I was eighteen years old when I took my first yoga class. It was second semester of freshman year in college. I needed to fulfill two fitness requirements, and decided to sign up for step aerobics and yoga. I had zero experience with either type of movement, so I wasn’t really sure what to expect. Step aerobics was fun, but I was all set on it after that semester. Yoga, on the other hand, has become a consistent practice for me for over twenty years now. I had no idea how important a 70″ by 24″ rectangular mat would become—my personal reprieve from the world.
Fast forward several years after graduating from college, and I’m living in New York working at AOL. I started practicing at Strala Yoga in NoHo and became friends with the owners of the studio. They invited me to join their teacher training, and as much as I wanted to, I told them I probably couldn’t afford it. Luckily they offered a few scholarships and I got one. Tara Stiles, who owned the studio with her husband (Mike), became sort of like a mentor to me. Her whole approach—this idea that yoga should feel good, that it doesn’t have to be rigid, punishing, or all chants—it just clicked.
I wanted to lead classes, but was too afraid to admit it just in case it wasn’t an option. So I started holding free Tuesday night yoga at 6pm in one of the conference rooms at work. Just me, whoever showed up, and some dimmed fluorescent lights. We’d push the office chairs and tables against the walls, I’d start my playlist, and practice together for an hour. It wasn’t fancy, but it was yoga. They just needed a moment to breathe and move, and I was there to guide it.
Towards the end of teacher training, Tara, Mike, and another senior teacher came to take my Tuesday night class at AOL. I’d mentioned it in passing during the training but didn’t make a lot of noise about it. I was pumped about them coming, but also super nervous. I rallied my coworkers, and that was by far the largest class I led at the office. I think ten people showed up. I was so grateful to them. I can remember Tara and Mike talking with a couple members of the AOL leadership team before class. It was wild seeing my two worlds collide.
A couple days later they offered me a permanent class on Strala’s schedule. “Relax” class on Friday nights at 6:15pm. I remember friends from the office telling me that I was in my element while leading classes, and it honestly felt like it. Before long I was teaching multiple classes a week at the studio while also working full-time in tech. It was a lot. Early mornings, late nights, constantly running between the office and the studio. I think I was tired all the time, but I loved it so much.
But as much as I loved it, my tech career was taking off and something had to give. Tech was paying what yoga couldn’t, so I stopped leading classes. It felt like the practical decision, the smart one. But here’s the thing—I never actually stopped being a yoga guide. The practice stayed with me. That love for holding space, for moving through things I can’t quite put into words, for helping people find their way back to themselves—it’s still there.
Looking back now, I understand why I couldn’t let it go entirely. Because for me, yoga has always been a moving meditation. When I’m on the mat, everything else falls away. All the daily noise in my head—the to-do lists, the job applications, the running commentary on everything I should be doing differently—it just dissipates. My body takes over and knows what to do. I lose myself in the best possible way. Like I’m floating in space, free from any potential worry or concern.
It’s where I process the stuff I can’t quite articulate. The emotions that don’t fit neatly into words. The feelings that live somewhere deeper than my thoughts can reach. On the mat, I don’t have to explain anything to anyone, including myself. I just get to feel. And in that feeling, I remember that I’m safe inside myself. No matter what’s happening out there—the uncertainty, the transitions, the daily frustrations—there’s this place I can always come back to.
My practice looks different now than it did during those conference room sessions or when I was teaching at the studio. It’s quieter now, more integrated into my regular days. Sometimes I take a class at my local studio or do a quick Peloton yoga class in the basement. But I don’t always need the full 70″ by 24″ mat. Sometimes it’s just a few sun salutations in my living room. A couple minutes of stretching while my coffee brews.
It’s become a daily practice in the truest sense. Not because I force myself to show up, but because I genuinely can’t imagine not showing up. My body craves that conversation with itself. Those few minutes of movement and breath are still my reprieve from the world.
