The Mission.

Last summer I went to a yoga studio in the Mission. After a rushed bike ride and huffing up five flights of stairs, I emerged into a bright, expansive studio. Wall-to-wall windows opened to hills, sunshine, and rooftops. A jungle of plants hung from the ceiling. I smelled my favorite teakwood & tobacco candle. I heard soft instrumental music. My senses were captured and I was present.

Everyone looked content in the best meaning of the word, like that was exactly where they were meant to be at that moment. The instructor asked us to introduce ourselves to a neighbor which felt daunting yet energizing.

I settled onto my mat and with the first unified breaths I clicked in. I’d like to say my mind stayed still throughout class, but it never does. My thoughts then wandered and wondered if this could be a classic yoga meet-cute with my mat neighbor and if I would have been self-conscious if I had worn just a sports bra and why the hell my foot hurt so much.

But then, the cues my new teacher gave kept bringing me back to the present. They made me feel more in each pose. More in tune, more aligned. Each pose and cue reminded my body, “oh, this is what home feels like”. This is how each pose builds upon the other. I felt each muscle warming and easing deeper into poses until we reached our peak and then cooled back down together.

Everyone in that room was right where they belonged. I was at home.