
What Yoga Taught Me About Stillness, Power, and Presence

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)
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Knees wide, forehead to the mat or a pillow
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Arms forward or wrapped alongside the body
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Stay for 2–3 minutes, breathing into the back body
2. Supported Reclining Bound Angle (Supta Baddha Konasana)
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Lie back on a cushion or bolster
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Soles of the feet together, knees relaxed open, supported by props
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Place one hand on your heart, one on your belly
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Breathe here for 5–10 minutes
3. Seated Stillness
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Sit comfortably with your spine long
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Eyes closed or soft
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Focus on your breath — no need to control it
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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.