I spent my first few years of learning yoga on the slanted floor of an old building that used to be a horse stable. Beneath my mat was a linoleum floor covering inexplicably lumpy wood. There were undesirable spots in the room reserved for the last person to show up for class. As if handstands and one legged balancing poses weren’t difficult enough, learning to do them on a slight incline added an extra challenge.

But this was the ground I was given. My temporary real estate to build my foundation for each asana in my practice. It was never the same ground twice (as much as I tried to find that nook that was just right) and I spent a great deal of time feeling irritated by it.

Over time, I branched out of the horse stable and out into the world of yoga “studios” with their spaces intended for practice. Rooms with smooth hard wood floors, perfectly installed. To plant my hands onto a flat level surface without negotiating a rough terrain was an enjoyable experience. It allowed me to find new things to be irritated by and to continue the endless journey of figuring out how to quiet the “mind chatter.”

If you remove one challenge, another challenge will present itself.

Just recently, I began to appreciate having learned yoga in what some would consider to be a “less than ideal setting.” My current place of practice is on the third floor of a very old building. The original hardwood floors are nothing if not imperfect. Just like the horse stables, the front of the room slopes to the center. In some areas there are divots and an occasional nail trying to break free. On my first day, I felt right at home.

These imperfections in the floor mean putting more thought and care into the foundation for each asana. If you are planting your hands on an uneven floorboard, it’s important to considerately distribute the weight on your hands before jumping back to chaturanga. And in a Mysore room, you mustn’t become too comfortable with the ground you’ve been given because it’s is only temporary. At any moment you may need to shift six inches to the right to make room for someone else and suddenly, you’re working with a completely different surface.

After spending so many mornings practicing on these beloved imperfect floors, I’ve found that I can practice anywhere. The deck of a house, the beach, on a stand up paddle board, a hotel bathroom- All of these surfaces require a different approach. The imperfect floors at the shala have taught me to use thought and care when building my foundations regardless of what type of surface is under my mat.

Just like in life off of the mat, you must learn to adapt. You must learn to change your approach to make it more suitable for the surrounding environment. The only other option you have is to be irritated. As Rumi once said, “If you are irritated by every rub, how will you be polished?”