Yoga beyond the mat: grief, joy & drag
Lately, a lot of people have been asking me how I’m doing. It’s been a little while now since my friend passed, and for a long time, I felt like I wasn’t quite myself. Grief has a way of pulling you under, making everything feel unfamiliar—even when you are doing the things you do every day. But lately, I’ve been honestly able to say that I've had moments where I feel like me again. That I've had moments of joy, moments where I feel present, where life feels full again. And I realise that this, too, is yoga.
Yoga is often thought of as something we do—a physical practice, a series of poses—but it is much more than that. In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali defines yoga as chitta vritti nirodhah, the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind. It is the experience of being present, of coming home to ourselves, beyond the distractions, grief, and feeling not good enough.
Here’s how yoga has helped to guide me back to myself:
Asana (Physical Postures): Grief can make the body feel heavy, disconnected. Moving on the mat helped me find my way back into my body, reminding me that I am here, still whole, still alive.
Pranayama (Breathwork): The breath is always with us, a bridge between mind and body. When emotions became overwhelming, simple breathwork helped me find steadiness again.
Dhyana (Meditation): Sitting in stillness, even when it was uncomfortable, allowed me to witness my grief rather than be consumed by it. I've meditated every day so far this year, and although sometimes I haven't concentrated for more than 30 seconds, the nightly practice has been so soothing. To me, it's been less about how perfect my practice is and more about marking the fact that I've made it through another day without my friend.
Santosha (Contentment): I learned to sit with what is—allowing sadness, allowing joy, and not forcing myself to feel any particular way. In the early stages of my loss, so many people told me to "go gently," and that's what this is to me. I've let myself cry. I've said no to invitations. I've eaten lots of chocolate. I've eaten lots of salad. I've allowed myself to follow my heart wherever it takes me.
Ishvarapranidhana (Surrender): Letting go of the need to control my emotions and trusting that healing happens in its own time.
And then, last night, I had a moment that solidified everything. I went to see The Huxleys, an Australian performance artist duo who often play with gender in their work. I love drag—the artistry, the performance, the way drag allows people to express who they truly are, free from the constraints of society’s expectations. As I sat there, captivated, I realised: This is yoga too.
In that space, those performers embodied their truth. They shed the layers of expectation and stepped fully into who they were meant to be. And as I watched, I felt something shift in me—I felt free. I felt like myself. I felt joy. And I understood, in a way I never had before, that yoga is not just something we practice on the mat. It is in every moment where we allow ourselves to fully be.
Grief, joy, self-discovery—it’s all part of the same path. Yoga is not about reaching some perfect state; it is about returning to who we already are, again and again. And sometimes, we find that return in meditation, in movement, in breath. And sometimes, we find it in a drag show, watching someone shine in their fullest expression.
So, if you’ve been feeling lost, if you’ve been waiting for the moment you feel like yourself again—know that it will come. And it might arrive in a way you never expected. Just keep breathing. Keep moving. Keep opening to the possibility that joy is waiting for you, just around the corner.
