“live with ease”

Sunday mornings at the Y start quietly. Just a few of us in the studio, mats rolled out, windows still fogged over from the night before. There’s no pressure to perform, no need to talk. Just breath, stretch, breath again.

Michelle, our teacher, has a calm that isn’t performative—it’s earned. Her voice carries, but softly, like something you lean toward. She plays Stevie Wonder, India Arie, Angie Stone. The kind of music that settles into your shoulders. We move through poses slowly. No mirrors. No one trying to be anywhere else. Somewhere along the way, I found my rhythm again. Not the yoga I used to do, not the body I used to have—but something steadier.

At the end of each class, we say a mantra out loud: I am safe, I am strong, I am happy, I live with ease. The words land differently depending on the day. But something about saying them in a room full of people—many of us strangers—makes them feel true. Or at least possible.

There’s a kind of quiet belonging that happens when you keep showing up to the same place each week, with the same faces around you. No one asking questions, no one keeping score. Just breath, music, movement—and a sense that peace is possible.

Even here, even now.

I don’t take it for granted: to feel this grounded, this at ease, in this city.

- L