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Jason Kelce’s next gig? Yoga teacher

Last Monday, the long-awaited moment finally came: NFL legend Jason Kelce announced his retirement.

After 13 years as the iconic, beloved center for the Philadelphia Eagles, Kelce hung up his cleats. Sobbing through an emotional press conference with his Super Bowl champion brother Travis, parents Donna and Ed, and wife Kylie seated in the front row, Jason admitted: “I don’t know what’s next, but I look forward to the new challenges and lessons that await.”

Sports journalists predict the popular NFL player and podcast host will make his way into broadcasting. 

But I’ve got the perfect next chapter for Jason Kelce. And it’s not what you think.

The guy’s a total yogi — bare feet and all.

As a yoga teacher myself, it’s been literal years since I’ve paid attention to American football. My family and I moved to Switzerland back in 2018, and since then, I’ve been happy to ignore the NFL in favor of European fussball, Granit Xhaka, and the Champions League. Sobering medical reports about the brain damage caused by degenerative disorder chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) have also increasingly kept me away.

But, over the course of the last NFL season, Jason Kelce and his brother Travis have brought me back — and turned me into a fangirl.

New Heights podcast subscriber? Check.

Giggling over memes of Jason topless in below-freezing temps cheering on his brother at the Buffalo Bills game? Check.

Curled up on the sofa with his Amazon Prime documentary, Kelce? Check.

This grounded, authentic athlete is a natural yoga teacher. No sticky mat or stretchy hamstrings required.

Here’s why:

  1. He’s refreshingly genuine. This realness? It’s yoga. Buddhist psychotherapist and yoga teacher Michael Stone once wrote that “Yoga is the practice of learning to be real.” Finding ease in your body, and cultivating true integration of mind, body, and spirit; this is yoga. With the Kelce brothers, what you see is what you get, motherf**kers. Talk of body hair and Dad bods. Jason rocking flip flops and an old muscle tank at his retirement press conference. Admitting to falling asleep at the bar the night he first met Kylie. “Being unapologetically yourself. That’s my role,” he says in Kelce. And it’s so refreshing. 
  1. He’s an embodied athlete. As a professional football player, Jason Kelce is at home in his body, comfortable taking up space and moving with intensity. (I mean, did you see him leap back up into the family suite at the Bills game? He’s an athlete for sure). Athleticism is his purpose and delight (and yes, sometimes scourge), providing “that jolt” of energy when he walks onto the field. This sense of dharma (Sanskrit for true calling or duty), driven by “being the best in the world” makes it clear exactly why it’s so hard to finally step away from it all.
  1. He laughs easily. You can tell a real yogi by how quick they are to laugh. In yoga and Buddhism, wisdom is embodied by a childlike lightness, a sense of wonder and flexibility. We practice to get more light-hearted, more easygoing. This spirit shows up as what yogis call prana (or life force). And Jason’s got it. New Heights is full of good-natured joking. Between Jason’s dry sense of humor and Travis’s head-thrown-back guffaw, it’s welcome soul medicine — especially when the brothers are making fun of Jason’s eyebrows or reminiscing about 1990s video games.
  1. He has a heart for service and integrity. Karma yoga is the yoga of action or work; it’s a service-oriented offering to the world. (Insert obligatory “Karma is the guy on the Chiefs, coming straight home to me” reference here). Jason and Kylie both take pride in giving back off the football field on behalf of the Eagles Autism Foundation and via the Eagles Christmas album, which raised $3 million for about 70 nonprofit organizations in and around Philadelphia. Karma yoga aligns closely with satya, which is Sanskrit for the practice of thinking, speaking, and acting with integrity. The outpouring of gratitude from players and fans alike upon Jason’s retirement announcement overwhelmingly  highlighted his integrity as a leader.
  1. He’s all about interconnection. Interdependence rests at the heart of yoga philosophy. The idea that nothing and no one exists alone; we all unfold in and are made real by our relationships. (This concept is called dependent origination, if you want to get fancy about it, and it’s similar to the idea of the “Butterfly Effect.”) The Kelce brothers famously prioritize family. Kylie and Jason’s three toddler daughters feature centrally in their lives. Both Travis and Jason credit “Mama” Donna and “Papa” Ed Kelce in encouraging their great success. The brothers embody this strong sense of relationship, even when facing off against one another in the Super Bowl.
  1. He’s playful. In Hindu philosophy, the Sanskrit word leela connotes the idea that everything is divine play. When you think about a yoga practice — during which you might become a Tree, a Camel, a Monkey, or yes, even an Eagle — you can see how a certain playfulness and non-attachment to identity lie at yoga’s very heart. Jason doesn’t take himself too seriously. From his iconic Mummers costume at the 2018 Philly Super Bowl victory celebration to his infamous post-Super Bowl 2024 luchador mask to holding Pottery Barn tea parties with his daughters, there’s evidence of leela all around. 
  1. He’s both soft and strong. In every yoga pose, we aim to cultivate equal parts effort and ease. This concept is known as Sthira Sukham Asanam, and it’s a great guideline for moving through the world. Jason Kelce is simultaneously soft and strong: a tough-as-nails football player who’s also beloved for being emotionally intelligent. He’s a famously loving “girl dad” to Wyatt, Ellioitte, and Bennett. Both he and Travis admit to being frequently emotional — ”We’re criers” — and often tear up in public. And in his final moments as a professional football player, bombarded by cameras, Jason sobbed through his retirement press conference. Strength and softness personified. This is yoga. 

So, what do you say? Jason’s about to have a lot more time on his hands. Ready for the next chapter? 

Yoga’s great for healing football injuries. 

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Rachel Meyer is an American writer and yoga teacher based in Switzerland. Her work has appeared in The Washington Post, On Being, Yoga Journal, Tricycle, Yoga International, HuffPost, and more. You can find her at www.rachelmeyeryoga.com or @rachelmeyeryoga.

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Trust your goodness

I listened to a refreshing interview with meditation teacher Tara Brach today, and she mentioned this in passing.

Trust your goodness.

Do you??

If you’re interested in Buddhist psychology, Tara’s work is a perfect place to start. This year is the 20th anniversary of her book Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life With The Heart Of A Buddha, and it’s a game-changer.

I’m always amazed by how revelatory and mind-blowing a statement like this feels for folks who grew up in religious traditions that emphasize original sin.

Trust your goodness.

It’ll change your life.

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A quiet corner of Chicago O’Hare

I had a six-hour layover in Chicago, so did what any yoga teacher would do: wandered the terminal until I found a deserted corner and then plopped my ass on the floor for a few surreptitious stretches. Ahhh. A necessary balm for the 21-hour journey.

Des Moines International was quieter. The tiny airport felt like all sky, and old carpet, and silence.

I was in Iowa last weekend, unexpectedly, for a heartbreaking family funeral. There is immeasurable suffering in the world right now — Gaza, Israel, Maine — but this slice of heartbreak was particularly tragic, for its youth. I was so grateful to be able to make the trip, and to spend hours in community and conversation with my family — in the same time zone, for once.

Distance from loved ones is one of the hardest parts about living abroad. I think there’s a perception that expat life is all roses, all the time; so many people have casually remarked about our “life in paradise” over the years. It is often wonderful, yes. And I know I’ve subconsciously not shared a lot about our life here in Switzerland out of fear of people resenting me, especially in those first few years when Trump was still President and we had managed to escape, when so many others wished for the same and couldn’t.

But this is one hard thing. Wanting to be with your people when they’re suffering, and being so damn far away. I was fortunate to be able to return this time around. But I feel increasingly aware of those inevitable realities of life that Buddhist teachings highlight so clearly: illness, aging, and death. They come for all of us. And they are as much a part of life as the highlight-reel moments.

Yoga and meditation are practices designed to work with suffering, both in body and mind. They’ve been largely co-opted by Shiny Happy People wearing stretchy workout gear and spouting bullshit about abundance and manifestation. But thankfully, these practices go so much deeper than that.

I love how portable they are. A towel on the hotel room floor for a yoga mat. Legs up the wall in Terminal 5. Box breathing on the plane.

Atha yoga anusasanam. Now is (always) the time for the yoga to begin.

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Be like water

My favorite mantra of the last few years. We can thank Taoism for this one. ✨

Be like water. 💧

Go with the flow.

Don’t get attached to one place, or state. 🌊

When you bump into something hard (say, a rock mid-river) stay malleable, take a deep breath, and just flow amiably around it. 🪵

Pour your whole self into the space you’re in, whatever the size. ☕️

Stay soft.

Shapeshift to suit the season (ice, water, steam) — but always stay elementally the same. 🧊

Bend, don’t break.

Rinse off the dust. 🚿

Nurture the living. 🌻

Stay close to things that grow. 🌱

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Everything is temporary

This is the most bittersweet time of year to be an expat. 🥺 Jobs change, contracts end, and people pack their families up to leave as soon as the school year ends.

Over the last few years, we’ve sent dear friends off to Ghana, Dubai, Singapore, England, Spain, France, Canada, Malaysia, Sweden, and more. Our little village just keeps churning.

Right now, folks are frantically selling off their cars and sofas and lighting fixtures — getting as physically light as possible so that they can return less expensively to their home countries, or move on to the next job somewhere else.

Being an expat means that your life abroad is tied to a job — and when that job ends, so does your permission to stay. But the folks you meet along the way become your immediate family, since none of you have blood family within hundreds (or thousands) of miles.

So living in an international community, you get really good at sad goodbyes, and super quick with warm hellos, and plan your life in weeks or months instead of years, as you all constantly hover in that liminal space of wondering: when will it be our turn? Should we bother hanging art on the walls?

The truth is, though, of course: everything is temporary. Living an expat life, this reality is exacerbated every single day. You know it won’t last forever. So you try to enjoy it while you can.

In places like where I grew up — Nebraska — a lot of people are born, stay for high school and college, settle in as adults, and spend their whole lives in the same community. It can be easy to forget, there amidst the illusion of permanence and safety, that even this is all temporary, too.

I like to think that, as bittersweet as this expat churn is, the “loving and leaving” that is our regular experience is just living deeply in relationship with the Buddhist and yogic teachings of impermanence.

That all things arise, change, and fade away.

Like an ocean wave. 

And when you know this, you become still. 

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Let’s weave it together, breath by breath, pose by pose

I hope my yoga and meditation classes might bring you back home to the truth that your childhood religious experiences may have taken from you: that, at heart,

🪷 You are whole.

🪷 Your body is good.

🪷 You can trust it.

🪷 Your spirit is wise.

🪷 Your heart is vast and spacious, far beyond any particular tradition.

🪷 Our lives are impermanent and fleeting, and we’re all gonna die, so we might as well cut the crap and learn how to really do this thing well while we’re here.

🪷 You and I and all of us are caught up in an interconnected interfaith web of being that no toxic patriarchal theology can take away.

Let’s weave it together, breath by breath, pose by pose.

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Start from the belief that you are good

There’s a great new series of interviews this week on parenting (and re-parenting ourselves) with clinical psychologist @drbeckyatgoodinside over on Glennon Doyle’s podcast. I listened and nodded my head throughout.

For anyone who’s interested in raising well-adjusted children who don’t have to unlearn toxic theology later on, it’s full of gems. 

When you were a little kid growing up in the church, did you learn that you were broken and a sinner? Destined to be separate from God because you kept falling short? Yeah, that’s lots of us. 🙋‍♀️ Hashtag #christianity. Even with very loving and well-intended parents, toxic Christian theology subtly infused the idea that we were naturally depraved, our flesh was sinful, and our desires were not to be trusted.

I love Dr. Becky‘s core emphasis that children are naturally GOOD, and we should treat them as though they are good inside, even when they’re having a hard time (aka what some people like to call “misbehaving” — btw, I hate this word.). The same assumption of goodness goes for you and me, and even that co-worker who drives you mad, or the ex who broke your heart.

This spirit, of course, aligns with the fundamental Buddhist notion of basic goodness. And, as Glennon mentions in the interview, it completely contradicts the Christian notion of original sin many of us church kids have had to unlearn over the years.

Give it a listen. 🎧 I’m a big fan of this wholehearted parenting approach and love how it dovetails with Buddhist and yoga philosophy.

It’s all connected, folks. ✨

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What is the shape of your suffering?

The thing that first drew me to Buddhism was its honesty about the fact that sometimes, well, life just sucks. And that’s how it is. For everyone.

It was so refreshing. 🌱

Eighteen years ago today I sat in the front pew with my family for my dad’s funeral. It was a grand and sweeping celebration of life that he had planned out himself, complete with soaring hymns and a sanctuary full of kind, devoted Lutherans who’d been like family to us throughout his years of campus ministry.

To be honest, I don’t remember much of the wake the day before, or the lunch afterward, or any of that week — it’s all a smoky haze of grief.

But I do remember, very clearly, the Christian platitudes that came our way, about how he “was in a better place” and “God had a new angel” and “it was part of God’s plan,” and how they all felt supremely spiritual bypass-y, as well-intentioned as they were.

That spring, I was taking a course in my graduate program on Buddhism in Contemporary America. It became a beacon; a solace.

The Buddhist teaching that “Life is suffering” (aka the First Noble Truth) felt like the only honest thing in that season of grief.

It gave me such quiet comfort to know that even this most unfair of losses — my young father, lost to cancer at age 58; me only 26, witnessing my peers cherish decades with their not-dead parents — was in fact just a part of being alive. A normal, universal aspect of this whole being human and having a body thing.

So that was the shape of my suffering back in May 2005, which, of course, brought me to yoga, and to meditation, and a life devoted to living and sharing these practices. 

What’s the shape of yours? It ebbs and flows over time, of course — from loss and death to aging and disappointment, uncertainty and malaise, the job you wanted and didn’t get, the love you found and lost, the child you wanted and never got, or the being you adore whose own suffering breaks your heart.

Suffering is baked-in to the human experience. The sooner we can be real about that, and connect on that level, dropping the bullshit small talk and really diving in together, the sooner we’ll find a flash of peace amidst the shadows. 

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Chop wood, carry water

Wash the dishes, fold the laundry, clean the toilets, make the bed: all of those unsexy, stereotypically “women’s work” kinds of household chores. Ugh, right?

Well, Zen Buddhism says: f*ck yeah!! Scrub the toilets! That’s what it’s all about!! Enlightenment is never anywhere but right here, in our breathing, heaving, sweating, scrubbing bodies.

These menial tasks can be a pain in the ass, or they can be moving meditations. You decide.

Most importantly: our bodies are central to the whole deal. White patriarchal Christianity encourages us to leave them by the wayside. Don’t.

Let these Zen perspectives remind you that embodiment resides at the heart of everything holy — where everything sacred begins.

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Gentle

And I don’t mean gentle yoga. (Love me an athletic, ass-kicking vinyasa class.) Gentle with your body. Gentle with your heart. Gentle every time you blow it or run into that meeting sweaty and late or fall out of the pose or say that super awkward thing that makes you cringe every time you think of it for the next ten years.

Gentle with your whole self. Gentle with the world around you. Gentle with not knowing what comes next.

Buddhism gave me this word. As an early twentysomething, I was very good at being hard on myself; most of us are. Especially when you grow up in a religion that proclaims you destined to fall short of the glory of God, sinful and unworthy, broken, “a wretch like me” (thanks, Amazing Grace. You kinda suck.)

In such stark contrast — compassion lies at the heart of meditation and yoga practices. Compassion for self; compassion for your suffering, very human body; compassion for all beings; compassion for the world.

And when your heart begins to spin on the axis of compassion instead of confession, gentleness instead of guilt, everything softens; everything opens.

Try it. Just try being gentle with yourself. Nobody ever got where they wanted to by beating themself up. I promise.

Maybe, just maybe, compassion will get you there instead. 

(PS — if you want to dive further into this, check out the wonderful work on self-compassion being done by Kristin Neff. She’s setting the standard in so many graceful, life-giving ways.)