Movement Is Joy

This past week in yoga, my teacher Veronique said something simple that stayed with me: "Movement is joy."

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how true that has been throughout my life.

For me, movement has never been just about exercise. It has been one of the ways I connect—with myself, with other people, and with the world around me. Some of my most meaningful conversations have happened while walking, riding a bike, skiing, practicing yoga, or simply being outside moving through the world alongside someone else. Movement has a way of creating space. Space to think, to process, to breathe, and sometimes to simply be.

As I reflected on Veronique's words, I found myself thinking about grief and the role movement has played during some of the hardest moments of my life.

The day after my best friend Jessica died, her husband and I went for a walk. Then we went for another walk. And then another. We walked and walked and walked.

Not because we had somewhere to go. Not because walking changed what had happened. But because sitting still felt impossible.

Looking back, I don't think either of us consciously decided that walking was what we needed. We simply started moving. The movement gave us something to do with our grief. It gave us time to talk, to remember, to cry, and sometimes to sit quietly when there was nothing left to say. In a moment when everything felt overwhelming, putting one foot in front of the other was enough.

Over the years, I have seen this happen again and again. When people are grieving, overwhelmed, uncertain, or carrying something heavy, there is often a natural pull toward movement. A walk around the block. A bike ride. A yoga class. Time spent in a garden. Not because movement fixes anything, but because it reconnects us to ourselves. It reminds us that we are still here. Still breathing. Still connected to the people and places around us. Still moving forward, even when life feels unimaginably difficult.

In my work, I spend a lot of time talking about presence. We often think of presence as something quiet and still, but I have come to believe that movement can be one way we find it. Sometimes presence is found sitting beside someone. Sometimes it is found holding a hand. And sometimes it is found walking down a trail, riding a bike down a country road, or stepping onto a yoga mat and taking a breath.

Movement will not take away our grief, solve our problems, or provide certainty when life feels uncertain. But it can carry us through difficult moments in a way that few other things can. It gives us a place to put our energy, our sorrow, our gratitude, and our hope.

Perhaps that is part of what Veronique meant when she said, "Movement is joy."

Not because movement means happiness.

But because movement reminds us that we are alive, connected, and still capable of engaging fully with the life in front of us.