The yoga sessions

The May sun filtered gently through the large bay windows of the small studio, bathing the room in warm, soothing light. Around ten rugs were rolled out on the light parquet floor, and the Sunday morning session had just ended. A gentle torpor, a feeling of inner peace still floated in the air, carried by the discreet scent of incense and the respectful silence of the participants who slowly put away their belongings.

In the center of the room, Amélie was smiling. Just a few years ago, she would never have imagined she could guide others to this state of calm in this way. Yoga had initially been her own lifeline, an anchor in the storm of an overly intense professional life that had brought her to the brink of exhaustion. This path of reconstruction, this rediscovery of herself through postures, breathing and meditation, had been such a revelation that she naturally wanted to share it. His small studio, nestled in the heart of the old town of Annecy, had become a haven for many.

That morning, among the familiar faces, there was a new one, that of Thomas, a long-time friend of his companion. Thomas was an architect, talented but visibly overworked, his features drawn, his gaze shifty. He had come a little backwards, driven by polite curiosity more than by real conviction. Throughout the session, Amélie had felt him tense, his body resisting stretching, his mind visibly elsewhere, probably already back on the plans for his latest project.

As he rolled up his mat with a certain stiffness, she approached him.

“So, Thomas, this first experience?” she asked with her characteristic gentleness.

He smiled a little tensely. "Interesting... a little slow for me, maybe. I have a hard time... switching off. My brain never stops." He patted his head in annoyance. “Especially at the moment, with the competition for the new media library. The pressure is enormous.”

Amélie nodded, fully understanding what he was describing. She had experienced these same hellish mental workings. “It’s normal at first,” she said. "The mind is like a muscle, it needs training to learn how to settle down. Yoga is not only about the flexibility of the body, it is above all about learning to observe what is happening within us, without judgment. Welcoming the flow of thoughts, then gently letting them pass, like clouds."

She invited him to sit with her on the cushions near the window, offering a steaming herbal tea. Outside, the lake sparkled, framed by the mountains still capped with a few snowfields.

"When I started," Amélie continued, "I was exactly like you. I thought that meditating was emptying my mind. Impossible! And then I understood that it was more about creating a space inside. A space where we can breathe, even when everything is moving around. The postures, the breath, these are tools to help us find this space."

Thomas listened, a little less defensive. He took a sip of herbal tea. "A space... I could really use it. I feel like I'm suffocating under the responsibilities, the expectations. I don't sleep well, I'm irritable."

“Yoga is not going to make your responsibilities disappear, nor the pressure of the competition,” Amélie explained. "But it can teach you to face it differently. To find moments of pause, even in the heart of the action. To better listen to your body, your limits. Sometimes, the best solution to a complex problem does not come by persisting with it, but by taking a step back, letting the mind calm down so that intuition can emerge."

She remembered her own battles, how simply focusing on her breathing for a few minutes could defuse anxiety attacks, how regular practice had restored energy she thought was lost. It was not a miracle solution, but a patient journey, a gentle discipline.

"I'm not saying it's easy," she added. "It takes perseverance. But maybe this 'slowing down' you felt is just what a part of you needs?"

Thomas looked out the window, his gaze lingering on the calm landscape. A slight sigh escaped his lips. "Maybe so," he admitted quietly. "I...I'm willing to try again, if you think it will help me."

A sincere smile lights up Amélie’s face. It was just the beginning, a small seed planted. But she knew from experience that even the smallest seed, if given a little light and attention, could grow and transform an interior landscape. Yoga continued its work, discreetly, one person at a time, bringing a little breath where it was lacking.

The days following this first session saw Thomas return to Amélie's studio, at first with a somewhat forced regularity, as if it were a new task to check off on a long list. He often arrived at the last minute, his phone still attached to his ear, his mind visibly cluttered with sketches, structural calculations and the sleepless nights imposed on him by the competition for the media library. The first sessions were difficult for him. His body, knotted by months of tension, protests. His mind wandered constantly, returning to technical constraints, to criticism from his associates, to the fear of failure.

Amélie, with infinite patience, made no reproaches to him. She welcomed him with the same gentle smile, corrected a posture with delicacy, recalled the importance of breath as of an anchor. Sometimes, after a session where he felt particularly awkward or distracted, he would almost apologize. “I'm not sure I'm cut out for this, Amélie,” he confided to her one evening, while he was helping her put away some cushions. “I feel like I’m wasting my time while my competitors are moving forward.”

“The time you spend refocusing is never wasted, Thomas,” she replied quietly, lighting a small candle whose flame began to dance. "Think of a bow. If it is always stretched to the maximum, it ends up losing its strength, or even breaking. In order for it to be able to throw the arrow with power, it needs moments of relaxation, of flexibility." She pauses. “You build buildings so that people feel good, safe, inspired. But have you thought about building this space of well-being inside yourself?”

These words made their way. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, something begins to change in Thomas. He noticed that after the sessions, even though he felt physically tired, a certain mental clarity would set in. The insoluble problems of the day before sometimes appear to him in a new, less overwhelming light. He began to apply, almost instinctively, certain breathing techniques when he felt stress building before an important meeting.

One afternoon, when he was stuck on a major difficulty in the design of the facade of the media library, instead of working on his computer or having multiple coffees, he found himself closing his eyes, concentrating on his breathing, as Amélie taught them. He did not seek the solution, just to calm the inner tumult. A few minutes later, upon opening his eyes, a simple and elegant idea, which he had not thought of, emerged naturally. It was not a lightning revelation, but rather as if a slight shift in his perception had been enough to illuminate a blind spot.

He also began to observe the other participants in the studio. There was this elderly lady who, despite her joint pain, practiced with impressive grace and serenity. This very athletic young man who was obviously trying to channel boundless energy. Everyone seemed to find something different, a personal response to an intimate need. Yoga was not a single mold, but a path with many paths.

The day of the oral presentation of his project for the media library arrived. The previous night, contrary to his habits during times of intense stress, Thomas had managed to get a few hours of restful sleep. Before entering the jury room, he took a few moments to isolate himself, close his eyes, and find that point of inner calm that he was beginning to tame. He didn't feel invincible, or certain of winning, but he felt present, grounded. He presents his project with quiet confidence, a controlled passion which surprised even his collaborators.

A few weeks later, while walking by the lake with Amélie's companion, he confided: "You know, I don't know yet if I will have this competition. But that's no longer the only thing that matters. Amélie... and her yoga... it opened up another perspective for me." He looked at the mountains reflected in the water. "I'm learning to build differently. Not just buildings, but maybe a little bit of myself too."

Amélie, for her part, observed these little transformations with discreet joy. She knew that the path of yoga was a never-ending journey, a constant exploration. Each person who walked through the door of his studio brought their own story, their own challenges. And each time, she was amazed to see how this ancestral practice could still, and always, offer keys to navigating the complexities of modern life, bringing a little more awareness and peace, one breath at a time.