FINDING RHYTHM AT THE BEGINNING

Every time our teacher training course begins, the first few days feel a little unsettled.

Students are adjusting to a new rhythm.

The schedule is full.

The body is working in unfamiliar ways.

The mind is trying to keep up with new information.

Even the teacher needs time to settle into the group.

This is normal.

Yoga does not reveal itself all at once. It asks for patience, openness, and a willingness to stay with what feels unclear at first.

In the yoga tradition, the body is not separate from the path. It is the first place we begin. The muscles, joints, bones, breath, and patterns of movement all need time and careful attention. If the outer body is ignored, it becomes an obstacle rather than a support. When the body is understood and cared for, it becomes a doorway inward.

This is why our practice gives so much importance to detail. We work slowly. We repeat actions. We use props. Props are not shortcuts. They help you feel what your body cannot yet feel on its own. They support you where strength, mobility, or understanding is still developing. Through support, awareness grows.

Walking the path of yoga is not always comfortable. It can be frustrating. There will be moments of doubt. This is part of the process. Yoga asks for faith. Faith in a tradition that has been practiced for centuries, faith in the teacher as a guide, and faith in your own ability to listen to your body. The teacher can guide you, but only you can feel what is happening inside.

Modern culture often treats being a beginner as something to avoid. In yoga, it is the opposite. A beginner’s mind, open, curious, and not attached to results, is encouraged at every stage of practice. When we let go of what we think we know, real learning becomes possible.

Asanas are not about reaching a final shape. They are about the journey of understanding yourself. Every body is different. Age, history, health, and temperament all matter. What matters most is not how a pose looks, but how intelligently and honestly you work with what you have.

Yoga requires awareness, observation, and body intelligence. When practice becomes only about copying shapes or chasing advanced poses, yoga loses its depth. When practice is guided by attention and patience, it becomes transformative.

In time, the actions you practice stop feeling like something you are “doing”. They begin to feel embodied. Personal. Alive.

And like all meaningful things, it is difficult at first. That does not mean you are doing it wrong. It means you have begun.