What 6 Months Of Chakra-Balancing Yoga Did For My Career

"There's this new yoga class I want to try,' my ultra-athletic friend Teagan said carefully. "It's a little...hippy-ish, but what could it hurt? Want to go with me?"

Teagan looked up at me from beneath her bangs hopefully. The rest of her hair was slicked back with sweat, and a constellation of sweat patches formed on the front of her T-shirt. Teagan's the kind of person who runs races through swamps for an adrenaline hit. She thinks CrossFit is fun.

I could already imagine the type of "yoga" Teagan would lure me into. But when she explained she'd been suffering from migraines and neck pain from her usual exercise go-to's and was looking for a gentler workout, I decided to check it out. After all, I'd been stagnant with my own exercise routine, among other things, for a while.

The first half of chakra yoga is always dedicated to the lower three chakras, or the root, sacral, and solar plexus. This is where most people tend to hold on to fear, trauma, or anger, and that clogged energy tends to show up in the very foundation of our bodies—our bones, joints, tissues, and vital organs. To balance these chakras, we worked through demanding planks, hip-openers, and flows that focused our attention on our lower belly (including lots of ab work...ugh).

Slowly, my core got stronger and those hip-openers were no longer excruciating.

After all that lower-body work, the class moved into heart and throat openers. I pushed my chest toward the ceiling in camel pose and bridges of varying intensity. I stretched my throat toward those dangling light bulbs in fish pose while I pushed air from the back of my throat.

About three months into this chakra-balancing practice, I stalled on the book proposal and took a break from essay writing. At first, I couldn't figure out where all my newfound mojo had gone, but then it hit me: My body was no longer going to allow me to work out of alignment with my authentic self. While writing for publication had been a great introductory experience, I realized I also needed to be working on my own content—the books, guides, and marketing materials that drive my writing retreat business. To do that work of my heart, I'd have to use my voice to set some clear boundaries.

Each class ends with an extended meditation session. The lights are dimmed, the music dips, and the instructors gently massage the essential oil of the day into each student's temples and neck. In some sessions, an instructor may suggest an affirmation to meditate on, and in others we sit in silence. The class always ends with a unifying chant and well wishes for the rest of the day.

The answer: Absolutely.