My Yoga Journey
A True Encounter with Myself
I still remember my first yoga class, in a large room in Paris. I was accompanying a friend, and I didn’t feel like I belonged at all. Everything was difficult; I was only 20 years old and felt trapped in my body, as if I had no freedom of movement. I didn’t enjoy it at all, and I didn’t return to yoga for several years.
I later started practicing yoga at home, somewhat self-consciously, following YouTube videos. Yet again, it didn’t seem right for me. My body alignment was still off, and looking back now, I can’t help but smile at how I struggled. Then, there came a moment when I truly wanted to make it work—to feel flexibility in my body. Not necessarily to touch my toes, as back then, I couldn’t even reach them. Instead, I could barely touch my mid-calves, with a back as curved as a hula hoop. My lower back was stiff, I didn’t stand up straight, my legs wouldn’t fully extend, and my knees touched.
I wasn’t looking for outward flexibility but rather an internal one—the ability to move freely, with gentle, elegant motions that reflected my inner self. So, I committed to weekly classes. I was lucky to have a teacher who took the time to explain things. I didn’t grasp everything he said at the time, but in hindsight, I realize he was an excellent instructor.
In 2017, during a trip to Cambodia, I spent ten days at a center offering three yoga classes per day and a one-hour unguided meditation every evening after dinner. I took advantage of this immersion to try different teachers, different styles of yoga, and I started meditating. That was my first breakthrough. I finally began to see yoga as something other than a class that made me feel uncomfortable and out of place. I felt the kindness of those around me—both students and teachers—and this world was entirely new to me.
I still remember how the daily one-hour meditation after dinner was a real challenge. I had no prior experience with meditation, and suddenly, I was thrown into one of its most difficult forms—no guidance, no explanations, just an hour of silence. From the very first minutes, discomfort set in. I couldn’t find a position that suited me; my legs fell asleep, my toes went numb, and I had an irresistible urge to move. Of course, I had to do so discreetly, to avoid disturbing others.
At first, I couldn’t stay in a position for more than ten minutes before the pain became unbearable. But as the days went by, I realized I needed to accept this discomfort. Instead of fighting it, I began to settle into it, recognizing it as part of the process. That first lesson stayed with me: discomfort is part of meditation, and we must embrace it rather than resist it.
As for my thoughts, they flooded my mind relentlessly. Every minute felt like an eternity. I wasn’t creating space for organized thoughts, as I had hoped. Instead, they came in waves, overlapping and colliding with no apparent logic. Initially, this frustrated me—I wanted my thoughts to settle and arrange themselves neatly. But in meditation, the goal isn’t to control our thoughts but to accept their presence and allow them space without actively following them.
I realized I simply had to let my thoughts flow without organizing or judging them. It was a subtle form of letting go that took time. To help myself, I would sometimes shake my head slightly, a physical cue to disperse the overwhelming stream of thoughts before letting them flow again. Slowly, I began to understand that meditation wasn’t a struggle but rather a space to accept the present moment as it is, without forcing anything. That’s when I truly grasped that there is no failure in meditation—just an invitation to accept each moment as it comes.
I brought these practices home and tried to maintain them. But after a few weeks, I fell back into my daily routine. That’s when I decided to sign up for two yoga classes per week. The silence, the connection to myself, my body, and my emotions—this was exactly what I needed at that stage of my life. Life is full of transitions, and I was going through another one: a professional and personal separation. It was difficult, but coming back to my body, to the “here and now,” kept me from being swept away by negativity.
I began to breathe better. Or rather, I became aware of my breathing—consciously inhaling through my nose, lengthening my breath. When I felt stressed or sad, I would exhale audibly, which sometimes led to funny conversations or situations.
Gradually, I regained what I had been hoping for: inner and mental flexibility, the ability to adapt more easily to situations. I decided to pursue training—not to become a teacher, but to improve my practice and deepen my knowledge. After a year of research and comparisons, I left for India in January 2020 to train intensively. My days consisted of 12 hours of training, six days a week. On my days off, I continued practicing, learning, and exchanging knowledge with teachers, students, and new acquaintances.
During this training, everything changed. I was given fundamental principles that I had never heard before (relaxed shoulders, a straight back, pelvis tilted forward, chin slightly tucked, and many others). I learned to better control my breath and finally understood postures I had been doing incorrectly for years. In small groups, we practiced making adjustments and giving cues that were clear and relatable.
I also discovered that the yoga I had been practicing until then was only one-eighth of what yoga truly is. That was a huge revelation! I had always believed my body had strict limitations—that I wasn’t naturally flexible and that certain postures were forever out of reach. But as the weeks passed, I realized that the limits I imagined weren’t my actual limits. With time and discipline, I discovered that my body was capable of much more than I had thought.
When I returned, I was officially a “yoga teacher,” and the world was still shaken by COVID. I kept practicing daily. One of my biggest personal challenges was discipline. Forcing this practice wasn’t always comfortable, especially since I still wasn’t entirely confident in my body’s abilities. So, I practiced in private. I bought books and kept learning.
But the joy and sensations I experienced after each session were so fulfilling that I couldn’t stop. That’s how I decided to start teaching and share what I had learned. I continued taking classes myself, as learning from other teachers was both inspiring and enjoyable. I also began offering classes at local associations, and in 2023, I took over my teacher Martine’s classes in Cervens, teaching twice a week.
The first year was tough. Just the previous year, I was a student, and now I was in front of students, guiding them. I started by drawing inspiration from the teachers who had influenced me the most, like JC and Martine. I didn’t want to overwhelm my students too quickly, but over time, I found my own style and rhythm. Today, each class is a moment of exchange, a meaningful encounter that deeply moves me—and I know my students feel the same way.
This journey into yoga has been, and continues to be, an adventure of discovery, transformation, and fulfillment. Each step has brought me closer to a deeper understanding of myself, my body, my mind, and the kindness we can offer others. And today, I am beyond grateful to share this journey with my students.