I’ll never forget my first shoulder stand. I was 22, in the north of Thailand on a three-day trek, complete with elephant rides, showering in waterfalls, camping in wooden huts, and waking to the chilly mist of the mountain air. I had been practicing off and on for 3 years at that point. I had taken classes at my local gym and followed along to a few yoga videos. But it was on this trek that my sincere love affair with yoga would begin. Up to this point it was as if we had been dating here and there, and suddenly a certain glimpse into my lover’s eyes was all it took to turn me head over heels.

When any really good gift arrives for you, on the other end there is a giver. The giver was a girl named Melanie. Melanie had just left India and was on a spiritual journey that, quite honestly, was way over my head. I was intrigued, and we took to each other quickly, having quiet conversations and practicing asana during our down time. I wasn’t quite sure what she had, but I wanted it. That peaceful glow and naturally soft nature; she seemed wise beyond her years.

Now, I cannot remember if she gave me the book, or just suggested I read it. I suppose it does not really matter, but what does matter is that I picked up a paperback copy of Paramahansa Yogananda’s Autobiography of a Yogi. As the pages unfolded in front of me, my love grew deeper—my passion stronger. I wanted that peace and tranquility. I wanted to believe, truly believe, in something greater than myself. I wanted the comfort of a greater existence, a plan so to say, that I had no control over. The idea that my existence could be different and better than I’d ever known appealed to the deepest, most secret parts of my soul.

It’s funny to look back over the years and notice how my focus has changed, how my practice has changed, how my intentions have changed. It is nice to tell this little story of how I got started on my yogic journey. I spent many years focusing on the asana. Telling myself that I would be happy when I could put my chest on the floor in a wide leg forward bend. That I would be happy when I could do a headstand, handstand, jump through to my bottom like a real Ashtanga yogi, etc. It is true that sometimes I still get caught up in trying to accomplish a certain asana. As I think back to that first shoulder stand, I remember for the first time seeing the flesh of my belly tumbling towards my face (I also used to carry around 20 more pounds of it). I remember my legs wobbling. Yet, I also remember the sky just beyond the tips of my toes. I remember the stony, dry, hard earth beneath my shoulders, pressing into the back of my head. Like any REAL, TRUE love, it was not what the pose looked like that I fell in love with. It was the way it made me feel.

I still come to my mat, almost everyday and try to tap into that same sensation. My understanding of that connection has deepened. Am I also still trying to do a handstand for more than two seconds? Do I still have loads to learn? Of course. Did I learn that being able to wrap myself up into a pretzel doesn’t make me a better yogi? Well, yeah. I believe the mark of a good yogi is found in the earnestness to practice, the devotion, the intention of realizing God. And you know what? These are the things that do make me happy. Happiness is not the goal; happiness is the way. Yoga is the way.

Retrospectively my vision is 20/20. That is what Melanie had. She had the passion, the devotion, the yearning, the understanding of something greater than herself. She encouraged me to see same qualities within myself. So maybe, Melanie did not give me any of that at all. It already existed in me. But she did give me a little bit of courage and inspiration. Priceless gifts are the best gifts of all. You never know when just being yourself will touch another person’s life and be the catalyst to a life-altering shift. I just want to send a thank you out into the universe, all the way to Melanie. Our meeting changed my life. That is why I teach yoga, and why I practice everyday. You never know when just one word or one touch might be so much more to just one person. After all, everyone is just one person. ~ Jana Malloy