This is a letter to the girl who walked out of my yoga class today after ten minutes:
I’m glad you walked out of my class after ten minutes. Do you know why? Because if you never came to the class in the first place, you would not have done even those ten minutes of yoga.
I saw you in the corner, I know why you were there, and I know it was your first yoga class. I know what you were thinking. About the other students. About the poses. About me. About yourself. Most of us have been in a similar situation to you. I have. We’re trying to change something about ourselves, but there’s this gigantic wall made of mirrors right next to your mat, showing you all that needs to be changed. There’s a room full of rubber bands emphasizing that you’re made of lumber. And there’s this voice in your head looking in the mirror and looking at the rubber bands and telling you, “you can’t do that.”
But you know what? You *did* do that, today, for ten minutes. You may not have touched your toes, but you did a forward fold. You did a plank. You stretched your arms long toward the ceiling. You twisted to the left, twisted to the right. You did ten minutes of yoga. And that’s, well, that’s fantastic!
So you know what? Go home and tell all your friends you did yoga today, because you did! Be proud that you took that step. And the next time you come to my class, I want you to walk out, if that’s what you want. I’m just glad you came in the first place.