There is a concept in yoga philosophy called svādhyāya, self-study. But it's not about performance reviews, harsh critiques, or self-criticism. Svādhyāya invites us into the most intimate and important relationship we’ll ever have: the one with ourselves.

It’s the quiet practice of turning inward. Of noticing. Of observing the part of us that is breathing, feeling, sensing, beneath the roles we play and the expectations we carry, both ours and others’. It’s an invitation to meet ourselves in real-time, again and again, with honesty and compassion.

I often think of svādhyāya as a kind of sacred dating. Every time we step on the mat, whether for asana, breathwork, or meditation, we’re going on a date with ourselves. Some days, we show up open-hearted and ready. Other days, we arrive distracted, closed off, or unsure if we even want to be there. And like any meaningful relationship, how we are in that moment shapes what unfolds.

If we’re kind to ourselves, in the way we move, breathe, speak inwardly, the practice tends to respond. Our body softens. Our mind steadies. Balance might come more easily. But when we’re hard on ourselves, disconnected, or withholding presence, our practice becomes a mirror. It reflects our inner state. The breath feels shallow. The poses feel frustrating. We might catch ourselves counting the minutes, already checked out, much like being on a date with someone who hasn’t made us feel seen, or worse, someone we haven’t learned to love yet, like ourselves.

I see this in my students sometimes, too. I see a student struggling, trying to force a pose, getting frustrated with their body, their breath, their balance. And in those moments, I gently say: stop resisting… meet yourself where you are. Try to really see you. Because that's the whole point, not to conquer the posture, but to make contact with yourself. To soften the battle and open the door to real connection.

Here’s the radical thing about yoga: it doesn’t ask us to fix ourselves. It asks us to meet ourselves, as we are. Not with judgment, but with awareness. Not with demands, but with tenderness.

Because when we start to listen, to our breath, our body, our feelings, we begin to hear the truth beneath the noise. We begin to see how our inner world shapes how we move through the outer one. And with that seeing comes choice. The choice to respond instead of react. The choice to soften instead of push. The choice to stay when we want to run.

This is svādhyāya: not a practice of perfection, but of presence.

It’s what allows us to sit with our sorrow without needing to explain it. To dance with our joy without needing to hold it hostage. To notice when we’re avoiding ourselves and gently invite ourselves back.

Yoga, then, becomes less of a workout and more of a homecoming.

So the next time you come to your mat, ask yourself:
What kind of date do I want to be for myself today?
Can I be patient, curious, kind?
Can I stay, even when things get uncomfortable?

Because every breath, every movement, every pause, and every challenge is an invitation for growth and an opening to deepen the connection with yourself, and to fall in love, again and again, with the soul who has always been here: you.