Throughout my 20s, yoga became a space where I could continually define and redefine my boundaries. At first, I believed the practice was all about pushing beyond my physical limits — engaging in every single chaturanga, never skipping wheel pose. My approach to yoga mirrored the fast-paced rhythm of New York, where I lived from ages 18 to 30. Even the walk to yoga was rushed; I’d slip on my 2.5-inch heeled Chelsea boots, dark sunglasses and iced soy coffee (before oat milk was even a thing), then power-walk the 15-minute route in eight minutes just to claim my usual spot in class.

When I completed my 300-hour RYT certification, I felt ready to step into my role as a teacher, carving out a new identity as a 20-something yogi. However, this journey wasn’t without its challenges. I found myself trying to master whichever peak pose was being offered, often frustrated by my lack of hip mobility or shoulder rotation. I would contort into shapes that seemed effortless for the rest of the class, believing I needed to keep up with the ever-demanding practice.

Attending class sometimes twice a day, centering my social life around a particular teacher’s schedule and soaking in every opportunity to learn from “yoga masters” — while presenting myself as someone deeply invested in the yogic lifestyle — created a platform for me to rebel against. But what does it mean to rebel against yoga? For me, it looked like surrender. I realized that no matter how hard I tried to be the “cool downtown yoga girl” with the right spandex or most vibey playlist, I wasn’t authentically expressing who I was. This realization led me to pivot toward a different path: using yoga as a platform to support girls’ education around the world.

Photo courtesy of Jordan Ashley/Souljourn Yoga

At 27, I started my own nonprofit to raise awareness and funds for young women’s education around the world through yoga. By then, my body was already tired, but my inspiration was limitless. No longer centering my life around physically showing up as a student, my focus shifted to integrating karma yoga into my daily life. Whether teaching a training with Amazigh girls in Morocco or hosting a retreat in Cambodia to support elementary school girls, my yoga practice became more sustainable. I became more mindful about where and with whom I practiced, prioritizing teachers who embodied ethics, conduct and kindness.

Like any industry, the yoga world — and wellness as a whole — is full of smoke and mirrors. In my 20s, I got distracted by shiny things, things that seemed hip and “in,” but ultimately caused me to lose elements of myself in my attempt to fit in. Now, in my 30s, I have come to appreciate yoga in a different light. I no longer feel the need to push myself through intense asanas or chase after peak poses. Instead, I opt for a yin class during the week, staying open to how different teachers sequence and being mindful about where I practice — always supporting studios that put their community first.

My yoga practice now is about listening what my body needs in the moment. I’ve stopped trying to master handstand hops or strive for the “perfect” posture. There’s freedom in letting go of the pressure to be confident in my movements — or even in my lack of them. I’ve learned that no one cares if I skip an inversion, bind or take child’s pose. I used to think that what made me a credible teacher was how much I could “do,” but that mindset often left me feeling less than. Now, what was once a competition with myself has turned into a practice of creating safety on the mat.

As I’ve moved deeper into my 30s, my understanding of yoga has shifted — from something to perform to something to experience. I no longer define myself by the number of poses I can do, but by how I show up: mindfully, with intention and fully present, no matter what my body feels capable of that day. This change has helped me step out of a cycle of striving and self-judgment, and into a place of acceptance. Yoga is now less about what I can do and more about who I can be. By turning my attention inward rather than chasing external validation, I’ve deepened my connection to myself — and to others. In this journey, I’ve discovered a more grounded sense of authenticity that continues to guide me.

Jordan Ashley
Founder and executive director of Souljourn Yoga Foundation
instagram.com/souljournyoga/
facebook.com/SouljournYoga