I Don’t Know About Yoga but I Am Getting Better at Biology

Hello! Firstly, thank you so much for reading, commenting, sharing, or even dropping me a message on WhatsApp to share your feedback. It genuinely means a lot to me.

I’ve noticed something interesting: the posts that sprinkle in some humour—like the one I shared yesterday—seem to strike a chord.

A few of you even told me it was funny and relatable. That’s exactly why I’ve decided to journal here online: to remind us all that we’re wonderfully flawed yet capable of making tiny efforts toward progress.

Welcome to Day 4 of My 21-Day Yoga Challenge

Today’s session was all about core strength and laughter yoga. Sounds like an odd combination, right? Let me tell you, it was anything but boring.

We started by grooving to some upbeat music to shake off the midweek monotony.

Picture this: me awkwardly shuffling two steps to the left, then two steps to the right, trying to channel my inner child. Let me just say—it was fun, and I felt like a dancer (okay, maybe just in my head).

Just as I was getting into the groove and letting my inhibitions melt away, my trainer decided it was time for a curveball.

The music stopped.

Maybe the trainer was trying to teach us the essence of yoga—to remain balanced in all situations. What else could he have been aiming for by suddenly shifting from a fun-filled dance to body-crunching, breath-taking asanas?

I don’t know if I’ll ever grasp the true essence of yoga, but I’m definitely getting better at understanding my anatomy.

Out there on the yoga mat, lying on my back with my palms tucked under my glutes and both legs straight up in the air, I was trying to hold the Ardha Halasana (half plough pose) for a full minute—as per the trainer’s orders.

That’s when I had two epiphanies:

First, there’s no such thing as a “standard time.” Who are we kidding? When I thought I’d finished counting 60 seconds, the trainer casually chimed in, “27, 28, 30,…”

Second, I felt sorry for the part of my body I had been superficially calling my “stomach.” How could I have been so ignorant?

Oh, my poor stomach—I could almost hear her cry, pleading for attention. That’s when I realized she had layers: crust, mantle, and core.

The wrinkled outer surface? That was the crust. Beneath it, where I felt the occasional gurgling and rumbling, lay the mantle. But the core? That hit me hard. I had ignored it all this time.

The core felt like her soul, her inner child crying out for attention. As I struggled to keep my knees straight, legs stretched upward, I felt my stomach being crushed—and in that exact moment, I understood her layers, her complexities.

My stomach wasn’t just a body part; she was a whole world with a crust, mantle, and core.

But wait—aren’t moments of epiphany supposed to bring pure bliss, an ecstatic feeling with no pain at all? So why was I still hurting?

Oh, right. I was still holding the pose.

Time to let go… relax…

And then, after the usual winding-up asanas—which I’ve surprisingly gotten better at—we moved on to laughter yoga. It felt like rewarding a crying child with ice cream after making her do some strenuous work.

Oh, what a relief—and an absolute blast!

I’ll admit, at first, it felt a bit awkward forcing myself to laugh (or at least make laughing sounds) while my mind kept fixating on the open windows and the possibility of curious neighbours. But a few minutes in, the laughter became infectious—even through the screen.

I couldn’t help but wish I had done it with my daughter; it would’ve been so much more effortless. Maybe tomorrow.

In conclusion, today’s session was a roller coaster ride—but absolutely worth it.

If you would like to join in the fun, click on the link below. It’s ok even if you join now. Just give it a try.

21-day Yoga Challenge by Habuild

Stay you; stay awesome!

P.S. This post was first published here.