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.