The Tree Pose

I didn’t come to yoga for enlightenment. I came for the easy A.

In college, I needed a light elective—something chill to balance out the heavier coursework. Yoga seemed like a safe bet. No written exams. Stretch a little. Breathe a little. Coast through and maybe get a good nap. That was the plan.

What I didn’t plan for was … the stillness.

The kind that confronts you in the quiet. The kind that doesn’t just stretch your body—but your mind, your emotions, your limits.

College life moves at neck breaking speed so at first, I treated it like a side quest. But slowly, class by class, posture by posture, I felt something shift. A grounding. A slowing down. A chance to feel present in a way I didn’t know I was missing. It may have been the class that kept me sane enough to progress.

Years later, yoga and meditation have become less of an activity and more of a companion—especially in my travels. Sometimes, in the most unexpected places—on a mountain ledge, in a quiet forest clearing, on a rooftop overlooking a wild, unfamiliar city—I’ll drop into a pose. Not to impress anyone. Not for the gram. But as a way to mark the moment.

Tree pose became a personal favorite. One foot planted. Arms reaching. A symbol of where I am and where I’m going. Balance, Strength, Growth.

I've struck that pose in Iceland winds, on African plains, in Southeast Asian temples. Each time, I like to capture the moment—not just the place, but the person I’m becoming in that place. As the name implies, we are trees, anchored to this planet. Learning, growing, and connected. The tree pose serves as a healthy reminder of my internal state.

Meditation also plays a role. What began as awkward silence in a college studio transformed into significant moments of tranquility in airports, jungles, and deserts. Sometimes just five minutes with my breath is enough to reset, reconnect, and remember why I move through the world the way I do.

What I once dismissed as “just stretching” became a quiet teacher. And in a world that constantly pushes motion and noise, yoga gave me the power to be still. To listen. To grow. To stretch beyond what I thought I could be.

Some journeys take you across the world, others take you within. And sometimes—if you’re lucky—they do both.