The Quiet Power of Walking Away: My Path to Authentic Movement

Have you ever looked at a situation, a class, or a moment in your life and just thought, “This isn’t it”?

For me, that feeling started early, and it was all about exercise. My relationship with moving my body began with the shrill sound of a coach’s whistle. I was in kindergarten in Texas, and I remember how the coaches would yell at us to run faster, their whistles hustling us along like cattle. Even as a small child, I knew I didn't like that feeling. My little ankles would hurt when I ran, not just from the running itself, but because my whole body would stiffen up with anxiety from being yelled at.

When my family moved to Mexico, things got even worse. The PE teachers there seemed less interested in fitness and more interested in other things. One had an unhealthy obsession with the popular girls, which always made me want to run in the opposite direction.

The worst, however, was the coach I had in 7th grade. By then, I had developed a look that I hoped screamed, "Don't even try me." I think he took that as a personal challenge. He would take out his frustrations on all the girls, publicly body shaming us in the middle of the court for everyone to see. He’d call us "fat," and while I'd always been a comfortable size 8 or 10 and liked my body, the words still stung. This shattered my self-image and confidence, and it also had a profound impact on my friends. Sending our collective nervous systems into overdrive.

My form of protest was quiet but firm. When he’d start his tirades, I would silently get up and walk away. Often, other girls would follow. I knew that if I gave in to his bullying just once, there was no telling what he’d demand next.

A glimmer of hope appeared in high school in Utah. My PE teacher there simply asked us to run a mile. He never forced us, shamed us, or yelled. He just said it was something we had to do. Because he treated me with respect, the space felt safe, and for the first time, I felt like I could finish. Around that same time, I found the key that would unlock everything.

At 16, I discovered Steve Ross's yoga show, Inhale, on the Oxygen Network. Every day after school, I’d retreat to my room, roll out a mat, and follow along. It was love at first movement. I fell in love with moving slowly, holding poses, and feeling my body gently create its own heat. Best of all, I was in my own space alone, where no one could judge me, make fun of me, or disturb my peace.

If you’ve ever done one of Steve Ross's classes, you know they are no joke! They are challenging, and I adored the challenge of holding Warrior 2, feeling my muscles burn. In my room, I wasn’t just a teenager avoiding a PE class, I felt like a warrior in training.

For the next decade, yoga was my private home practice. It wasn't until my late 20s that I stumbled upon something new: aerial yoga. My very first public & class was an "Aerial Basics" class, and it was… a disaster. I got so dizzy I had to sit on the sidelines, feeling shaken and unprepared. The instructor seemed almost annoyed that I was struggling, which threw me right back to those days on the school court. But I had seen how fun it could be, and when the studio sent a discount, I decided to give it another shot. This time, I chose an aerial yoga class with a different teacher, and that was it. I was hooked!

That second class opened up a new world. I practiced at that studio for a year, patiently figuring out how my body could master the flips and tricks that took me months to learn. I mostly avoided the first instructor, whose style was a constant reminder of my past. But strangely, I'm grateful to that first instructor for becoming my ultimate example of how not to teach.

That experience solidified my mission. I vowed to create the safe space I’d always been looking for, a place where taking a break is celebrated and no one is ever judged for listening to their body. After years of training and teaching, my heart still belongs to beginners, because I never want anyone to feel discouraged on their first try.

My teaching journey has led me through studios, gyms, pain clinics, and even corporate offices, but today I teach online. Through it all, my rule remains the same: I know who I am as a teacher. If a place, person, or situation doesn’t align with my values, I will do what I learned to do long ago.

Silently get up and Walk Away

What might look like a loss to others is the greatest gain. I've learned that following my heart isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about choosing what truly matters. That simple principle has become my compass for navigating all aspects of my life. 

Thank you for reading.

I hope to see you on the virtual mat. Check out my online offerings here!

Love Gaby Luna!