12/11/2025
Lately I’ve been reflecting a lot on my yoga journey - the whole messy, unexpected, quietly transformative arc of it. I still remember signing up for my very first in-person class on a total whim. It was an Ashtanga class (bold choice for a beginner), and I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into.
I was just a stressed uni student who needed an hour to breathe. And to be honest, I didn’t walk out of that class and suddenly become a consistent practitioner. Far from it. My practice has gone through every phase - intense, non-existent, on-and-off, and everything in between. But the thing about yoga is that it’s always been there waiting for me, every time I chose to come back. No judgement, no expectations… just the mat, the breath, and a chance to start again.
That tiny studio across the street became the first place where things started to shift. It gave me structure when I needed discipline, softness when I didn’t know how to ask for it, and a way to listen to myself in moments when life felt loud.
And looking back now, it’s wild to think how much has unfolded from that one small decision. From wobbling through my first sun salutations to leading classes, co-hosting retreats, meeting so many incredible humans, and finding a community I feel genuinely proud of.
I’m grateful for every version of me that kept returning, even inconsistently, even awkwardly, even with long breaks in between.
All that to say - you never really know which tiny decision might shift your life a little. Try the thing. Walk into the class. Follow the curiosity. 🙏
