Why I Do Yoga
Sixteen years ago, I was in the fog of depression and anxiety. My mind was a ocean, and I could not find the shore. Meditation had already shown me glimpses of stillness, but my body longed for a way to be included in that search for peace. Yoga arrived in my life like a rope tossed into dark waters—a way to ground myself, to come home, to be whole again.
At first, yoga was simply breath and movement, a sequence of shapes I strained to hold. But soon, it became something far deeper. Each posture was a conversation between body and spirit, an invitation to inhabit myself fully. Yoga taught me that my body was not my enemy, not a stranger, but a sacred vessel capable of carrying me through both struggle and joy. It was here, on the mat, that I began to wonder at what was possible—how strength and softness could coexist, how balance could be found not only in tree pose but also in my daily life.
As the years unfolded, yoga became an act of love. It was no longer about stretching farther or holding longer, but about meeting myself with compassion. When grief pressed heavy, yoga held me. When fear narrowed my vision, yoga widened my breath. It became the way I practiced kindness toward myself—an embodied prayer, a return to the present moment again and again.
Yoga also deepened my meditation practice. The stillness I touched on the cushion became richer when my body had first been moved, opened, honored. The quiet after a sequence, the pause after an exhale—these moments mirrored the silence I found in Zen practice. Together, yoga and meditation became twin rivers flowing into the same ocean of awareness.
And yoga gave me community. In shared practice, I found others seeking the same wholeness. Together, we breathed, we laughed, we stumbled, we grew. The mat became not only a personal sanctuary but also a bridge connecting me to others walking their own paths of healing.
Why do I do yoga? Because it saved my life. Because it reminds me every day that I am not broken, but whole. Because it teaches me to stand firmly in my body while softening my heart. Because it prepares me, again and again, to meet the world with openness, courage, and compassion.
This is the invitation I extend to you at Clouds and Water Zen Meditation Center. Come to the mat, not to perform, but to remember. Come to breathe deeply, to listen inwardly, to explore the edges of your possibility with gentleness. Come to discover what your body, your spirit, your whole being can hold.
Over the coming weeks, we will also share stories from sangha members about how body-centered practices have supported and deepened their own journeys of practice. My hope is that, together, these voices create a chorus of encouragement—a reminder that each of us is walking a path toward healing, and that none of us walks it alone.
Yoga is not about touching your toes—it is about touching your life with presence. It is about becoming curious about who you are beneath the noise, and about meeting that self with love.
I would be honored to share this practice with you.
Learn more about upcoming Yoga Practice Opportunities at Clouds.
by Eisho Felicia Sy, priest candidate at Clouds in Water
