Your Yoga Practice Doesn’t Have to Be Pretty to Be Powerful

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how my yoga (asana) practice isn’t always pretty.

Some days there’s no mat, no structure — just me, the hardwood floor, and whatever I’m carrying that day.

For a long time, I came to my practice to escape.

To sweat it out. To breathe it away.

But somewhere along the way, that shifted.

Now, I come here to face myself.

Because the truth is, yoga has the potential to show you everything you’ve been avoiding — the tension you hold, the stories you tell, the parts of you that only show up when things get hard.

Every wobble, every breath, every time I almost give up — it teaches me something about how I move through life.

It’s not about perfect poses.

It’s about finding yourself again in the middle of the mess.

This isn’t an escape.

It’s the work.

It’s the becoming.

And when you finally roll up your mat (or just sit there catching your breath on the floor), life doesn’t stop.

It just asks, “Did you bring the lesson with you?”

Resilience Lives in the Breath After “I Can’t.”

The truth is your practice doesn’t have to be pretty to be powerful.

Even before I could touch my toes (literally), yoga has taught me everything about resilience —

how to breathe through discomfort,

how to stay when everything in you wants to run,

how to meet yourself right in the middle of the fire and still soften.

There’s a moment in every challenging flow — halfway through a heated class, sweat dripping, heart pounding — when you’re convinced you can’t do one more chaturanga.

And then… you do.

That split second — that inhale that says I’m still here — that’s the moment that changes you.

Because if you can breathe through that, you can breathe through anything.

That’s what yoga is. Not the shapes. The shift.

Your Mat Is a Mirror — and It Doesn’t Lie

That’s why I always say that your mat is more than a piece of rubber.

It’s a mirror.

It reflects how you show up for yourself — and by extension, how you show up in the world.

Do you grip when it’s safe to soften?

Do you push through when your body’s asking you to pause? Or the opposite—do you let fear keep you from meeting your edge?

Do you accept support when it’s offered — or let ego talk you out of it?

The way you move here is the way you move everywhere.

That’s what makes the practice sacred — not the postures, but the awareness they pull out of you.

Because when you move with integrity here, you start living with integrity out there.

Meeting Yourself Where You Are Is a Spiritual Practice

With lupus, I’ve had to learn that integrity sometimes looks like skipping a chaturanga and meeting myself in Down Dog instead.

That’s not weakness — it’s wisdom.

Meeting yourself where you are is not a sign of limitation.

It’s the sign of someone who’s listening.

You can’t fake presence.

You can’t hustle your way through healing.

And you can’t shame yourself into growth.

Some days strength means pushing your edge.

Other days, it means staying still long enough to feel it.

That’s yoga.

That’s resilience.

Lessons I’ve Carried from My Mat Into My Life

I shared some of these ideas with my son, and he laughed and said,

“Mom, that’s fire — it’s you vs. you, bro.”

And honestly, he’s right.

Because it always is.

The challenge is never the pose — it’s the person in it.

How do you want to show up?

And what lessons are you learning along the way?

Here are some of the truths I’ve carried from my mat into my life:

• Mind over matter.

• Energy flows where attention goes — set your drishti on your North Star.

• You’re stronger than you think.

• Resilience is a muscle built one breath at a time.

• Presence is power.

• Integrity is everything.

• Courage means walking your edge and exploring the unknown.

• Release ego. Embrace honesty.

• Meet yourself where you’re at today so you can grow into who you’re meant to be tomorrow.

• Your thoughts become your reality.

So yes—some days, my practice looks strong. Other days, it looks like rolling around on the floor trying to remember how to breathe.

But either way, I show up.

Because it’s never been about performing the pose — it’s about becoming the person who learns from it.

The practice doesn’t have to be pretty to be powerful.

It just has to be real.

Meet me where you are.

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✍🏽 Author’s Note

Written from my living room floor after a long day of teaching — the kind of day where your body aches, but your heart feels full.

Remembering that the hardest lessons are often the quietest ones.