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Recently, I had an unlucky incident that involved a can of chickpeas and a butter knife. I’ll spare you the bloody details of the lunchtime incident, but I ended up with two not-so-pretty cuts and no less than three layers of red tape on my middle finger and thumb. I now had an “Elmo hand,” as my friend jokingly put it.

It became next-to-impossible for me to do any form of physical yoga practice. So, I skipped yoga class for just a few weeks. What’s a few missed classes, in spite of everything?

Well, that is where I actually have to admit: I had already been neglecting my practice for no less than two weeks at this point. I had a wide range of excuses: I used to be drained; my friend bailed on me; I had just spent all day yoga content. Ultimately, I used to be spending more time outside the studio than is suitable for an editor at Yoga Journal. (Or no less than that’s what my friends jogged my memory.)

The physical practice is simply one component of yoga. Theoretically, I could still practice the opposite seven limbs. But as a loud, extroverted, fast-paced person, I find that the asana portion of the practice is what ushers in the opposite elements of the traditional practice. Within the darkened studio, when my body is challenged but still and my mind is quiet, I’m able to contemplate something like pratyahara (a withdrawal from the senses) or dharana (concentration) when prompted to achieve this by my teacher. Those moments are sacred. I struggle to copy those times outside of a conventional studio setting.

My time away from my practice proved this point—something I had been hesitant to confess to myself. I felt the ramifications. I used to be more jittery, scattered, and usually somewhat more lost in my day. Sure, I leaned on other self-care strategies—my runs along the river (my legs were good to go!), five-minute meditations, and phone calls to friends. But a small void remained.

I discovered myself taking the recommendation that I often give to friends in relationships (or most of the time, situationships): Sometimes you don’t appreciate something until it’s gone. Perhaps I actually needed a break from my physical practice to be able to realize its place and significance in my life. Once I finally returned to the heated room and my beloved mat, I used to be truly excited for the primary time shortly. It felt like I got to experience the practice for the primary time all yet again.

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