I first experienced yoga at the age of 8, under a canopy of trees at a bluegrass music festival in the Yosemite Valley of California. Cliché? Maybe. But with sweet fiddle music drifting through the air and mud covering my feet I came into my very first downward dog. Was I hooked immediately? Definitely not. I couldn’t touch my toes, I couldn’t focus on my ujjayi breath, and the idea of “breathing through my pelvic floor” was too silly for me to even comprehend, let alone try. At first I would only do yoga if my friends were doing it too, and even then we giggled and cracked jokes the entire time (disclaimer, my mom and I still crack jokes when we go to yoga classes together) and I never paid too much attention to the actual rhythm and flow of the movements. But as I got older, and my stress levels rose, I began to go with my mom to yoga classes once or twice a week at the local studio.

As a high school student, grades, boys, friends, and sports (not necessarily in that order, mind you) were always on my mind and often stress producing. I would blow a situation like a failed test way out of proportion, and find myself anxious and short-tempered more often than I would’ve liked to admit. Yoga became a way to ground myself, physically and mentally. The idea of spending an entire hour thinking only about my breath, my body, and my practice, may have seemed like a waste of time at first, but it quickly became a mental safe haven and an escape from my hectic life. There was a time when I would go to yoga 3-4 times per week and I was in the best shape (physically and maybe even mentally) I have ever been. I learned to take the calming mentality that I found on the mat, into my life outside the yoga studio, which helped me to lower my stress levels and learn to appreciate the smaller things in life.

But as college apps rolled around, and relationships and friends came and went, I found myself drifting away from my practice. If I had a free hour, I preferred to spend it with my boyfriend at the time or getting “real exercise” by going for a run or working out in the gym. And while none of those things are bad or should be condemned, I lost the peace and balance yoga gave me.

When I came to college I promised myself (and my mom) that I would rekindle my passion for yoga. I brought my mat and I joined the yoga club but I never made it to a single yoga class. My excuse? I didn’t know where the classes were held, although if I had had any drive at all, I probably could have figure it out within five minutes. The real reason may have had to do with shyness, uncertainty as to what my practice would feel like here at school compared to the comfort and familiarity of my studio back home, or just plain laziness, but all of that changed when my friend Molly invited me to go to a yoga class her friend was teaching a couple of weeks ago. I jumped at the opportunity, not only because I wanted to spend more time with my new friend, but also because I had just realized that I only had a little over a month until my freshman year was over and I still had not made it to one yoga class. So we went, and guess what? The yoga studio was probably 100 feet from my dorm room. I kid you not. It had been there all along and I had not managed to get my butt out of bed and onto the mat. Man alive! I must say, I felt a little uncertain at first. I had never practiced with any of these people before, or been taught by anyone under thirty so it was with bated ujjayi breath that I began my college yoga experience. It was wonderful. The class was the perfect mix of flow yoga and more fixed poses and ended in a peaceful shavsana or final resting pose.

Since this class, I have gone to almost every one offered, experiencing the different teaching styles of my peers and being awed by their dedication and welcomeness to me and the practice. Even as I write this, I am in my yoga clothes waiting for some friends to go to class together. It is tempting to embrace the typical college lifestyle of late nights, buckets of coffee, and wild weekends and while yes, I too fall victim to these habits, yoga is a great reminder to take care of yourself; your body, your mind and your soul.

So if I could leave you with one piece of advice it would be this: get out there. Try that yoga class. Go take swing dancing lessons. Start a club. Because most of us only have four years where we can try all this crazy sh*t out, and who knows? You just might find your passion. Stay peaceful.