Caitlin Maree Hart
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What Yoga Taught Me About Stillness, Power, and Presence

What Yoga Taught Me About Stillness, Power, and Presence

Caitlin Maree Hartby Caitlin Maree Hart· 3 min read

What Yoga Taught Me About Stillness, Power, and Presence

I didn't come to yoga looking for transformation.

I came because I was tired.

Untethered.

A little lost, if I'm honest.

I came because I needed a reason to come back to my body —

and something told me it was waiting for me there.

What I found wasn't just a practice of movement.

It was a practice of remembering.

Yoga taught me how to sit in silence.

How to soften without collapsing.

How to stand in power without pushing.

And — most importantly — how to be fully here.


Stillness Is Not Empty

In the beginning, stillness felt uncomfortable.

Like I should be doing something. Proving something. Producing something.

But on the mat, with nowhere to go and no one to impress,

I started to notice…

the way my breath would tremble when I slowed down,

the way my thoughts raced just before they softened,

the way my body would speak, if I gave her space.

Stillness, I learned, is not the absence of movement.

It's the presence of attention.

It's where the noise falls away and the truth quietly rises.


Power Is Not Performance

There was a time when I thought power meant intensity.

The deepest backbend. The strongest pose. The longest hold.

But yoga — the kind that meets you where you are —

taught me that real power lives in awareness.

In noticing when you're clenching.

In choosing to ease instead of override.

In staying with a sensation, not to conquer it, but to understand it.

True power is rooted, not rigid.

It doesn't demand. It doesn't perform.

It belongs to you — and you don't need to prove it.


Presence Is a Muscle You Can Strengthen

There were days I cried in savasana.

Not because I was broken — but because I was finally listening.

Presence came in glimpses at first.

The feel of breath on skin.

The sound of my heart, steady and alive.

The knowing that I didn't have to go anywhere to arrive.

The more I practiced, the more I noticed:

presence isn't something we chase.

It's something we choose — moment by moment, breath by breath.


A Short Restorative Practice: Return to You

Here's a sequence I return to often — especially in tender seasons:

1. Child's Pose (Balasana)

  • Knees wide, forehead to the mat or a pillow

  • Arms forward or wrapped alongside the body

  • Stay for 2–3 minutes, breathing into the back body

2. Supported Reclining Bound Angle (Supta Baddha Konasana)

  • Lie back on a cushion or bolster

  • Soles of the feet together, knees relaxed open, supported by props

  • Place one hand on your heart, one on your belly

  • Breathe here for 5–10 minutes

3. Seated Stillness

  • Sit comfortably with your spine long

  • Eyes closed or soft

  • Focus on your breath — no need to control it

  • Whisper to yourself: "I am here."

Let this be enough.

Let it be holy.


In the End, Yoga Brought Me Home

Not to a version of myself that's more flexible or more enlightened —

but to the version that was always underneath:

the one who knows how to be still,

how to feel,

how to trust,

how to stay.

This is the true gift of yoga.

Not what it makes you do — but what it helps you remember.

That your body is wise.

That your breath is sacred.

That presence is power.

And that coming home to yourself is a daily, devotional act.


If you're longing for gentle guidance or sacred support on your yoga journey, I invite you to explore my offerings. Together, we can create practices that help you return to your body, your breath, and your own deep wisdom — again and again.

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