Dear Beginner, You Already Belong

by Nicola Colville

A while ago, I started attending lunchtime yoga classes a couple of times a week from the office — a simple act of self-care in the midst of a workday. What I didn’t expect was the ripple it would create.Conversations started. Questions were asked. What studio do you go to? What kind of yoga is it? Why do you practice yoga?

There was one colleague whose curiosity stood out — she kept asking the kinds of questions that reveal both intrigue and a quiet yearning to understand what yoga really is.

In a recent conversation, she shared that she’d never practiced yoga. In that moment, I was reminded of how it feels to be at the very beginning of something new. No matter how long we’ve been practicing, there was a first class for all of us. A first breath. A first brave step into the unknown.

As someone who has been practicing yoga for almost 13 years and recently completed my teacher training at Luna Yoga — an experience I wholeheartedly recommend — that moment landed deeply in my heart. It brought me back to the beginning of my own journey and made me reflect on how far the practice has carried me. Because this is the gift of yoga, it’s not just what we do on the mat. It’s how we show up, quietly, consistently. And without even realizing it, we start creating ripples.

Ripples of curiosity.
Ripples of courage.
Ripples of connection.

So, if you’ve been showing up — for yourself, for your practice — know this: You may be inspiring someone in ways you don’t even realize. Your practice, just as it is, might be the quiet encouragement someone else needs to take that first step. Sometimes, by staying true to our own path, we light the way for others and become a doorway – a gentle invitation someone was waiting for. And so, to the beginner, to the curious heart, to anyone who’s been hovering at the edge of curiosity, wondering what it might feel like to begin — this letter,“ From Yoga with Love,” is for you. Because sometimes, the words we need most are the ones whispered by the practice itself.

Dear Beginner,

I know you’ve been wondering about me —
peeking in from the edges,
asking what I’m like and what we might discover together.

I’ve been here, quietly waiting — without expectation.
I’ve heard your questions, felt your curiosity
about what it might be like to step onto the mat for the first time.

I know that space — the in-between —
where something calls you, even if you’re not quite sure why.

You don’t need to be flexible.
Or strong.
Or know my language.
You don’t need to earn your place.

You already belong.

All I ask is that you arrive as you are.
Bring your breath. Bring your questions.
Bring your beautiful, human self.

We’ll take it one moment at a time.
I’ll hold space for the awkwardness, the wobbling, the unexpected joy.
And little by little, I’ll show you —
What matters most isn’t how you look, but how you feel.

Some days I’ll meet you with movement, with strength, with stillness.
Other days, with rest, with release, with surrender.
All of it is welcome.
All of it is the practice.

This isn’t about touching your toes.
It’s about coming home to yourself — again and again.

I’m not here to change you.
I’m here to remind you who you already are.

Whenever you’re ready,
I’ll be here.

With love,
Yoga