Why Tala exists
Get out of your head.
Get into your body.
You're holding half moon. Your muscles are shaking. Your breath is the only thing keeping you up. You're not thinking about your phone. You're not thinking about anything.
You're just there.
And so is everyone else in the room. Thirty people breathing together, doing the same hard thing at the same time. Strangers who stop being strangers after enough Tuesday mornings.
That's what a yoga studio actually is. Not a gym. Not a wellness brand. A place where people show up, pay attention, and feel alive.
We built Tala to keep those places open.
How this started
I started yoga in 2013. Washington, DC. There was a studio on the corner of my block that I'd walked past a hundred times and never gone into.
One day I went in. I just wanted to stretch myself and push my limits. Try something new. Feel healthy and happy in my body.
It gave me routine. Belonging. Consistency. A reason to show up somewhere every morning that wasn't work.
Years later, during a low point in my life, my neighborhood studio became something else entirely. It was the one place I could get out of my head. I couldn't be lost in my thoughts, which were pretty dark. Instead I had to pay attention to what the instructor was saying, pay attention to my body and its balance and my breath.
That's what yoga studios are to people. Not a gym. Not a fitness trend. A place that holds you when you need holding.
That's what I want for everyone. And the people who hold these spaces deserve better tools than what they're getting.
The problem I kept seeing
I started talking to studio owners. The same story came up over and over.
They're paying $500 to $1,000 a month for software. Sometimes more. And the software still makes them do all the work. Scheduling. Finding subs. Chasing failed payments. Sending messages to members who stopped showing up.
The tools are expensive and they don't actually help. They just give you a dashboard and wish you luck.
And the business model behind those tools? It's designed to extract from the owner. Upsells. Tiers. Add-ons. Per-location fees. The software company makes more money by charging you more, not by helping more people practice.
That felt wrong to me.
Abundance over extraction
Tala charges $1 per active member. That's the whole pricing model.
The only way Tala makes more money is if more people come through your door. Our incentive is your incentive. Fill the room.
No upsells. No tiers. No contracts. No per-location fees. If a member stops coming, you stop paying for them. Simple.
This isn't charity. It's a fundamentally different business model. One that only works because AI makes it possible to deliver real value at a fraction of what the old companies charge.
When your studio grows, we grow. When it doesn't, we don't. That's how it should be.
Technology in service of humanity
AI should make things more human, not less.
Tala remembers every member's name. Their preferences. Their injuries. Their milestones. She notices when someone hasn't been in two weeks and checks in. Not with a generic email blast, but with a real message that shows she was paying attention.
She handles the tedious stuff so the owner can focus on what actually matters. Teaching. Holding space. Building community.
Technology disappears when it's working right. You shouldn't feel like you're managing software. You should feel like you have help.
This is not a startup
No venture capital. No board of directors. No growth-at-all-costs mandate.
No pivoting to enterprise when the VC money dries up. No selling your data. No enshittification timeline.
Just one person building something he believes in, for studios he actually visits.
If Tala doesn't work for you, cancel. No contract. No hard feelings. No guilt trip exit survey.
Stay because it's great, not because you're locked in.
The bigger picture
Every studio Tala serves gets its own dedicated AI. Not a shared platform where everyone gets the same generic experience. Your own assistant, with her own memory, personality, and context about your community.
She knows your teachers by name. She knows which members are regulars and which ones are slipping away. She knows your studio's rhythms.
The dream is a world where every wellness space has the support system of a Fortune 500 company, but the soul of a neighborhood studio.
Thanks for reading this far. It means you care about the same things.
If you want to talk, just text me. No pitch. Just a conversation.
Justin Schafer
Founder, Tala