What Would Joe Do? Rethinking Practice in a Time of Knowing (But Not Doing)

We’ve never known so much about the human body. About what keeps us healthy, mobile, strong, and well.

We’ve mapped the nervous system. Tracked the impact of movement on mental health. Discovered how breath regulates emotion, how fascia communicates, how the core is so much more than a muscle group.

And yet—so many of us don’t do what we know.

We teach the breath, but forget to pause and feel it. We cue the core, but rush through our own sessions. We know movement is medicine—but we’re too busy, too tired, too pulled in a thousand directions to take our own.

Even as Pilates teachers, it’s easy to get caught in that disconnect.

The Temptation of the Shortcut

We want results—fast. So do our clients.

“Can we make it more intense?” “How many sessions until I see a difference?”

We live in a world that promises big change with minimal effort. Biohacks, tech hacks, 10-minute abs, three-step systems.

But Joseph Pilates didn’t believe in shortcuts.

He believed in the power of practice. In showing up every day. In testing, failing, iterating, adjusting. He believed that a healthy, vibrant body was the result of consistent effort—earned, not outsourced.

That’s what built his confidence. His unshakeable belief in the method wasn’t marketing—it was personal. It was proven. On his body. In his students. Over time.

And I think there’s something powerful there we need to remember.

The Man Who Lived His Method

Joseph Pilates wasn’t just a visionary. He was a living lab.

Born in Germany in 1883, Joe was a sickly child. Asthma, rickets, rheumatic fever. He was teased for his frailty—but he became obsessed with building his strength.

He studied anatomy, gymnastics, martial arts, boxing, yoga, skiing, diving—you name it. He watched animals move. He observed breath patterns. He experimented on his own body.

During WWI, interned in a camp in England, he developed the first versions of his equipment—transforming hospital beds into training machines. He worked with injured soldiers, adapting movement to meet them where they were.

That’s something I keep coming back to: he adapted to reality, but never gave up on the vision of what was possible.

In the 1920s, he moved to New York and opened a studio with his partner Clara. Dancers, athletes, everyday people came through their doors. And Joe kept refining, evolving, responding to what he saw.

He wasn’t following a set of rules. He was creating something based on lived experience.

He embodied the work.

Are We Embodying the Method?

That’s the question I’ve been sitting with lately.

We honor the method. We study it, train in it, teach it. But do we live it?

Do we take care of our own breath, our own spine, our own nervous system?

Do we create time to feel what we ask our clients to feel? Or are we too busy demonstrating, correcting, performing, pushing?

There’s no shame in falling out of practice. Life is full. But we can’t forget that the brilliance of Pilates isn’t just in how well we cue it—it’s in how deeply we live it.

Let’s Be More Like Joe

Joe wasn’t dogmatic. He wasn’t afraid to evolve.

He didn’t rely on other people’s approval or social media likes. He trusted what he felt. He tested ideas in real bodies. He adjusted when something didn’t work.

He believed movement could change lives—because it changed his.

So let’s be more like Joe:

• Let’s practice, not just teach.
• Let’s question, not just repeat.
• Let’s listen, not just perform.
• Let’s remember that our authority doesn’t come from certification hours—it comes from embodiment.

Back to the Mat (For Ourselves)

So this is my gentle invitation: return to your own practice.

It doesn’t need to be fancy. It doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be yours.

Set aside the time. Notice what’s changed in your body. Pay attention to what it’s asking for. Reconnect with your breath. Move through the discomfort. Stay curious.

Because the most powerful teaching comes not from knowledge—but from knowing through experience.

That’s how Joe taught.

That’s how he built something that outlived him.

And that’s how we, as Pilates teachers, stay not just skilled—but alive, connected, and real.

Back to the Mat (For Ourselves)

So this is my gentle invitation: return to your own practice.

It doesn’t need to be fancy. It doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be yours.

Set aside the time. Notice what’s changed in your body. Pay attention to what it’s asking for. Reconnect with your breath. Move through the discomfort. Stay curious.

Because the most powerful teaching comes not from knowledge—but from knowing through experience.

That’s how Joe taught.

That’s how he built something that outlived him.

And that’s how we, as Pilates teachers, stay not just skilled—but alive, connected, and real.

A Personal Note… and an Invitation

I’m not writing this from a place of perfection—I’ve been there too.

Not long ago, I found myself doing exactly what I teach others not to do: pouring all my energy into work, teaching, creating, delivering… but leaving no time for my own body. I wasn’t practicing. I wasn’t listening to myself. I was out of alignment with the very values I hold dear.

Something had to shift.

So I made the choice to recommit. I returned to my own workouts—not as a performance, but as a way to reconnect with myself. And now, I’m opening that space to others, too.

Every two weeks, I lead free live masterclasses on Zoom—a place to move together, breathe together, and stay accountable to the practice we all believe in.

No pressure. No perfection. Just presence. And a shared commitment to doing the work, not just knowing about it.

If you’d like to join me, I’d love to have you there.

👉 Leave your name and email here to receive a personal invitation.

Let’s not just talk about embodiment—let’s live it, together.

With heart,
Iva Mazzoleni

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