I heard it so many times that it started to sound cliché: “Yoga transforms your life.”

Initially, I was filled with questions and doubt. If yoga holds this transformative power, why are all yoga students not deeply transformed and happy? In what conditions will this practice set people on the road to transformation? Ten years later, the statement about yoga as a life changing practice holds so true that I can postulate, “If it doesn’t transform you and your life, it is not yoga.”

How so?

No one can foresee in what precise ways yoga will change their life, and neither could I. The unfolding of the process had a degree of unpredictability to it, although the broad strokes followed a pattern.

The change started with me, the earnest practitioner who kept returning on the mat, again and again. But the further impact this personal transformation had on my life was not at all what I expected. It was not some gentle breeze-like sweep through my soul, like opening a window in springtime to have fresh air, sunlight and chirping of birds reaching through to delight my senses.

Yoga put me on a life-changing path that was nothing like this.

At first, I was overwhelmed. I realized that I was disconnected from all feelings except fear, pain and anger. Gradually, by getting in touch with myself, I started listening to my soul and understood it’s most arduous desires. My posture improved and spine injuries healed without surgery as a result of mindful and consistent practice. Each breath I took felt fuller and more satisfying. And while all this was happening I finally became aware of my true potential and my true identity.

I came to understand who I really am, and now I dare to live fearless and authentic, speak in my own voice, love deeper and claim what is rightfully mine: a fulfilling existence.

The bay bird has grown, and the nest felt too crowded. So she stretched out her wings to fly away and build a nest of her own. The chrysalis had become too tight, but at the right time the butterfly would come out.

I had finally stepped out of the shell I had outgrown and I expected the whole world to cheer and joyfully greet me walking into the light. That was a bit rushed: not everybody was as thrilled as I was about this new Me, and my new take on life. How could I forget about those who needed me to stay small, quiet, and afraid? If I set myself free, who would be there for them to control? On who would they dump their moods? Who would be there to take the blame for whatever went wrong?

Fellow yoga journeyer, you can probably relate and you know it by now: some people, the energy vampires, are not cheering over such transformation. They will try their best to bring us back into their world, so for our own good and safety, we must see. Yoga helped us grow, and it is this very growth that has gotten us into trouble, so to speak.

I fell down. But yoga also taught me to relax in moments of utmost intensity. It was my time to try it for myself and see whether I could relax, let go and smooth my landing instead of clenching, tightening up, and get crushed in the fall. Yoga also taught me about balance.

When my son was diagnosed with autism, I took it as an opportunity to test the efficiency of my practice, instead of an irrevocable condemnation. I handled the situation from a place of equanimity.

Yoga carried over into my life, creating mental and emotional balance.

I received and benefitted from my teachers’ guidance to stay present. On the mat I learned to stay present to sensation, to breath, to movement, or to just be in the moment. Whenever the wave crests and crashes noisily, I remind myself to stay present and live my challenge moment by moment. Not fretting in anticipation of what may come next prevents anxiety. Not stewing over the past prevents sadness or guilt.

The most difficult moments in life are indeed the ones that challenge our understanding and practice of yoga. On the mat I am constantly reminded to engage muscles just enough to sustain poses, yet without clenching. I am also reminded to mentally relax while physically engaging.

When the metaphoric mat gets pulled out and I feel life touching me not like a gentle breeze, but like a steamroller about to crush everything around and within me, it is the best opportunity to bring to life everything I have learned and practiced in yoga classes.

Life hitting hard is not the tragic end of your newly discovered self, dying before given a chance to live and express itself. Life hitting hard is the big moment of truth: we find out whether yoga has truly transformed our lives, or find out that what we have been practicing up to that moment was not truly yoga.

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Author: Daniela Simina

Apprentice Editor: Renee Jahnke/Editor: Catherine Monkman

Image: Author’s Own