A Modern Love Story with a Practice that’s Centuries Old

Spoiler alert: It’s not always love at first sight

In a darkened room. 55 minutes spent in shapes thoughtfully cued to strengthen and stretch. In the last 5 minutes, feel the support of the ground beneath you, your legs, your body, your arms, your head. Hear the quiet symphony of the collective breath drawing in and out. Without thought, you lick your lips. Softening them, as your chest and shoulders also soften. Tasting the slight sweat on your lips. Lying still, at the break of earth and air, you’re at one with yourself.

This is a love story. Even if, it wasn’t love at first sight.

1999: The first impression

I was a teen when I first tried yoga. My first time with yoga was memorable — though not in a good way.

It was a Saturday afternoon. I’d arrived at a hippie-like studio with a friend. She’d asked me to come along to a class. It was something new and different. When we stepped inside, the yoga teacher waved us in and pointed us the way. I noticed little wooden trinkets around the room, it was quite bare other than mats on the carpet. No candles, greenery or crystals in sight. The class was Hatha Yoga.

Every move felt put together rather than flowed, and in my first class we were taught to shoulder stand. Even before I even knew what a shoulder stand was. I didn’t have the core strength for it — I felt clumsy and my legs dangled in the air, half bent rather than reaching for the sky. I didn’t feel ready for it and I didn’t enjoy it.

I didn’t return.

During that time yoga kept evolving. 16 years past, more and more friends started having a regular practice, even becoming teachers, while I stayed in my corner and replied “yoga’s not my thing”. My knowledge of yoga was pretty simple. It stayed simple and one dimensional — and it was off that one bad experience.

While I was thinking, “yoga’s not my thing,” yoga kept evolving.

2015: Starting again

I was in my mid-thirties when I tried yoga for a second time. It was again, memorable — this time spine-tingly so.

It was a Saturday and I had arrived at the studio, this time by myself. I opened the door slowly and doubtfully — and was greeted by a gentle, older woman who carried a calmness around her. Her name was G.

There was calm in her eyes when she looked at me. There was calm in her gestures when she welcomed me in. There was calm in her voice when she spoke. I noticed her before I noticed the rest of the studio.

The clean studio had living plants in the corners, conscious hand-cream in the bathroom and cold pressed juice in the fridge. It was split into 2 spaces: an active space for Power yoga and a calm space for Yin yoga, Restorative and Meditation.

Yoga had changed. Rather than a past time from a far away land, it became more sure of itself —more than just exercise, more like a way to live by.

I’m still not clear on what specifically made me book into the class, especially after staying away for 16 years. Despite that cringe-ful earlier experience, a seed had planted.

The seed was watered during the friendly debates with friends. The seedling was nourished by supporting close friends who took the journey to become yoga teachers – who grew into a natural calmness. The bud started to bloom when I picked up a leaflet with the words Restorative yoga.

My head didn’t know, that something deep in my subconscious knew — I was there to be restored.

I was in the right place. I didn’t do any shoulder stands in that class. Instead, something else happened.

I learnt that when sequenced properly, with a theme in mind, yoga can undo the tensions in our mind and our muscles. It enhances rest. There’s a logic to ending a class in savasana, and why many love it for the mental and physical calm.

My doubt from that day has transformed to unending relief that I’d opened the door.

2018: Give me more

From relief to curiosity, I explored what I could on my own. I tried Yin, Restorative, Flow, Slow flow, Power flow, Aerial flow — mostly movement based yoga. I tried meditation but I fidgeted through it. In some studios, there was mantra and chanting and breathwork. A little sprinkling of it — I knew there had to be more.

I became curious for more.

2019: Deeper commitment

Earlier this year, I committed. I started my own journey to becoming a teacher.

I was one of 13 students in a 200hr Yoga Teacher Training, where every fortnight we spent 10 hours together for 6 months. We sweated through practicing Asanas over and over again. We completed over 200 Sun Salutations during the trainings; despite our muscles trembling in Chataranga. Over and over again.

We studied a variety of subjects from yoga’s history; its rich mythology and world view philosophy. We discussed the changes during the last few decades in approaches on anatomy alignment. We discovered breath control; the 4th limb of yoga, Pranayama. I became enchanted with meditation; also known as the 7th limb, Dhyana.

Our brains and bodies were awash with wave upon wave of information.

Yoga became real. Yoga is not just about the shapes. These shapes or poses also known as Asanas, belong to just 1 of the 8 limbs of yoga. The 8 limbs belong to 1 specific path of yoga, in which there are 4. The physical nature of it was to develop a strong body that could sit in long bouts of stillness. A daily practice of controlling the breath, withdrawing from the outside world to focus on one thing. Meditate. Be present.

When the mind, body and breath are in flow, things feel natural. We are at ease.

Yoga has a way of calling you. Even if it takes you 16 years to answer.

Intrigued by yoga and mindful movement? Read more at www.sevensundaysyoga.com for a modern take on habits that help our mind and body grow.