Sunrise
the quiet transformation of a daily practice
The first time I practiced Ashtanga Yoga in Rishikesh, India, I walked into the shala at sunrise and immediately felt something in me light up.
The room overlooked the Ganges River with sweeping panoramic windows, soft morning light spilling over the water while the city slowly woke beneath the sound of chanting and birds. I remember unrolling my mat and feeling giddy. Like: Oh my gosh. I love this. I love this practice. I love this place. I want to feel this forever.
And honestly, that feeling has never left.
I’ve now been practicing Ashtanga Yoga about six days a week for the past nineteen months, and what fascinates me is that even within the repetition of the same sequence each morning, the practice continues unfolding in entirely new ways. It feels less like something I “do” and more like something I inhabit.
Practice no longer feels optional in the way brushing my teeth doesn’t feel optional. There’s a law of physics my teacher quoted recently: an object in motion tends to stay in motion. That’s exactly how this feels in my life now. It has created a current that carries me.
Yoga is often misunderstood in the West as exercise or flexibility or a wellness activity involving matching sets and smoothies afterward. But yoga is actually a state of consciousness.
The word itself comes from the Sanskrit root yuj, meaning “to yoke” or unite.
I think of it like this:
Imagine consciousness as the ocean itself: vast, deep, unified. And each of us is an individual wave rising from that ocean. Distinct in shape and personality and movement, yet never actually separate from the water itself.
Yoga is the felt experience of remembering both at once:
your individuality and your inseparable connection to the whole.
The physical postures most people associate with yoga are actually just one small part of the larger system. The postures are called asana, and they are one pathway toward steadiness of mind and deeper awareness.
What drew me so deeply into Ashtanga Yoga specifically is the precision and intentionality of the method.
Breath, movement, gaze, posture, energetic locks… everything is coordinated together and asks for complete presence. There is a very specific way of entering a posture, being in the posture, and exiting it. There are assigned gazing points (drishti), breath techniques (ujjayi), and energetic engagements (bandhas), all happening simultaneously. The mind cannot wander far because the practice continually calls you back into your body.
And beyond the physicality, there is something deeply refining about it.
Recently, someone compared the six series of Ashtanga Yoga to martial arts belts, and my teacher gently corrected them. It’s not about “levels” in that sense. It’s about refinement of the nervous system. You cannot run an enormous amount of energy through a system that has not yet been refined enough to hold it.
The practice gradually conditions and steadies the body, mind, and energetic system layer by layer.
After practice, I feel grounded, clear, steady, happy. Ayurveda describes these qualities as sattvic: balanced, harmonious, lucid. And I think that feeling is what inspires continuity. You begin craving the clarity and steadiness the way the body craves clean water.
I’ve also noticed how much my entire life now organizes itself around the practice.
I eat differently because of it.
I sleep differently because of it.
I structure my days around it.
I read about it.
I study it.
The same is true for Ayurveda, which is yoga’s sister science. Yoga tends to the mind, and Ayurveda to the body, though truly they are inseparable.
This practice has slowly reorganized my life from the inside out. Not through discipline alone, but through devotion. Through direct experience. Through repeatedly touching something that feels profoundly true in my own body.
I think that’s what happens when you engage deeply with a living tradition. It stops feeling like self-improvement and starts feeling like remembrance. Like returning, again and again, to something ancient and intelligent already living inside of you.
Reflection
What practices in your life leave you feeling more clear, grounded, and connected afterward?
What would it look like to organize your life around the things that nourish your nervous system?
Have you ever encountered something that didn’t just interest you, but quietly began reorganizing your life from the inside out?
<3,
Leah
