I am an enthusiastic, negligent gardener. My garden is not a paradise; it is a daily quest for survival. This rough and tumble world even includes two often tempermental orchids. These purple beauties live above my bathtub. They are constantly graced with evaporative moisture from a parade of drying yoga wear. This is probably why they survive, and even thrive, under my uneven supervision. I water the orchids once a week and place them back on their perch above the tub. Here, they get all the filtered light they need.

Last week I noticed that one orchid had a shoot with several baby buds. Delighted with my good fortune, I went about my day. A few days later I took a closer look. The growth takes place at the tip of the shoot, but the buds closer to the heart of the plant are the biggest and will bloom first. I realized something startling: My orchid does yoga.

When people think of yoga, they often think of the physical postures or asanas. Movement is part of yoga but there is also pranayama (breath regulation), meditation and various personal and ethical practices that may or may not be undertaken. Yoga is exercise, but it can also be a tool for self-discovery, reflection and balance. In my own practice, I find that I learn a lot about myself when I work my edge. The edge can be my physical limit, a default way I handle difficulty or even a philosophical question. As yoga teacher Jason Crandell says, “Yoga is the perfect opportunity to be curious about who you are.”

In the asana, the physical practice, learning to work my edge has taught me to assess my physical weaknesses and work to strengthen them. When I was younger, I would constantly lead my yoga with my ego. I hurt myself more than once. Like the orchid, I understand that growth takes place on the edges, yet I strive to manage the edge, not bully it. Patanjali suggests that a pose should embody ease and steadiness. In this way, the student may choose to work from the outside in, eventually embodying a calmer mind, heart and center.

The first bloom on my orchid will happen closer to the heart of the plant. It is the same for yogis. In my rush for physical achievement, I often skip over the beauty of the bloom. When I encounter an arguement or a technical difficulty and I take a pause, breathe and handle something better, that’s the bloom. Learning to manage your edge prepares your body and spirit for new approaches and new responses. Both are essential to the journey. The fact that the biggest bud is closest to the orchid’s heart is not a surprise. As Helen Keller wrote: The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.