I have been practicing yoga since I was 16. Always hyper-emotional, always thinking, often crying, a girlfriend must have known I sought peace and invited me to class one day after our drama club rehearsal.
“I think you’ll like it,” she said, adding nothing, her face cheerful and promising.
I didn’t know then that I’d walk into a space that I think I’ve spent the last 15 years trying to get back to.
White walls, green plants, bright mats. The room was so gaping and wide but somehow relaxed and welcoming at the same time. I chose a spot on the floor, toward the back near the exit, unrolled a teal yoga mat my mom bought from TJMaxx and tried to look relaxed.
I was almost never relaxed as a high school student. I was nervous and fidgety—but mostly in my mind. On the outside, I was friendly and outgoing, people pleasing my ass off and trying not to cry.
When class started I thought it was easy. Simple. Maybe a little bit boring. But something called to me.
“This is not what you think,” the voice said.
Something told me there was more to yoga than meets the eye. I was missing something and the only way to figure out what would be through practice.
Yoga practice begins with patience.
Yoga practice fills me up.
Yoga practice teaches me something new every time I show up.
More than 15 years later, yoga surprises me in fun ways. It illuminates my strength and my weaknesses at the same time. It offers compassion and tough love simultaneously. It creates a new experience, breathing life into me when I’m weary and offering a space to rest and rejuvenate when I need it.
Nowadays, one of the most precious things about yoga is sharing it. We have created a space like that space I found as a girl. We have a space where energy and challenges and compassion can live together and breathe life into others as it did once for me.
Yoga is all about peace. I love sharing this peace.
Join me in the studio Fridays at 10am, or book me for a 1-on-1 session. I’ll be on the mat!