This past Friday, just before 6 p.m., something happened in my yoga class that seasoned yogis probably wouldn't think twice about.
I nearly shouted out loud to tell everyone in my class, but quickly quieted that thought, realizing that was definitely not appropriate leading into savasna, the final resting posture to end our class.
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For the first time, my toes touched the floor in plow pose, known to yogis as halasana.
The funny thing is, the breakthrough didn't happen on Friday.
It happened weeks earlier…
My yoga journey
I first discovered yoga decades ago as an MIT student, signing up for yoga as an easy way during winter break to satisfy a physical education requirement. What began as checking a box reappeared as a later-in-life practice. Over the last decade plus, I’ve practiced at a number of studios, always appreciating how yoga helped me feel more flexible and grounded.
A few years ago, I found a yoga home at Triangle Shala. Aparna, the founder, has created something special—a warm, welcoming community filled with generous teachers and students who genuinely want to help one another to progress. If you've spent any time around her, you quickly realize that helping people grow isn't just what she does; it's what she creates in all those around her.
For years, I settled into a comfortable rhythm of practicing once a week. It has been a habit I’ve loved, and it has served me well.
I wasn't stuck. I was maintaining.
Upping my practice
A few months ago, though, a quiet thought kept resurfacing: What if I practiced more than once a week?
I'd even caught myself searching for yoga retreats that might offer three or four classes a day, so I could experience yoga more intensely. Then it dawned on me that maybe the better answer was slowly adding a bit more yoga to each of my weeks and simply building a stronger practice in real life. And maybe, even going back and reviewing the basics….
Around that same time, Aparna added a new weeknight class taught by Yerri. I decided to add a second class to my weekly practice.Yerri teaches differently, as his is a beginner class.
He has us hold poses longer. He notices subtle adjustments. His feedback in my first several classes was precise, practical, and immediate.
Helping me realize
Then one class, during plow pose, he quietly slid a yoga block beneath my toes.
"You're close."
Close?
That wasn't how I saw myself.
To me, touching the floor was something other people could do.
Then he put the block in place. I immediately could feel my toes touch the block.
Suddenly, success didn't seem abstract.
I could tangibly feel that I was close.
The block didn't move my toes closer to the floor.
It helped me realize they already were.
The difference
Over the last couple of months, I’ve practiced differently. I have felt stronger, more confident in my yoga practice. I realized that I could indeed get stronger. I understood the adjustments I needed to make. Instead of simply maintaining, I was growing with intention.
Then, this last Friday evening, when Aparna asked us to transition from shoulder stand to plow, I felt my toes touching the floor. I was a bit shocked, thinking “did she move the floor closer to me??” Am I really touching the floor? I had to hit the floor several times for it to finally sink in that it was real 😀.
I asked Aparna after class what she did within the class that made me extra flexible that evening. We then realized that the key wasn’t something specific to this particular class, but the fact that I had added a second night of yoga class to my practice over the last many weeks.
That was the ticket.
Seeing in us what we don’t see
As I drove home, I realized this wasn't really a yoga story.
It was a coaching story.
We often think great coaches, great bosses motivate us.
Sometimes they do.
But the best coaches do something even more valuable.
They notice what we can't yet see.
They make one small adjustment.
They help us recognize that we're closer than we think.
Sometimes they challenge us.
Sometimes they encourage us.
Sometimes they simply place one small block exactly where we need it—not to make the journey easier, but to make the next step visible.
For weeks, it felt as though nothing was changing.
Then, on one Friday evening, my toes finally touched the floor.
The progress hadn't happened that day.
It had been accumulating quietly, one class at a time.
My toes touching the floor wasn't the real breakthrough.
The breakthrough happened weeks earlier, when someone helped me see I was closer than I thought.
Sometimes progress begins with one small block.
Continuing the conversation
The best conversations don't end when the article does.
A few times each year, I share thoughtful reflections on happiness, leadership, and living well—along with stories and lessons I don't always share publicly.
Shared only when I have something worth saying. And I’d love to hear your thoughts too. Please join me.