Side by Side: The first in our "Told Stories" series
Side by Side
By Nicola Colville
Lise
Some people come into our lives with great fanfare. Others begin walking beside us and, over time, become woven into our days.
Listening to Louise and Lise tell their story, it almost became difficult to know where one life ended and the other began.
One would begin a memory, the other would quietly finish it. One would pause to find the right word, the other would gently offer it.
Sometimes they laughed before the story had even reached its punchline. Sometimes they fell silent together, allowing a memory to settle before continuing.
It wasn’t rehearsed. It wasn’t polished. It was simply the language of two people who have spent many years walking through life together.
And perhaps that is where their story truly begins. Not with yoga. With companionship.
Long before Luna Yoga became part of their lives, yoga had already found its way into
Lise’s heart.
Louise
At twenty-one, she entered an ashram, where she spent five years studying Kundalini Yoga under the teachings of Yogi Bhajan. She became a teacher herself, and those years shaped her in ways that continue to ripple through her life today. Even after leaving the ashram at twenty-six, the practice never really left her. It simply changed form. Later, she became a meditation teacher, carrying the same quiet thread of awareness into the next chapter of her life.
Louise’s journey looked very different. After being diagnosed with osteoarthritis in her back a couple of years ago, her doctor suggested a series of exercises to help ease the pain. Looking over them together, Lise smiled, “You know, these are all yoga poses.” It was the kind of moment that seems ordinary while it is happening, and only later begins to feel significant.
Their first encounter with Luna Yoga has already become one of those stories they tell with laughter. Walking along the street, Lise suggested they stop in.
Louise thought Luna Yoga was a boutique.
Instead, they found something neither of them had gone looking for. They found a place that would quietly become woven into the rhythm of their lives.
It would be easy to think this is the point where their story becomes a yoga story. It isn’t. It is a story about finding somewhere they could both be completely themselves.
As they spoke about Luna, I noticed something. Neither woman began by describing the classes. Or the poses. Or even the practice itself.
They spoke about the welcome. They remembered the kindness of the person who greeted them at the front desk. They remembered feeling seen before they had even stepped beyond reception into the studio.
It seems like such a small thing. And yet, how many of us can remember the first time we felt that we truly belonged somewhere?
That feeling never left them.
As the months became years, Sunday mornings quietly became something they no longer questioned. Every weekend, they would arrive together. Roll out their mats.
Louise on one side. Lise on the other. Always side by side.
It wasn’t simply something they did each week. It has become part of who they are.
Louise smiled as she described it. "We never question whether we’re going to yoga. It is simply how they begin their weekend. Together.
Listening to them, I realized that yoga had become much more than a weekly class. For Louise, it had become an attitude. A way of meeting life.
She spoke about waking in the middle of the night and hearing the familiar voice of one of her teachers reminding her, "Just breathe."
At first, those words belonged to the studio. Over time, they became part of her life.
When difficult days arrived, she found herself returning to them. Just breathe.
Everything will pass.
The practice had quietly followed her home.
Lise described something similar.
When they say, “Take with you what the session gave you” it works! The day after and the day after and the day after."
Then she paused. “That’s why I want to come back again and again and again.” There was no urgency in her voice. Only gratitude.
Perhaps that is because, after a lifetime of yoga, she had discovered something she hadn’t expected. Joy.
She had lived in an ashram. She had taught yoga. She had spent decades immersed in spiritual practice. Yet she looked at me and revealed something wonderfully unexpected.
“Since joining Luna, it’s the first time in my life that I have fun practicing yoga.”
I have thought about that many times since our conversation.
There is something deeply moving about discovering that even after all these years. there is still another way to experience something you thought you already knew. Lise described Luna as real. Authentic. True.
“The teachers don’t show their knowing,” she said. “They just live it.”
She did not say this as praise for a teaching style. She said it as someone who had felt its sincerity.
As our conversation continued, another theme emerged. Not flexibility. Not strength.
Touch.
After the years of distance brought about by the pandemic, Lise described what it felt like when a teacher gently placed a hand on her during practice.
“It was so healing,” she said.
Not because of the adjustment itself. Because someone had reached out without hesitation. Because, after so much distance, she felt human connection again. It struck me that this was not the only time healing arrived through another person.
When Louise suffered a serious pelvic fracture, life changed overnight.
For months she could no longer come to class. She would drive Lise to the studio and wait outside. Sometimes she cried. Not because she couldn't exercise. Because she missed being there.
She missed the Luna Yoga community. She missed the simple ritual of beginning her weekend beside the person she loved.
During that time, one of the teachers sent a message inviting her back to class. Louise was welcome in class, whether or not she could practice. She could simply come and sit in the room.
That invitation has stayed with her ever since. It spoke of a deeper understanding of yoga. One that had nothing to do with movement. Sometimes the practice is simply allowing someone to know they still belong.
Louise told me that throughout her recovery she knew intentions were being held for her. Among them was Lise’s. She smiled as she remembered it.” I knew she was setting an intention for me.”
That knowledge became part of her healing. Not because an intention could mend a broken pelvis. But because love has a remarkable way of strengthening hope.
When Louise finally returned to practice, both women cried. Neither apologized for the tears. They didn’t need to. Some moments are too full for words.
Lise’s own journey has also been shaped by seasons of profound challenge.
When she spoke about yoga saving her life at twenty-one, there was no drama in her voice. Only gratitude.
Later, she spoke about supporting her daughter through a difficult chapter. Once again, she found herself returning to the mat. And once again, yoga became a place where she could breathe, surrender, and continue.
“When Louise was injured,”; she said, “my intention was always dedicated to her. Now my intention is always for my daughter.”
I don’t think she realized how much those words revealed about her. They spoke of a woman whose way of loving is to carry others with quiet devotion without asking to be seen.
Towards the end of our conversation, I asked them what yoga had taught them.
Louise spoke about breathing through discomfort.
Lise spoke about learning to trust her body more than the fearful stories her mind created.
One question a teacher once posed continues to stay with her. “What stops you?”
She no longer feels compelled to answer it immediately. Simply asking the question creates space. Space for curiosity. Space for compassion. Space for possibility.
Perhaps that is what yoga has been offering both of them all along. Not answers.
Space.
Space to heal. Space to grieve. Space to laugh. Space to grow older without feeling old.
At one point, Lise smiled as she said something I hope she never forgets.
“I know there’s a place where I’m young forever. Yoga helps me feel young inside. In my mind. In my heart. In my body.”
As Luna Yoga celebrates twenty-three years, I invited them to reflect on what they wished for its future.
Louise didn’t speak about expansion or success. She spoke about the world.
"“The world needs more than ever to be together, to feel grounded.”
Her hope was simple and all the more powerful for it. “May Luna continue to be that place.”
Lise's wish was equally simple yet deeply felt. “Never forget love and respect.”
Love. Respect. Abundance. Not only of people, but of kindness. Of generosity. Of joy.
As our conversation drew to a close, Lise reminded me of something I had almost forgotten.
Months earlier, during class, she had been coughing. I had brought her a glass of water.
To me, it was a simple gesture. To her, it was so much more.
She asked me not to leave it out of this story.
I wondered why. Perhaps because it wasn’t really about the water. Perhaps it was simply another reminder that we are all changed by small acts of care.
Looking back now, I don’t think Louise and Lise’s story is remarkable because they found yoga. Many people find yoga. Their story is remarkable because they found a way to keep choosing one another.
Week after week. Season after season. Through laughter and injury. Through uncertainty and healing. Through ordinary Sundays that quietly become the fabric of their lives. Always side by side.
That is what moved me most of all. Long after the conversation ended, I realized I had not been listening to two people describe their yoga practice.
I had been listening to two people describe a life built with intention. A life shaped by kindness. A life strengthened by community. A life made richer because, somewhere along the way, they found a place that welcomed them exactly as they were.
And in that place, they continued doing what they had already been doing for so many years. Walking through life together. Side by side.
