The Heart of the Matter
by Nicola Colville
February arrives with its familiar focus on hearts — red ones in shop windows, chocolate ones in boxes, and the reminder that Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. It’s a month that often invites us to think about love, usually in relation to someone else. But when we step onto our mats, the conversation tends to shift. The heart of the matter becomes something quieter, deeper, and far more personal.
In yoga, the heart shows up in many ways. There’s the physical heart, steadily doing its work as we move through class, responding to effort, stillness, and breath. There’s the heart center — the space around the chest — that we gently open in backbends, protect in moments of vulnerability, and soften into during savasana. And then there’s the emotional heart: the part of us that carries joy, grief, patience, resistance, and everything in between.
Our mats become the place where all of this meets. No matter what kind of day we’ve had, the mat holds space for us exactly as we are. Some days we arrive energized and open; other days we arrive tired, distracted, or heavy-hearted. The practice doesn’t ask us to change that — only to notice it. That, in itself, is an act of care.
In a community-based studio like Luna Yoga, the heart of the matter also extends beyond the individual mat. It’s in the shared energy of the room, the familiar faces, the quiet nods of recognition, and the collective breath that moves through class. Even when we practice side by side silently, there’s a sense of connection — a reminder that while yoga is deeply personal, it is never truly solitary.
Valentine’s Day can sometimes come with expectations: to show love in a certain way, to be more, do more, feel more. Yoga offers a different invitation. It asks us to return to the basics — to breath, to presence, to self-compassion. To consider how we show up for ourselves before worrying about how we show up for others.
Perhaps that’s the real heart of the matter: remembering that love doesn’t have to be loud or performative. It can be as simple as rolling out your mat, taking a deep breath, and giving yourself permission to be where you are. From that place, everything else — connection, kindness, and community — naturally follows.
So, this February, may your practice be a gentle reminder that the heart isn’t something to chase. It’s something to come home to, again and again, right there on the mat.
Namaste
Nix
