I never really cared for working out or practicing any sports, I even managed to dodge gym class throughout high school. One year I would play up my asthma angle; another I would say I couldn’t play in the sun because I wore contacts and couldn’t catch a ball without being blinded.

You would think I came to my first yoga class kicking and screaming. But I did it of my own volition. I was seven months pregnant and it was a prenatal class – how hard could it be? A little breathing a little stretching– and on my way home buy a pint of ice cream for all my hard work. Before long Coldstone creamery and I were fast friends, yoga being the bridge to our blissful weekly reunions.

Fast forward two years later when I (ironically) landed a job at a health and fitness company. I took a vinyasa class during my lunch hour to quiet the voice in my head that kept reminding me that being a new mom was no longer valid excuse for not working out (specially since my friend pint had become a permanent resident on my thighs). To my surprise I ended up shaking and panting my way through the entire class. What happened to a little breathing and a little stretching?! The next day I couldn’t even move. But every week I found myself coming back for more. In time, the practice of linking breath and movement allowed me to observe my reactions to myself, the people around me and my environment. What I had learned theoretically from spiritual books became applicable in a practical way. Poses that I once viewed as impossible, became possible which still makes me wonder – what other limitations do I unnecessarily impose on myself? The only way to find out is to show up, roll out my mat and practice. ~Danielle White