When I first started out on my yoga journey, a teacher invited us to pause at the start of class and reflect on why we had come that day. It was an easy question for me to answer.
At the time, I’d had multiple knee operations and could no longer do the sports that had always been part of my life. No power walking, no cycling, no strength training. I came to yoga as it was the only thing I could do with my body, and I had a very clear list of expectations. I wanted to get my heart rate up. I wanted to sweat (it was hot yoga, so that part was guaranteed). I wanted strength, flexibility, and a sense that I was still “doing something” physically. Looking back now, I realise just how many expectations I placed on yoga from the very beginning.
After we’d reflected on why we were there, the teacher offered another invitation: to let go of those expectations, just for that one class.
My immediate reaction was resistance. Why would I do that? That was the whole reason I was there. I’d come for very specific outcomes, and I wasn’t about to abandon them. So I thought about it briefly and carried on as normal. I never really thought about it again.
As time went on and my knees gradually got stronger, my life began to expand again. I returned to power walking and cycling. I started lifting weights. I stretched regularly after cardio sessions. Slowly, without really noticing, my relationship with yoga began to change.
I found myself coming to class with fewer and fewer expectations. I didn’t need the cardio — I’d already walked or cycled several times that week. I didn’t need the stretching in the same way — my body was already being cared for. I didn’t need the strength work — I’d done weights three times that week. For the first time, I came to yoga asking nothing of it at all. And surprisingly, that felt incredibly freeing.
It was only then that I discovered the greatest gift yoga has given me: stillness.
I hadn’t been open enough to experience it before. I’d been too focused on what yoga was supposed to do for me — how hard it should be, how much I should sweat, how strong or flexible I should feel afterwards. Stillness didn’t fit anywhere on my original list of expectations, so I never noticed it.
But when I stopped asking yoga to give me anything, it gave me something I didn’t even know I needed.
Stillness on the mat.
Stillness in my breath.
Stillness in my mind.
And perhaps most importantly, stillness that began to seep into my life off the mat.
To this day, learning to practice stillness is why I continue to roll out my mat time after time. Not because yoga no longer challenges me physically — it definitely does — but because stillness has become something I deeply value. It’s a skill I continue to practice day in day out.
Yoga taught me that sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is stop striving. Stop chasing outcomes. Stop trying to turn every experience into a means to an end. Sometimes, by letting go of our expectations, we open ourselves up to other possibilities — other gifts — that we might never have discovered otherwise.
So the next time you roll out your mat, try experimenting with this idea. Notice why you came to class that day, and then see if you can gently let that reason go, just for the duration of the practice (keep hold of it though beyond the class as whatever it is that motivates you to come to the mat is still very powerful).
Maybe you came for strength, but you leave with stillness. Maybe you came to escape something difficult in your life, but you leave with a calmer, clearer mind — one better equipped to face that difficulty. Or maybe you leave with exactly what you came for — and that’s perfectly fine too.
The point isn’t to force a particular outcome. The point is to create space. Space for yoga to meet you where you are, rather than where you think you should be.
You might be surprised by what you discover when you stop expecting anything at all.
Michelle x
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