnancy began with frustration. I was in a period of growth, about to finish third series, and about to go on my third trip to Mysore, but life had different ones for me. It was hard to accept the timing at first. I was enjoying my routines and teaching. I suffered the initial process of pregnancy, where you feel how you quickly change, you stop being “you”, as you knew yourself before. You are no longer in familiar territory with your mind or your emotions. That feeling of not being able to count on myself, that old idea of what I thought I was. This exposed me to a fragility, a weakness. I felt very exposed and that annoyed me. Much frustration arose. The whole process of observing that discomfort, seeing where that fear came from, the rejection of my own fragility was a deep journey in which I found immense strength within me. A strength that was not even mine, that I had not gained nor was it the result of my own individual effort but an universal strength. I felt that in my vulnerability, I was each and every one of us. And I felt protected and contained. Supported, cradled. I started the process of mothering myself. Now that I am a mother, I realize how difficult it was for me to conceive the idea of providing me the same amount of love, understanding and patience as I give to my daughter. To be able to wish and procure for myself the same things I do for her, was truly healing.
How was the experience of giving birth?
It was surreal, almost mystical. It was the most spiritual experience of my life—an unstoppable, uncontrollable force breaking through me. It’s hard to describe because birth is an intense mix of disconnection from the outside and fully connecting within, a unique portal. At that moment, I faced my full power and mind limitations. Starting motherhood through such a powerful experience gave me the confidence and strength to face the challenges of raising a child, to stay patient and loving through sleepless nights with a crying baby. This experience holds the potential to empower women and reshape society—imagine a world raised by fearless mothers.
Why do you think society denies women the power and pleasure of childbirth?
Fear. Our society wants us to live in fear—fear of dying, of lacking, of failing, of suffering. This fear robs us of the understanding that birth is a powerful, transformative experience that can be empowering, not something to fear.
How was the postpartum with your first daughter? How do you imagine the one that is to come?
With Sara, I didn’t really experience what I now know as the postpartum period. I wasn’t fully aware of it; I thought it was just about depression, so I didn’t want to go down that path. Instead, I rushed to reclaim my body, my life, and my personal space, without truly resting. Looking back, it seems almost crazy, but I understand why I felt that way—it was part of my journey.
Now, with this postpartum, I’m in a very different place. I’m focused on self-care, respecting my body’s needs, and honoring each phase of recovery. I’ve learned to let go of the idea of ‘returning’ to who I was, knowing nothing will ever be the same. I want to rest, recover, and be present for my baby without feeling pressured, especially not by myself.
What does it mean to you, as a woman, to have a daughter?
Having a daughter is something I’m discovering anew every day. At first, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about having a girl, and I think that’s a sentiment shared by society at large. It’s funny but most women prefer to have boys. And I got a daughter who loves to dress up, princesses, and pink color! Initially, I resisted this, but I soon realized that I was imposing my own desires on her. If I want to model her the power of being herself, I have to respect her choices—even her love for princesses. She has made me question everything I believe in! She has reshaped my understanding of femininity and has shown me what kind of vision of womanhood I want to share with her. Having a daughter has been deeply healing for me.
As an ashtanga yoga teacher, how do you accompany women who practice pregnant and with newborn babies?
I treat pregnant women as I treat all the other practitioners, as unique people. That is the wonder of teaching the mysore method, every person that enters through the door is different. Because I honestly believe that the practice of Ashtanga Yoga is for everyone, for all types of bodies, in different states. This practice can accompany you in all the stages of your life if you practice with the correct intention. For me it is a self-knowledge tool, it nourishes me, it is my anchor and it includes much more than the asana. I can always at least sit and observe my breath.
It is important for me not to impose anything on them. Allow them to walk their own path of discovery. Which is pretty much how we teach everyone else at the shala! This is how my teachers taught me. I got to practice with Matthew and Carla Vollmer through my first pregnancy and with Sharath Jois in Mysore in the second one. I do not like to forbid them anything or tell them what they should do. Obviously, there are guidelines, different for beginners than for experienced practitioners. I share my knowledge of what is beneficial and what is definitely not, but I leave the responsibility of their practice to each woman. For me it is important that they can make their own decisions, make mistakes, try, there is a well of immense wisdom right there. And pregnancy is such an overwhelming period nowadays, where everyone has something to say and it makes it difficult to silence all that external noise. That’s why it’s important for me to provide a place of silence, connection, where one can learn to listen to your own body and your baby.
And I simply love it when they resume their practice. I greatly appreciate, from my own experience, the effort they make to come to the shala. It’s hard to go back to practice, find the time, the way, but I really enjoy accompanying women in that process of rediscovering their new body, their new self, their new strength they find because of that. I know it’s hard at first but I love accompanying and witnessing that process.
What women inspire you daily?
Carla Vollmer is a person who inspires me as a woman, as a mother, as a friend, and as a teacher. She is an important reference for me, a person that I carry very deep in my heart. My ayurvedic doctor, Carmen Frigerio, who accompanied me in my first pregnancy, has also been a significant influence. Additionally, I draw inspiration from many of my close friends.
I’m especially hopeful to see younger women embrace their emotions, support one another, and redefine femininity in ways that took me years to grasp. They represent a new generation of fearless, non-competitive, and deeply supportive women.
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Full Interview in Spanish at Iara’s blog https://cyclicpower.com/carola-della-croce
