Dear Yoga: A Love Letter
An Open Letter to One of My Greatest Teachers:
I was introduced to you at the age of twelve, just a curious girl in a summer dance camp, bending and stretching into shapes I never knew my body could make. I’ll never forget the wonder of that first experience—the quiet awe of discovering movement as something sacred. Ever since, you have been a constant presence, carrying me through seasons of joy and sorrow, teaching me lessons I didn’t always know I needed.
It is an honor to walk this path, to practice this philosophy. And I offer my deepest gratitude to the wise teachers and wisdom keepers who have passed it down. To hold space for others in this practice is not just a role, but a privilege.
You have shown me all the ways I push myself past my own edges—how I chase sensation into the purgatory of injury. You have taught me, time and again, that when I refuse to listen to my body, my body will find a way to make me.
You have humbled me, revealed my ego and my pride, the way perfectionism shows up disguised as discipline, the way I have tried to force my body to satisfy my pride, instead of honoring my need for boundaries.
You have taught me patience. The art of sitting with silence, and with discomfort. The practice of being with what is—right here, right now.
You have taught me to be with what is.
You have helped me grieve. You have held my sorrow in the deep corners of my hips, wrung it from me in shapes I did not know could be prayers. The tears you’ve coaxed have cleansed both my mat and my spirit.
You have shown me what it means to be in flow—to live in the rhythm of breath and movement so fully that nothing else exists. Mind, body, spirit—woven together in the present moment, moving as one.
You have taught me gentleness. The sacredness of honoring what I have left to give. The beauty of surrendering to stillness. The nourishment of lying in silence, held by the presence of a community breathing beside me.
Yoga, you have been one of my greatest teachers. Through you, I have learned to befriend myself. To love my body, not for what it can do, but for the home that it is.
Thank you. Thank you. Namaste.
