The beginning of a practice

I attended my first yoga class in Paris with my best friend. She had this way of pulling me into things before I had time to think about whether I wanted to do them. That's how I ended up there.

It was in a small room inside one of those very haussmannien buildings in the 3rd arrondissement, small hallway, stairs that creak. Five people in the class.

Nobody spoke much. We unrolled our mats and waited. I had no idea what I was doing, so I just copied the person in front of me.

The teacher guided us through an om and I remember staring at my best friend, thinking, where did you bring me? But when the class ended, I left feeling light, different but in a good way, enough to stay curious. Thoughts were not racing. Feeling calm.

Modo Yoga

Later that year, I started a new job. In August 2023, I walked into my first class at Modo Yoga in Paris. Heated studio, 35 to 36 degrees. I missed that info. You step in and the warmth hits you before you even find a spot for your mat. When you see me practice there, you'll always spot two towels next to me. By the end of the hour they'll be completely drenched. I learned quickly to dress light and show up hydrated.

What kept me coming back was the sweat. It sounds too simple but sweating that much felt cleansing in a way I couldn't really put into words at the time. Something was leaving with it. The teachers at Modo are genuinely kind, the kind of kind that doesn't feel performed. Spending an hour there a couple of times a week, no phone, just you on your mat, it did something. It helped me move through things more easily.

I had a very routine life then. Working from home, coding, walking the dog, stopping at the boulangerie before my daily walk, and then somehow finding myself completely exhausted by evening without knowing exactly why. Yoga became the interruption that routine needed. A reason to get out of my head for an hour and just be in a room with other people, breathing.

I kept the practice for two years, and somewhere along the way it made me want to try other styles.

What it became

What I've come to understand is that it started as something physical and quietly turned into something else.

A lot of teachers came and went. A few hundred classes by now, across different styles, in Europe, the US, and Asia. Each one added something, a cue, a sequence, a way of holding space for a room full of people. The physical practice was always there, but at some point it also became a way to pay attention to what was happening inside rather than just pushing through it.

I started to understand what kind of student I was. And from that, slowly, what kind of teacher I might want to be.