Unrolling the Mat: Why I Started doing Yoga; Personal insights, funny mistakes, and what truly matters

When I first stepped onto a yoga mat many years ago, it wasn’t to find enlightenment or even peace.

I came because my back hurt — the kind of pain that makes tying your shoes feel like a major event. I wasn’t looking for transformation; I just wanted to feel normal again. I had been told that I might need spinal surgery to walk straight again. That's when I found Yoga; or rather Yoga found me :)

The healing began with my spine and gradually worked its way into places I didn’t even realize needed mending.

As my body softened and strengthened, something unexpected happened: I became curious. Curious about breath, curious about stillness, curious about the strange sense of inner calm that showed up during Shavasana and, occasionally, in the grocery line. Eventually, that curiosity pulled me into a yoga teacher training. Not because I thought I was ready to teach, but because I wanted to understand this practice that had quietly, persistently, reshaped my life.

Soon after, I did something that surprised even me — I left my corporate job in software. I walked away from the safety of a familiar salary and project deadlines to do the one thing that had started as a physical therapy experiment: Yoga.

It wasn’t a bold, fearless leap — it was a series of small steps, nudged along by breath, timing, and a sense of something deeper calling. I have been teaching full-time for the last 18 years. I work harder and feel more aligned than I ever did in front of a screen.

"Yoga does not just change the way we see things, it transforms the person who sees."— B.K.S. Iyengar

That quote became a touchstone for me. Because truly, Yoga began to shift not just my posture or my pain, but my perception — of others, of time, and of myself. It taught me to pause before reacting, to stay present when I wanted to flee, and to soften in moments of tension rather than brace against them.

In my classes today, we practice mindful Asanas, mindful breaths, and perhaps most importantly — mindful pauses of rest. It's not a performance, it’s a practice. A place to land, not to prove. Some days we move. Some days we soften. Some days we simply sit and breathe. And every bit of that is yoga.

"We don’t use the body to get into the pose; we use the pose to get into the body."— Bernie Clark

Yoga has held me through major transitions: the grief of losing parents, the strange joy and ache of watching children grow up and leave for college, and the quiet changes of perimenopause to menopause — the shifting of energy, sleep, mood, and identity. On the days when my body felt unfamiliar or tired, yoga gave me permission to meet it kindly. To listen rather than push.

"Yoga begins right where I am — not where I was yesterday or where I long to be."— Judith Hanson Lasater

Along the way, I’ve made peace with the fact that yoga is not about touching your toes or mastering arm balances. It’s not even about the number of people in the room. Whether it’s a packed class or just one curious student, the joy of connection is the same. Reaching one person — helping them feel something shift, soften, or open — is a quiet kind of magic. And it’s enough.

There have been funny stumbles too — falling out of tree pose in slow motion, forgetting my left from right while teaching, holding my breath during “relaxing” poses, teaching an Asana only on the right & forgetting the left. But every wobble has made me a little more humble, a little more human, and a little more convinced that yoga isn’t something we perform — it’s something we live.

"Yoga is not about touching your toes, it's about what you learn on the way down."— Judith Hanson Lasater

If you’re just starting, or starting over, here’s what I now know: you don’t need the perfect leggings, a bendy body, or a Sanskrit dictionary.

You just need a willingness to show up, breathe, and begin. Yoga will meet you where you are — and carry you where you didn’t know you needed to go.

Because Life — much like a yoga class — doesn’t always go according to the sequence. Sometimes we’re in warrior pose, steady and fierce. Sometimes we’re flat on our mat wondering if Shavasana can just... start now. We flow, we wobble, we grow. Our bodies shift. Our families evolve. Our breath forgets and remembers itself, again and again.

Yoga doesn’t promise to fix everything. But it does offer a place to notice — to feel fully human in a world that often asks us to be polished and fast. It teaches us to stay present while everything around us (and within us) changes — careers, hormones, relationships, gravity.

"Yoga teaches us to cure what need not be endured and endure what cannot be cured."— B.K.S. Iyengar

I used to think growth would feel like a breakthrough — fireworks, clarity, maybe a dramatic sunset. These days, I’ve found it’s more like remembering to breathe during a hard moment, or laughing after a fall, or finally learning to rest without guilt.

That, to me, is Yoga Sadhana. A practice that keeps unfolding, surprising, and supporting — no matter what season of life you’re in. So come as you are. The mat’s not keeping score nor am I.