It was about 25 years ago when I first tried yoga.
It was during a P.E. class at a college in the U.S., and at the time, I simply saw it as a nice mix of exercise and stretching.
Later on, I started attending a donation-based yoga studio, where I picked up the general flow of a class. I practiced for a while but eventually drifted away without much reason.
Then, about six years ago, a friend invited me to a studio she attended, and I started going again.
That’s when things changed.
Each pose that I had been doing half-heartedly before was corrected and refined. I learned how to truly focus on my breath, embrace meditation, and finally understood that yoga is something that connects the sky, the earth, and myself.
Each class lasted about an hour and a half.
To be honest, there were times when I found myself caught in a spiral of dark, heavy thoughts during practice.
But through it all, focusing on my breath helped clear my mind.
My yoga teacher was a wonderful person, and something she once said really stuck with me:
“No matter what happens, as long as you keep doing yoga, you’ll get through it.”
Eventually, COVID hit, classes were canceled, and the teacher moved away, so I no longer attend in-person classes.
Still, I continue to practice at home, usually once a week, following YouTube videos.
And on the spring and autumn equinoxes, as well as the summer and winter solstices, I always make sure to do sun salutations — a ritual I’ve come to treasure.
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