Chapter 1: The Yoga Experience

It's a serene Sunday morning at LA Fitness. After enjoying the sunlight and a cup of black coffee, I don my yoga pants and carry my purple mat into the gym, eager to find my inner peace.

The class is busier than expected, and I feel a twinge of discomfort as someone settles in too close for comfort. What if I accidentally bump into them during a Warrior Two transition? Shaking off the thought, I focus on the instructor at the front, a small, muscular man with a thick New York accent. "Downward dawg," he instructs, and I can't help but feel my Zen slipping away.

Just then, a man approaches the glass windows, peering into our dimly lit room. After a moment, he enters and sits on some stacked aerobics platforms. The instructor, in a whisper while we hold Pigeon Pose, asks him to leave, explaining it's distracting. The man, undeterred, loudly proclaims, "I just wanted to see what yoga is like, but fine, I'll go." He storms off, causing the platforms to wobble and crash.

As we reach the end of class, it’s time for Savasana. The instructor unexpectedly switches the playlist to monk-chanting music. Next to me, a fellow student, who has been struggling throughout, begins drumming his hands on the wooden floor, trying to keep time with the chants. The instructor gently requests he stop.

I take a few deep breaths, say Namaste, and chalk this experience up to a mere stretching session rather than true yoga. I resolve to return for Monday night's 8 PM class, hoping for a better experience. After ninety minutes of yoga, I refuse to let my frustration linger as I roll up my mat and head home.

Chapter 2: The Struggles of School

In November, during my fifth-grade year, I began to develop a troubling habit of skipping school. I was on the path to becoming that "bad kid," the one who would become familiar with local law enforcement for my many transgressions. At just ten years old, I discovered how easy it was to flout rules. Though I seldom attended school, I still managed to complete my homework.

As my parents' patience wore thin and the school grew weary of my antics, I found myself crying in the guidance counselor's office, overwhelmed by the fear of returning. Desperate, I pleaded, "Let me try again in December." The first of December seemed like the perfect opportunity for a fresh start.

I was adept at negotiating with stressed-out school officials, and they reluctantly agreed. However, my father was not convinced. "Nothing will change on December 1st," he insisted. I argued that a new month and week would grant me the time I needed to sort through my existential dread. He remained firm, unable to meet my gaze as he repeated, "Nothing is going to be different."

Ultimately, I did not return to school on December 1st, nor did I attend regularly for the next seven years. I managed to scrape by and graduate high school by the skin of my teeth.

Chapter 3: The Weight of New Year's Resolutions

This year, you might have felt out of shape. Perhaps you watched a hobby fade away or dreamed of learning a new language for a post-COVID trip (will it ever happen?). You realized your job isn't particularly "essential," and you yearned to do something genuinely needed by others.

As December approached, filled with pies, eggnog, and holiday festivities, you panicked about gift-giving. You didn't make it to the gym, didn’t engage with your hobby, didn’t download that language app, and didn’t research what degree you might need for a career change. After all, you didn’t have to—January wasn’t here yet.

January looms large, accompanied by internet memes, Google articles, and societal pressure to improve. Why bother improving in December when January seems so magical? There are gym membership deals and others struggling alongside you. Is that what we all await?

Come February, we'll wince at our unfulfilled intentions and feel the embarrassment again next January when those lofty New Year’s goals remain untouched. As our metaphorical mentors pace the tiny office of our planners and journals, we hear their weary voices echo: "Nothing will be different on January 1st."

Chapter 4: The Cycle of Breakups and Waiting

He left me in May without any warning. There were no clear words to mark the end of our relationship; just tears from him for hours until I finally articulated what we both knew. I called the wedding venue that night, and then my parents. When his mother called two weeks later, asking how planning was going, I told her he had left me, and she dropped her casserole dish in shock. No one seemed to understand.

We agreed to meet again on October 1st to see what might happen. After a couple of weeks of emotional turmoil and rebound encounters that left me feeling hollow, October arrived. Let me save you the trouble: nothing changed on October 1st.

Why do we assign significance to specific dates, waiting for time to inspire change or clarity? It’s a curious trait of human nature—we impose deadlines on aspects of life that shouldn’t have them: our wellness, our dreams, our livelihoods. Is this societal pressure molding us into believing that achievement is time-based and that deadlines are as vital as food and water? Or is it our fear of failure that leads us to postpone the realization that our efforts may not suffice? If we never attempt, we never truly fail, allowing us to dream of what could be.

We can practice yoga anywhere—in our living rooms, at the beach, morning or night. Our yoga journey transcends distractions and critics. We can pursue education and set resolutions right now—there's no need to wait. We can let our ex go without prolonging our hurt.

Today is the day to act. Tomorrow holds no promise of change. Believing that time alone will heal us overlooks a crucial truth: while time facilitates growth, it does not inherently motivate us to care for ourselves. In fact, it often does the opposite.

What if we were to die soon? The last words of the dying often reflect on their legacies and unresolved conflicts. As we approach the end, we all have a wish list of what we hope to achieve. The uncertainty of death underscores the importance of starting now, ensuring we leave this world with peace.

Conversely, what if we live indefinitely? If we continuously defer our "start dates," we risk accumulating regrets that cloud our minds. This inertia can lead us to a life filled with superficial tasks that drown out our true desires. We might end up living forever, yet die without having pursued our dreams.

It's a tragicomedy, navigating the dissonance between our needs and societal expectations. We postpone deadlines, placing time on a pedestal as the catalyst for change. But what if we, too, possess the power to instigate change?

Unroll your yoga mat tonight on your living room floor. When distractions arise, when you feel frustrated, don’t wait for a more convenient time to start. Embrace the awkwardness of your practice, whether it’s stumbling through a pose or forgetting to breathe. We are yogis, scholars, language learners, and we are healing and thriving right now—not later, not when time miraculously grants us the willpower to evolve into what we aspire to be.

Chapter 5: Yoga Anytime, Anywhere

The first video, "Street Yoga - Yoga You Can Do Anywhere!" offers practical insights into how to incorporate yoga into your daily life, regardless of your surroundings.

The second video, "Office Break Yoga | 14-Minute Yoga Practice," provides a quick and effective yoga session you can do during your workday, demonstrating that you can find moments of peace no matter where you are.