What does yoga mean to me?


Ah yes, it has been a while.

I haven’t forgotten about this blog though, it’s just that life has been happening and coming up with meaningful entries was a challenge whilst trying to juggle and make sense of everything else that is evolving around me. I won’t lie though, a big chunk of  these ‘happenings’ has been work related. It seemed like the month of May and June was one long, over stretched occurrence of drama and ultimately the realisation that corporations have a way of forcing the ‘suck it up’ attitude down your throat like a dose of nasty cough medicine.

I had recently gotten back in touch with a friend who resides in Australia. He had liked a photo of me in a balancing Tree Pose beside the beach and I took that as a starting point to warm back up from wherever we had left off during Grad School. We write unrealistically, and terribly long Facebook messages. At some point, I thought it would have been easier if I was to copy it and paste it on Words document so I could read it better. And so I did. It came up to 5 pages.

In one of his replies he had asked: What does yoga mean to me?

And in thinking of a reply, it got me walking down a considerable length of my memory lane. I thought about the difficult times I had and how that 90 minutes served as a respite against my own thoughts. When I doubted myself, when my eyes were puffed up from a night worth of crying over whoever and whatever it was, and all I could do the next morning was to ice it down, grab my car keys and yoga mat for my 10AM class. The first 60 minutes of movements, challenging my mind to stay focused on balancing, on summoning enough strength to hold myself up, and quiten my screaming muscles. And the next 30 minutes of breathing, telling my mind to follow my breath and nothing else. It was my 90 minutes of losing myself in the present moment. Where the rest of the world falls away, and all that matters revolves around the yoga mat. Nothing else can touch me then. Not my sadness. Not my happiness. Not my anger. Or anxiety. It is just me. And that 6 feet length of purple mat.

And that is what yoga means to me for now. I am sure as my journey evolves and as I deepen my practice, this understanding will evolve too. For now, this is why I do yoga.


3 responses »

  1. I figured after hearing from you that you posted. I kept checking, and I too love your tree pose. I think it’s great that the reason you were absent was because life intervened. Just think how much more you’ll have to write about. You inspire me to take up yoga again. I was a real fanatic for a while there but see now that’s not the way to go, it needs to be gently woven into your existence so it heals not hinders. Always nice to hear from whether on my page or yours.

    • Hi Susannah, happy to know I am able to elicit positive inspiration to you to take up yoga once again. And definitely, slow and easy is always better in the long run. I always believe that one should be sincere when they get on their yoga mats. Not because they feel guilty or that they should never miss a class but because they genuinely want to. Never a good thing to lead life with too many ‘shoulds’ anyway, you’ll end up resenting it.

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