I've been doing yoga for coming up on 20 years. And I still have just the smallest understanding. Not in the "know the poses" way. In the "there's always something deeper, always something I haven't discovered yet, always a new layer to unfold" way.

I've left the practice and I've come back. I've reinvented my relationship with yoga so many times that I've stopped counting. Each time, I discover that the practice is never about perfecting your movement or pose. It's about what happens to your mind when you are in the thick of it.

The Beautiful Mess of Being a Forever Student

I didn't start yoga because I was zen or spiritually evolved or even looking for anything in particular. I think I found a Yoga Journal somewhere. And a free class offering outside that I thought would help me meet new people. That was about it. As years passed, I fell in love with the practice. I counted on an old blog my days of practice and what I’d learned. I sought out a yogi that had gone through training and sort of became a student of hers. I’m grateful - she has no idea the path she carved for me or how far I’ve traveled down it. But life happens. I got busy.

My mind took my practice away from me - maybe right when I could have used it most. I convinced myself I'd lost the thread, that I wasn't "spiritual enough" anymore, that real yogis didn't take breaks. That there wasn’t time to make it a priority. When I finally came back something had shifted. I realized: I'd been treating yoga like a destination instead of a practice. A practice evolves. It changes. It meets you where you are, not where you were, not where you think you should be. Right now. Today. With your actual body and your actual life and your actual thinking mind that won't shut up.

That's when yoga became real for me.

Why Your Thinking Mind Needs Movement on Schedule

Here's what I know: my mind is loud.

It plans. It worries. It replays conversations from 2003. It catastrophizes. It creates problems that don't exist. It's brilliant and exhausting and it never stops. I tried to (first drink, then) meditate my way out of this. Sat in silence. Chased the peaceful blank mind. And I just sat there, more aware than ever of how much my brain will not shut up.

Then I discovered something: you can't think your way out of a thinking mind. But you can move it into submission.

When I'm on the mat, there's no room for that internal chatter. Not because I'm suppressing it, but because my attention is completely occupied. My breath, my body, the next pose, the sensation in my hamstring, the way my shoulders drop when I finally let them. How a movement feels and what I understand after making adjustments. The thinking mind gets bored. It gives up. It settles. You’re in a flow.

And in that settlement, maybe 20 minutes into class, something opens. The chatter doesn't disappear, but it becomes quiet enough that I can hear something else. Something deeper. Something that knows what I actually need instead of what I think I should want.

That's the real magic of yoga. It's not about achieving anything. It's about getting your thinking mind out of the driver's seat long enough to remember that your body, your intuition, your deeper knowing, they have wisdom too.

When you practice on schedule, in community, with a teacher that really doesn’t match your vibe…even when you don't feel like it, even when you're rusty, even when your mind is screaming about everything you should be doing instead, you're training your nervous system to trust movement as medicine. It’s a powerful moment and a powerful transformation. And you crave it again and again.

You're telling your body: I'm here. I see you. We're taking care of this together. And your thinking mind, finally quiet, gets to rest.

The Practice That Evolves With You

25-year-old me needed yoga for flexibility and looking good in tight pants.
38-year-old me needed yoga to process childhood trauma and find her voice.
40-year-old me needed yoga to stay connected to her body during pregnancy and prepare for birth.

The poses are the same. The philosophy is the same. But the practice? The practice is completely different for who I am now. And that's not a problem. That's the whole point.

Yoga doesn't ask you to stay the same. It meets you in your evolution. In fact, it requires your evolution. You can't do the same practice at twenty that you do at forty. Your body won't let you. Your life won't let you. The practice won't let you. What brings you to your mat changes. Why you show up changes. What you need from the practice changes.

The woman who comes to yoga broken and desperate is met with gentleness. The woman who returns after years away is met with curiosity, not judgment. The woman who's been practicing for decades and still feels like a beginner is met with the profound understanding that being a forever student is the whole practice.

There's beauty in that. In a discipline that doesn't ask you to perfect yourself but to keep showing up, keep discovering, keep unfolding. In a practice that says: You're not done learning. You're not done changing. Your yoga practice will evolve as you do. And that's exactly how it should be.

Off the Mat: Where the Real Teaching Happens

Here's what I love most about yoga: the poses are just the beginning. The real practice happens when you roll up your mat and walk back into your life.

Can you breathe through frustration the way you breathe through a challenging pose? Can you hold space for discomfort without forcing a resolution? Can you listen to what your body needs instead of forcing it to comply? Can you approach yourself with the same compassion you'd offer a struggling student? Can you be a forever student, not just on a mat, but in life?

Yoga teaches you that wisdom isn't found in perfection. It's found in the practice itself. In the showing up. In the small adjustments. In noticing what's true right now and responding with curiosity instead of judgment.

Off the mat, this looks like:

Self-inquiry: Why am I angry right now? What's really going on beneath the surface?
Compassion: I'm struggling. That's human. How can I be gentle with myself?
Presence: What am I actually experiencing instead of what story am I telling about it?
Evolution: I'm different than I was. My needs are different. My practice (of life) needs to evolve too.
Connection: We're all in this together, all trying to figure it out, all worthy of kindness.

This is yoga. Not the Instagram poses. Not the spiritual bypassing. Just: How do I meet life with presence, curiosity, and compassion? And how do I keep learning and growing through that inquiry?

Why I Hope More People Try This Practice

I want more people to experience what happens when you finally get out of your own way. Not to become contortionists or spiritual gurus. But to discover what's possible when you give your thinking mind a break. When you trust your body. When you practice showing up, even when it's hard, even when you don't feel like it. I want people to know that yoga isn't for the flexible or the skinny or the already-enlightened. It's for anyone with a body and a mind that needs tending.

I want more people to discover that self-inquiry and asking yourself real questions and sitting with the answers is one of the greatest joys available to us. Not as self-improvement project. Not as self-optimization. But as genuine exploration: Who am I? What do I actually want? How do I want to show up in my own life?

I want more people to experience the ripple effect: you come to yoga for your tight hamstrings and you leave with better boundaries. You come to manage stress and you leave with a spiritual practice. You come for one reason and you stay because you've touched something real: the integration of body, breath, and mind. The lived experience that you're not broken, you're not separate from yourself, you're not supposed to be thinking your way through everything.

I want more people to know that a practice that evolves with you is a practice you'll never outgrow. That being a forever student isn't a failure to master something. It's an acceptance that growth and learning and deepening are the actual destination.

What Yoga Has Taught Me (Beyond the Mat)

Resistance is information. If something's hard, it's showing me where I need to go deeper, not where I need to give up.
Consistency matters more than intensity. Showing up regularly, even for 15 minutes, changes more than sporadic heroic efforts.
Your body always tells the truth. When my mind is lying to me, my body isn't. If I'm holding tension in my shoulders, something emotional is going on that my thinking mind hasn't acknowledged yet.
Rest is not laziness. Savasana isn't filler. It's where the practice integrates. Rest is where you actually heal.
Growth looks like returning. Every time I've stepped back on a mat after being away, I've learned something new. The break wasn't a failure. It was part of the practice.
You don't have to be perfect to be worthy. Of practice. Of healing. Of growth. Of showing up. Perfection isn't the goal. Presence is.

The Invitation

Maybe you've never done yoga. Maybe you used to and you stopped. Maybe you tried it once and hated it. Maybe you're thinking about starting but you're scared or intimidated or you don't think you're "yoga people." Here's what I want to tell you: there's no such thing as "yoga people." There are just people. With bodies. With minds. With a longing to feel more at home in their own skin.

Yoga is an invitation to that homecoming.

Not because it's perfect or because you'll suddenly become enlightened or because you'll be able to Instagram your handstands. But because moving your body on a schedule even when your thinking mind protests, even when you're exhausted, even when you don't feel like it, does something profound. It quiets the noise. It connects you to something deeper. It teaches you that you can trust yourself.

And that changes everything.

It changes how you show up for your kids. How you handle stress. How you talk to yourself. How you move through the world. How you grow. A practice that evolves with you, that meets you where you are, that teaches you to be a forever student of yourself and your own becoming and that's not just yoga. That's a life-changing practice.

My Invitation to You

If you're thinking about trying yoga, try it. Not because you need to fix something or achieve something. But because your body, your mind, and your nervous system deserve to experience what it feels like when they finally work together. If you've stepped away from the practice, come back. The mat will be there. You might be different. Your body might be different. The practice will meet you exactly as you are right now.