My yoga journey began my freshman year of college at Indiana University in 2003, when I found an elective yoga course that fit into my busy schedule. 

It was so different from the large lecture halls I was experiencing at the time. I was also transitioning away from playing high school sports, and yoga gave me a new, welcoming way to move my body and reconnect with myself.

That class taught me something I am forever grateful for: how to have my own yoga practice that I could access anytime, anywhere.

Years later, I found myself in Columbia, Missouri, and was invited to try Yoga Shapeshifting, taught by Jake Wilson, who I now call my local yogi guru and friend.

I was challenged both physically and mentally. Slowly, I started noticing my body shifting. I was breathing through my nose more often. I was facing fears of going backward. I was learning to be patient with and heal my newly postpartum body.

But even more significant was what was happening in my mind.

I was paying more—or maybe actually less—attention to my thoughts. I began asking myself with Jake's encouragement, What am I thinking? And should I be?

I found more loving kindness for myself, and for everything that crossed my path.

Jake once shared something inspired by his teacher, Mary Jarvis, that has stayed with me:

“Yoga uncovers our natural goodness, which had been covered by too much thinking.”

That idea really resonates with me.

In my work, I hold space for many beautiful souls as they process hard things. I am a keeper of secrets, a witness to life’s challenges and torment. I feel incredibly blessed to be part of someone’s healing journey.

But sometimes the energy I absorb has to move through me.

Yoga helps me do that.

When I talk with my clients about movement and the mind-body connection, it comes from a place of lived experience and inner knowing. I don’t believe movement has to be forced. I believe it can be an invitation—to come back into our bodies, to notice what we’re carrying, and to reconnect with ourselves.

I’ve also learned that yoga isn’t necessarily about trying harder.

I try to do yoga, and yoga teaches me to try less.

To let go of tension. To surrender into stillness. To notice what happens as my spine compresses or expands. As I try less with my mind, I often begin to feel the tension soften in my body.

I am in my body, but I am also able to observe it from a little distance—as I hold a shape that is often completely opposite from how I hold my body for most of the day.

Yoga has taught me how to notice.

To breathe.

To soften.

To be present.

And perhaps most importantly, to be a little kinder to myself.

I will always be a student of yoga. I feel incredibly blessed to have a body that allows me to practice, to have a life to experience, and simply to be alive.

And I feel especially grateful to have a welcoming hot yoga community like Sumits in my life.

My yoga journey has taken me from a college elective in 2003 to a practice that continues to teach me something new every time I step onto my mat.

I don’t think I’m ever going to “arrive.”

And I think that’s the beauty of being a student.