Knowing the Yield: Why I Return to the Mat.

I step onto the mat knowing the yield. I move. I enter the flow. I thank God.

And peace becomes pervasive.

I am familiar with what awaits me when I step onto my yoga mat. That is precisely why I keep returning.

For me, yoga is far more than physical movement. It is a means of harnessing a physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual experience. I know that when I practice, my body will be challenged and will deliver what it can. Stresses may rise to the surface and eventually dissipate. My focus will deepen, the noise will begin to quiet, and a sense of peace will settle in as I find myself praying to God in thanksgiving.

None of this is incidental to the practice; it is the practice as I have come to know it. The movement, focus, emotional release, prayer, and pervasive sense of peace become part of one experience.

My understanding of this yield—of everything the practice gives back to me—is what draws me to the mat over and over again.

As the practice continues, I become increasingly absorbed in the totality of it—the movement, the concentration, the rhythm, the gratitude, and the prayer. I am not assigning meaning to individual postures or looking for lessons within particular movements. It is the whole experience that engulfs me.

In this way, the practice opens an avenue of communication with God at the center. I bring my body, my heart, my pain, my gratitude, and my needs into the moment. The practice engages all of these parts of me, and in giving myself over to the experience, I somehow become more available to recognize and enjoy the goodness of God.

There is something deeply meaningful to me about the role of the physical body in all of this. We live our lives in physical bodies, and through movement, the body can become an instrument for emotional and mental well-being rather than something separate from them. As my body moves, my mind joins it. Emotion, difficulty, and stress become wrapped in the power of the movement and the prayer. The boundaries between them begin to soften, and in that opening, my heart becomes free to commune with God.

The movement, focus, emotional release, prayer, and peace are no longer separate parts of the experience. They become one—the totality of which carries me into a flow that is difficult to divide into physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual pieces.

Perhaps that is the real yield of the practice for me. I come to the mat as a complicated package, carrying whatever the day and life have given me. I do not have to leave any of it behind. I bring it with me and use it all—body, mind, heart, and spirit—to more fully experience the goodness and blessings, the love and joy, that are here for me.

I know this awaits me.

That is why I return.