When my body finally softened

There’s a posture I’ve met hundreds of times.

One I usually brace for. One I try to do well.

Today, something shifted.

Not because I pushed harder — but because I stopped negotiating with it. I stayed. I breathed. I let the shape be imperfect. And slowly, almost without asking, my body softened.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t even visible.

But there was a subtle easing — a sense of being held by the posture instead of resisting it. A quiet reminder that effort isn’t always the doorway. Sometimes patience is.

I rolled up my mat feeling less accomplished, but more at ease. And that felt like enough.