Author: Selene Lindstrom

March 7, 2026

I remember being in my 20s, teaching yoga in classes where the goal was to push our bodies into higher levels of athleticism. How much deeper can you go into this pose? How much higher can you lift your leg in that one? How much longer can you balance here? How much stronger can you get there? I would end every class sweating, worn out, and positively glowing. As I taught at a wellness resort, my students relished in the challenges of my classes. They would leave comparing their progress on the mat as football fans compare stats for favorite players.

Fast forward a couple of decades and my yoga practice looks very different. That began about eight years ago, when a catastrophic ankle injury led to multiple surgeries to reconstruct and restore my foot and ankle and years of my needing a wheelchair, crutches, or scooter to get around. To this day, my cane stands by my front door, just in case … and just in case does happen a few times a year.

In those years, I learned that yoga can be done quite successfully without ever standing up on your mat. You can do an incredible, transformative yoga practice and never break a sweat. Yoga is, after all, a practice, a mindset, a lifestyle and not a fitness fad (though many treat it as such).

In the past month, I have been dealing with a knee that has been subluxing. It’s quite painful and unstable much of the time. My morning yoga practice no longer includes Warrior poses, balancing poses, or anything else that would tax my joint while it heals. And, as I do my poses, reaching from one flexibility challenge into a strength challenge into a movement challenge, I have learned to accept my body – to accept the flow of my life, my strength, and my energy.

Flow does not have to be the upward-only trajectory of my early days as a yoga teacher. Flow can look like waking up exhausted after a poor night’s sleep and only doing child’s pose, cat-cow, and puppy pose before taking constructive rest pose. It can look like an entire series structured around a 10-pound ankle cast. It can look like embracing 60 pounds of weight gain brought on by the inability to walk and it can look like slowly rebuilding strength, balance, and endurance over the span of years to once again be able to enjoy a few miles’ walk in the woods.

I am glad there are people who enjoy yoga classes that urge people to try headstands, dancer pose, and more. My classes and my solo practice will likely never look like that again. But, in my heart, I know my practice has become so much deeper, so much more profound and transformative, because it grew to a place where I can work around my larger body, my weaker joints, and my spoonie energy reserves.

I surrender to my body, to my energy. I cherish her as the beloved body that is part of my mind-body-spirit self. My body is not a vehicle. It is not a vessel. It is me. It is as much a part of me as my thoughts, loves, passions, sorrows, and joys. And to give it anything other than love, respect, and care would be like starving a beloved child of meals. I am proud of my body, complete with all of its challenges and limitations, and I love her completely.

Blog: surrendering to the pose, to the body’s needs and limits.

February 22, 2026

After nearly a decade of working remotely, I recently started a hybrid job with three days a week in the office. It has been a more challenging transition than I had anticipated; as an introvert, being around people that much can be very draining, and the physical demands of sitting at a desk for 8+ hours a day – a desk that isn’t my curated, ergonomic home setup – triggered pain and exhaustion that, six weeks after starting the job, are only now beginning to fade.

While this new chapter in my life is a happy one, it does come with a high initial physical cost, and I began really thinking about Dharana in my life. I have always been mindful that my attitude shapes my experience; simply put, if you go into something expecting it to be negative, it likely will be and vice versa. As I navigated the unexpected challenges of returning to in-person work and a new job, Dharana was at the forefront of my mind and I became mindful of how my focus shaped my experience.

As a person with hEDS, any new demand on my body will result in pain. Moving from my home desk, where I have three chairs I rotate through in a day, as well as a sit-stand desk that allows me to stand and break up my physical load bearing, to an office with a single desk chair and a fixed-height cube desk was rough. Being in an office where I could be observed at any time further complicated my physical world, as I no longer felt comfortable doing the squats, forward folds, and other mini fitness breaks I would normally do at home.

The pain was far more intense than I anticipated.

Though I was very excited about the job and enjoyed my new coworkers and found the company mission inspirational, I found myself waking each morning with a sense of dread. Sundays were spent with a sense of anxiety about the demands my job held on my body, which was only just seeing a measure of recovery from the week prior. My mindset was quite negative as my Dharana centered on the pain in my body.

But, one morning, while I was doing my daily yoga, I found that I was doing more gentle poses to be kinder to my aching muscles and joints. I took pigeon pose and leaned forward, resting my forehead on my mat. (hEDS makes pigeon pose a resting pose.) I spent two or three full minutes in that pose and, as I did, my Dharana centered on my low back, hips, and thighs. I felt my sore, tense muscles begin to stretch and find ease and peace and rest. As I sent my breath to these achy parts, I began to tell my body – speaking the words aloud – that I loved her and that she was strong and healthy and would rebound soon. I told my body that she could trust me to care for her. I thanked her for all of the work she was doing and promised to make sure I didn’t ask too much from her. And, as pigeon pose slowly eased the tension from layer after layer of muscle, I found the deeper hip flexors softening and relaxing into pigeon pose and finally finding ease.

I switched sides and let pigeon pose do its magic on the other side of my body and then spent some time in constructive rest pose. I stood up from my yoga mat recharged, with a positive mindset. I knew that my body would experience pain as I continued to adjust to the demands of this new job, but that my body was fully capable of getting through it and that I could trust myself to care for my body as we made our way through this transition. Somehow, that focus, that reframing of my situation from “I am in pain” to “I am in transition and my body can trust me to navigate it” made everything so much easier. Slowing my yoga practice down into mindful, steady, gentle self-care poses where I could share love with my body as it worked into a new routine suddenly became a practice of honoring and thanking my body and marveling at its ability to rise to challenges and adapt to them. It left me feeling far more grounded in my physical abilities and sense of self-trust.

In short, I realize that I had turned my Dharana from the negative challenges I was facing to the love promise of care and safety that I gave to myself turned my focus to one of transition for my body and I marveled at what I was capable of doing and what I could trust myself to do.