Yin Yoga: A Love Letter
Lately, I’ve been craving slowness. The kind of slowness that seeps into your bones and makes you remember who you were before the rush. Enter: Yin Yoga.
This practice didn’t just stretch my body—it softened my nervous system. It gave me the deep breath I didn’t know I was holding. Yin created the stillness and space my body needed to speak —it’s messages and memories, it’s truth, and it’s ability to support my emotional healing. Yin taught me to quiet the noise and simply listen. And honestly? I fell in love. Slowly, then all at once.
What Is Yin Yoga, Really
Yin Yoga is a practice of slowing down and softening into the deeper layers of the body. It works by gently opening the dense, less flexible tissues—like fascia, joints, and connective tissue—through long-held postures and conscious stillness. To truly benefit from Yin, it’s important to turn inward and pay attention. This is a time to listen to your body—not to force or fix, but to observe what’s there. Sensation, emotion, thought—they all rise to the surface. And in this space, we practice meeting what comes up, then letting it go. That letting go is the essence of non-attachment, and it reminds us that we already have what we need within us.
In our culture, there’s a strong preference for Yang energy—fast-paced, goal-driven, and constantly doing. Productivity is praised. Rest is often seen as laziness. We’re taught to measure our worth by how much we can achieve, how quickly we can move, and how well we can keep up. This constant output comes at a cost. Without time to pause and replenish, we become disconnected from our bodies, dysregulated in our nervous systems, and overwhelmed by the pressure to stay “on” all the time. We are distracted at all times from what is happening in our body, allowing our minds to control the show. No wonder we wake at 2AM to the Ego chatter of the to-do list. When we never slow down, our bodies forget that rest is safe. We have bypassed our natural cycles and rhythms. And, while we do have a need to conform some to the socially acceptable frameworks and structures of dates and time, we don’t have to forego listening to our bodies and leaning into intuition and rest.
Yin offers the balance. It’s not about doing more—it’s about creating space to feel what’s already there. It’s a reminder that growth doesn’t only happen in motion; it also happens in stillness, in recovery, and in the quiet in-between moments where we can actually hear ourselves again. Yin helps bring balance not only to our yoga practice, but to our nervous system and daily life.
Yin can be uncomfortable. You might meet resistance or restlessness. The mind may get bored or distracted. That’s normal. Staying present is part of the work. When we commit to stillness, we let time do its job. Over time, tension begins to release, and we naturally open into deeper layers.
Where Did Yin Yoga Come From?
Like most sacred practices, Yin Yoga didn’t come from one person or one place—it evolved. It’s a modern expression rooted in ancient wisdom, shaped by multiple teachers and traditions. Its foundation lies in Taoist philosophy, which teaches us about the dynamic balance of yin and yang, the flow of qi (life force), and the cycles of nature and the elements. In Taoist movement practices, stillness is just as powerful as action—sometimes more so.
Paulie Zink, a martial artist and Taoist yoga teacher, began blending long-held floor poses into his training to develop flexibility and energetic flow. His unique approach—known then as "Taoist Yoga"—was deeply intuitive, combining physicality with animal-based movement, energy work, and internal alchemy.
From there, Paul Grilley, a student of Zink, brought in a strong focus on anatomy and Chinese Medicine. He emphasized the role of fascia, bone structure, and individual skeletal variation—reminding us that not all poses look the same in every body. He also leaned into meridian theory and how Yin postures affect the energetic systems of the body.
Sarah Powers, a student of Grilley, brought the final layer: mindfulness and emotional depth. She integrated Buddhist meditation, breath awareness, and psycho-emotional processing into the practice. Her work helped shape Yin into the deeply meditative, introspective style that resonates so widely today.
What we now call “Yin Yoga” is a blend of Taoist energetics, anatomical wisdom, and mindful presence. It’s still evolving, still deepening—and that’s part of what makes it so potent. It’s not just a style. It’s a path back to the self.
Why We Need Yin Now More Than Ever
We live in a culture that rewards hustle, glorifies busyness, and often confuses exhaustion with accomplishment. It’s Yang energy on overdrive—scrolling, striving, over-scheduling. Our systems are stuck in “on,” and our bodies are paying the price. Yin offers a quieter path—not as an escape, but as a return. And it’s not just about slowing down. Yin helps us re-pattern what we’ve been taught about rest, worth, and what it means to be enough. It invites us to shift from effort to ease. From performing to simply being. From constant stimulation to felt sensation.
This practice supports:
The parasympathetic nervous system—our body’s rest-and-repair mode
The fascia—our connective tissue that holds physical and emotional tension
The energetic body—meridians and channels that carry qi
The emotional body—what only surfaces when we slow down enough to feel it
In a world that’s constantly speeding up, Yin is a radical act of reclamation. In a world that demands we produce, perform, and push through, choosing stillness is an act of resistance. It’s a quiet rebellion against burnout culture—a way to rise up against the myth that our worth is tied to our output.
Yin says: You don’t have to earn your rest. It reminds us that healing doesn’t always come through doing more. Sometimes, it comes through simply being with what is.
My Personal Love Affair With Yin
I stumbled into my love affair with Yin—not through yoga, but through energy movement medicine. It all started with Laurie Fulford’s tuning fork sound healing course, where I was introduced to the power of vibration and resonance. Through that work, I discovered Donna Eden, and from there, Prune Harris—and suddenly, I was deep in the world of energy systems, subtle bodies, and the quiet intelligence of flow. I dove headfirst into meridians, acupressure points, and the ways movement—when intentional and intuitive—can shift energy through both the body and the auric field. Tuning fork therapy became a particular obsession, especially the way sound and frequency can clear blockages and bring the system back into harmony. (That, my friends, is a post in its own rite.)
At the time, I had already been practicing tapping for years, but I hadn’t yet connected the dots. I didn’t fully realize how all of these practices were feeding my insatiable desire to understand the body’s energetic superhighways. And then, I met Yin. It fell perfectly into place.
Yin became the bridge between everything I had been studying and sensing. It wove together energy work, nervous system regulation, and subtle body awareness into a form that felt both grounding and expansive. It was more than a modality—it was a remembering. It felt like returning to something ancient. Yin gave shape and language to what I had always known deep down:
That the body holds everything.
And when we meet it with softness—it tells its story.
When I first encountered Yin—and even restorative yoga—I had no idea what lived beneath those long-held poses. I just enjoyed the pause. The breath. The invitation to stop. But as I began to understand what Yin actually holds—fascia, meridians, emotion, deep parasympathetic regulation—something opened. Suddenly, everything I loved about energy movement, tapping, vibrational therapy, and acupoint work came together in one place. Yin wasn’t just slow yoga. It was a full-body energetic system. A practice of remembering. A practice of returning. And that gave me reverence. It deepened my love for Yin and sparked a desire to bring it into everything I do—not just as movement, but as medicine.
Now, Yin is woven through all of it.
Into my massage and bodywork.
Into my moon rituals and ceremonies.
Into how I move, how I rest, how I listen—to others, and to myself.
Yin is no longer just a practice.
It’s becoming my way of life.
🌀 Want to Explore Yin for Yourself?
I’ve created a dedicated space for all things Yin Yoga—pose guidance, energy rituals, and upcoming classes. It’s still unfolding, like the practice itself, but it’s there for you.
Yin: The Gateway of Stillness
📖Resources:
Laurie Fulford – Sound Healing & Tuning Fork Therapy
Laurie Fulford is a certified sound healing master and energy medicine educator, whose beautiful tuning fork therapy course on Udemy introduced me to the transformative power of vibration. Her clear, grounded teaching connects the science of resonance with the energetic body, weaving together meridians, frequency healing, and practical tools for self-care and practitioner work
Donna Eden – Eden Energy Medicine
One of the pioneers of modern energy medicine, Donna Eden opened the door for me to see the body as a luminous, intelligent system of flow. Her teachings helped me understand that energy wants to move—and that we can support our vitality by learning to listen and guide that movement. If you’re curious about the basics of meridians, tapping, or energy balancing, her work is a beautiful place to begin.
Prune Harris – Energy Intuition & Conscious Health
Prune’s work felt like coming home. Her approach to energy is intuitive, embodied, and deeply connected to the rhythms of nature. She bridges science and spirit with clarity and compassion, and her resources on auric fields, cycles, and energy hygiene continue to shape the way I care for myself and others.