Dear Readers, I don't have a letter this week. No creaking knees, no existential spirals, no questions about whether it's okay to skip Savasana. (It's not. We'll talk.) This week, I want to talk about me. Specifically, about yoga’s impact on my life.
Ten years ago, I found yoga in a treatment center. Not because I was looking for it. Not because I thought it would change my life, though it did. I did it because I felt alive while I was on my mat.
What I found on the mat, without knowing I was looking for it, was agency. Agency is the felt sense that you are an actor in your own life, not just a passenger. Yoga practiced thoughtfully over time builds agency whether you're trying or not. You start to notice that when I breathe this way, my nervous system settles. When I move with intention, my mind follows. These small observations compound into something that looks a lot like a life you're actually living.
There was also the community. Showing up to the same room with the same people week after week does something to the nervous system that no amount of solo practice can replicate. It says: you belong somewhere. People are expecting you. That mattered more than I could have articulated at the time.
And the mind. A focused mind is a relief. Not because thinking is bad. My busy mind can be exhausting, and yoga gave me somewhere to land. Over and over.
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