04/22/2026
When I watch children like this sweet little yogi move through breath and movement on their own, I feel a quiet awe. Because what looks like a simple sequence is actually something profound: a child deciding her body is worth listening to.
As a child, I used to think my body was an enemy. I expected pain from it. What’s more, I thought my mind would crumble under the weight of a suffering-filled world. I resented my physical body and I was afraid of it. No one told me that my body was there for me and that it held a home for me in the rhythm of my own breath.
As I witness these little yogis find their flow, it shows me that they’re learning to be curious instead of afraid. That’s a skill I didn’t develop as a girl who feared the world would break her.
If someone had taught me to pause and feel my own ribs rise and fall, I might have understood sooner that strength isn’t about enduring pain. It’s about recognizing you have a home inside you — and you can return there anytime.
That’s what these kids are really learning. Not yoga. Trust.
So when I see a child flow on her own, I don’t just see a pose. I see a different kind of childhood taking root. One that’s connected and confident.
