Yoga Without the Spectacle-What Yoga Has Always Been for Me

In today’s modern yoga world, there are a lot of “goals” floating around that aren’t necessarily yoga goals at all. They’re more like: How hot can the room be? What’s the peak pose? What’s the hardest shape I can hit today? Can I skip Triangle because I’ve “outgrown” it?

Is any of that wrong? No. Not at all.

But somewhere along the way, yoga became very sensationalized. Sweat became the measure of success. Exhaustion became proof that the class was “good.” Hitting the peak pose — preferably an Instagram-worthy one — became the moment everything built toward. And if you didn’t leave completely spent, did you even practice yoga?

For me, that’s never been what yoga is about.

Yoga, at its core, is about connection. A deep, intimate connection with my body — one that I don’t experience in any other movement modality. Yoga is where I listen instead of push. It’s where I soften instead of override. It’s where I remember that my body isn’t something to conquer, but something to be in relationship with.

Yoga is also my path to God.

It meets me exactly where I am. When I’m healing from bronchitis and barely have the energy to settle into Child’s Pose, yoga is there — gently, patiently, without judgment. And when I’m feeling strong, vibrant, and energized, yoga greets me with that same openness. The practice doesn’t change its worth based on how much I can do. I do.

Yoga has never been about the pose for me. It’s never been about the heat, the gear, or the spectacle. It’s personal. It’s my heart. It’s my soul.

And please hear this — there is no judgment here. Truly. I love a strong flow. I love peak poses. I love intelligently preparing the body to explore challenging shapes. That work is fun, creative, and incredibly beneficial. I’ll continue to teach it because it’s powerful and effective.

What saddens me is that yoga, as a whole, has been swept up in mass marketing. Somewhere along the way, the philosophy got lost. The accessibility got blurred. The idea that yoga belongs to everyone — regardless of what they wear, how flexible they are, or how much money they spend — faded into the background.

Yoga doesn’t require expensive pants.
Yoga doesn’t require heat.
Yoga doesn’t require performance.

As I step into this new year, my intention is simple: to keep teaching the physical practice and to keep making space for what lives underneath it. To remind students — and myself — that yoga is deeper than a hot room or a hard pose. That it’s okay to explore strength and challenge, as long as we also explore presence, awareness, and meaning.

Yoga doesn’t need to be rescued from the modern world. But it does deserve to be remembered.