The soft hum of the morning fills the room—birds singing outside, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant sound of a neighbor starting their day. I’m sitting cross-legged on my mat, the ocean-blue fabric beneath me smooth and cool to the touch. The light filters in through the curtains like a gentle sunrise kiss.
You’re here with me. It’s just us. No rush, no noise, no demands. Just breath, movement, and the delicious stillness in between.
Let’s begin with a deep inhale through the nose. Slowly. Feel your lungs open like sails catching a soft breeze. Now exhale through the mouth, letting the tension roll away like waves sliding back into the sea.
We start in Seated Mountain Pose. Straight spine, crown of the head reaching up as if the sunlight wants to touch it. Shoulders melt away from the ears. Place your hands gently on your knees, palms down for grounding. Notice the weight of your body being supported by the earth beneath you.
inhale… and exhale.
From here, slowly roll your shoulders in gentle circles, forward first. Feel each joint waking up. Then reverse. Imagine painting soft ripples in the air with your shoulders.
We move into Side Body Stretch. Place your left hand on the mat beside you, right arm sweeping up and over like you’re tracing the arc of a rainbow. Feel the side of your body elongate, each rib softly expanding. A deep breath here… then switch sides. Let your spine move like water—fluid, unhurried.
The floor beneath us feels grounded and strong, yet it carries the softness of the mat, making each shift of weight smooth and supported.
Now, gently come onto all fours—Tabletop Position. Place your hands directly under your shoulders, knees under hips. Spread your fingers wide, pressing into the mat with a steady but gentle firmness.
We flow into Cat–Cow. Inhale, dropping the belly, lifting the chest, and letting your gaze drift up. Your spine curves like a wave swelling toward the shore. Exhale, rounding the back, tucking chin to chest, and letting your tailbone curl under. Feel the breath move the shape of your body. We repeat, slowly, like tides moving in and out.
Your breath has its own sound here—soft, steady, whisper-like. This is your body’s ocean.
From Tabletop, tuck your toes and lift your hips toward the sky into Downward-Facing Dog. The first one always feels like a stretch you’ve been waiting for all night. Pedal out the feet gently, one heel reaching toward the mat, then the other. Your spine lengthens, your arms strong yet soft in their support.
Take a few slow breaths here, eyes resting on a single point—maybe your knees, maybe the mat, maybe the space between your feet.
On your next inhale, walk your feet toward your hands. Let your upper body drape forward into Ragdoll Fold. Bend your knees as much as you need. The crown of your head is heavy, arms swaying like seaweed under gentle waves. Release tension in the neck, jaw, and even behind the eyes.
Roll up slowly, vertebra by vertebra, until you’re standing tall in Mountain Pose. Feet hip-width apart, toes spread gently. Feel the ground anchoring you.
Now we’ll flow through a gentle Sun Salutation—soft, mindful, and steady.
- Inhale, arms sweep overhead, fingertips reaching for the sky.
- Exhale, fold forward, letting the arms hang loose.
- Inhale, half-lift, back flat, crown reaching forward.
- Exhale, fold again.
- Step back into Plank Pose, shoulders over wrists, body in one strong line.
- Lower knees, chest, and chin softly to the mat.
- Inhale, slide forward into Baby Cobra, chest lifting gently, elbows close.
- Exhale, tuck toes, hips lift back into Downward Dog.
Breathe here. Feel the rhythm. We repeat this once more, softer, slower.
After our second Downward Dog, we gently lower knees to the mat, shifting back into Child’s Pose. Arms reach forward, forehead rests on the mat. If it feels good, sway your hips side to side. The quiet here is like the stillness before the tide changes.
From Child’s Pose, we rise onto our knees and step the right foot forward into Low Lunge. Sink the hips gently, keeping the spine tall. Inhale, arms reaching overhead, palms facing each other. You might feel the front of the left hip begin to open. A warm, slow release. Switch sides when ready.
We move into Seated Forward Fold. Extend your legs in front of you, toes pointing up. Inhale, reach your arms high; exhale, fold forward, hinging at the hips. Let your hands land wherever they comfortably reach—shins, ankles, or feet. This stretch isn’t about how far you can go—it’s about how deeply you can breathe into where you are.
Next, Seated Twist. Bend your right knee, step the foot outside your left thigh. Right hand behind you, left elbow gently crossing over the right knee. Inhale to lengthen the spine, exhale to twist a little deeper. Switch sides. Each twist feels like ringing out the body, letting go of yesterday.
We’ll close with a gentle Supine Stretch Sequence. Lie on your back, hug your knees to your chest. Rock gently side to side. Draw circles with your knees. Then extend your right leg long, hugging the left knee into your chest. Guide it across your body into a Supine Twist. Your gaze can drift to the opposite hand. Switch sides when you’re ready.
Finally, we enter Savasana. Let your body rest fully, arms and legs soft. Palms open to the ceiling. Your breath finds its natural rhythm. Notice how the mat holds you, how the floor supports you without asking anything in return.
Stay here as long as you wish. You might hear the ocean in your own breath, the sound rolling in and out, timeless.
When you’re ready to return, wiggle your fingers and toes, stretch your arms overhead, and roll to one side in a fetal position. Press yourself slowly back to a seated posture.
Hands to heart center.
One last deep inhale… and gentle exhale.
Namaste.
In this flow, we didn’t just stretch our muscles—we stretched our presence. We gave ourselves time to listen to the tiny details: the sound of our breath, the sensation of the mat, the quiet between each movement. That’s the magic of slow yoga—it’s as much about awareness as it is about flexibility.
Whether you practiced in a warm sunlit room, on a balcony with the sea breeze, or in the quiet comfort of your bedroom, you carried the ocean within you. Every wave of breath, every ripple of movement, a reminder that peace is not found by chasing—it’s found by staying.
So as you leave the mat today, remember this:
The world will keep moving fast. But your breath? That’s your anchor. The ocean is always with you.
