It's All Yoga

everything is everything

Recently, I found myself asking someone, “What’s your favorite thing about yourself?” After a thoughtful answer, they asked me the same. Without hesitation, I replied, “My curiosity.” The next day, while cleaning my bedroom, I reflected, “What’s my least favorite thing about myself?” Instantly, I knew: my need to know. It is not at all lost on me that these are two sides of the same coin. My endless curiosity keeps me open and full of wonder, honoring the mysteries of life. This is a beautiful trait. Yet I also have a deep longing to understand the unknowable, driving me, like a hungry ghost, to constantly seek answers.

This hunger for answers, while sometimes overwhelming, has tangible impacts on my life and practice. This drive to learn keeps me enrolled as a student. I have been consistently enrolled in some form of yoga training program since 2020. I voraciously consume texts and work 1:1. or take classes with teachers I admire. I view every opportunity I get to teach, whether in a class or workshop, or even in a podcast episode, as an opportunity to learn and grow. One thing I’ve noticed is how often, as a student in a classroom setting, I am told information that contradicts something a previous teacher said. “Pull your elbows forward in Garudasana (eagle pose) to elongate the neck” vs. “draw the elbows down in eagle to compress and then lift the chest up.” or “The Gayatri mantra helps thin the layers of the Koshas to let Atman shine through” vs. “The Gayatri mantra is only meant for men to whisper in the ears of their sons when they come of age.” This is where, at times, my own research or discernment is needed. The beauty of yoga is that, in The Bhagavad Gita, a foundational text of classical yoga and Hinduism that most of us study or begin with in the West, it outlines how we are to best learn. We begin with the texts, and then, potentially, a guru or teacher who translates them, while the highest version of knowledge is achieved exclusively through direct experience. The power is truly in the practice. The practice is the moon, and everything else is just a finger pointing at it. This is true for everything we do. It’s why, although I love the work of Maya Angelou, I have to wholeheartedly disagree with her famous quote, “When we know better, we do better.” Often, we think we know, and yet we still don’t do better. The truth is, none of us really know, and we certainly don’t always do, but I suppose practice makes progress.

This ongoing engagement with learning and the search for deeper understanding has led me into varied explorations. Building on this devotion to learning and practice, during the last semester of Sadhana School, a program I am enrolled in through the Embodied Philosophy platform, we dove into what’s known as Maitrika Shakti, or the ineffable experience of practicing mantra. One of the course leaders, Nataraj Chaitanya, encouraged us in his introduction not to get lost in Vidyaranya, the forest of knowledge. I found myself reminded of Alan Watts’s book, The Wisdom of Insecurity: A Message for an Age of Anxiety, in which he argues that humanity’s frantic search for security is the root of its anxiety. Watts posited that because life is inherently impermanent and unpredictable, true happiness and spiritual peace are found only by accepting this insecurity and living fully in the present moment, rather than chasing future certainty.

In my personal experience, yoga certainly seems to help with finding presence, but even after all my practice, there are times when I am sick of myself and feel insecure. I am, after all, yet another thin, blonde, able-bodied white woman donning Free People Movement attire and espousing ancient wisdom from a culture I don’t come from. It has been immensely helpful to learn the historical context of Yoga vs. Hinduism, which, while not inherently the same, overlaps significantly, in order to orient myself in my own teachings so that I can culturally appreciate vs culturally appropriate. However, I find inherent acceptance in the practice itself. Part of my work in both learning and teaching non-dualism is accepting that I might want to sing Outkast or the Ganesha mantra at the end of a class, and that neither is inherently more spiritual than the other. I have both a goddess Saraswati murti and a bronze glitter ET bath bomb from Lush, which I honor with equal reverence because both hold deep meaning for me.

This perspective on embracing different aspects of myself informs how I interpret the debates I see in the yoga world today. Currently, I find myself intrigued by the amount of debate in the online yoga space. Many people are currently arguing over the superiority or age of their “lineage,” when nearly all of what we practice in the West is modern, and “lineage” might as well be another word for brand (yes, even yours). That does NOT mean these practices or traditions are without merit. I have rolled out my mat for a home Ashtanga primary practice more times than I could possibly count. I’ve chanted a mantra for hours, rolling mala beads through my fingers, but I’ve also touched the face of God during savasana at the end of a sweaty, black-lit EDM yoga class. All of this can be true. You are, in fact, not more yogic for wearing harem pants and no makeup. I am, in fact, not less yogic for loving the Euphoria TV show and cursing under my breath in traffic. There’s a lot of discussion right now about what yoga is and what isn’t. While I do think yoga is a lived experience, what concerns me is that there seems to be a bit of judgment about who is or isn’t “living their yoga,” and, frankly, that is not something anyone can name but the practitioner experiencing yoga through the vehicle of their own life. The beauty of where I do think is that this conversation is coming from, and what isn’t up for debate is that yoga is inherently a spiritual practice. It is part and parcel of it, no matter the lineage, tradition, or brand. This past week, I interviewed fellow teacher Carter Miles on my podcast, where he reflected on the current conversation in the yoga space. As I was editing, I was struck by a single line he said: “As far as I’m concerned, it’s either all yoga or none of it’s yoga.” It is all yoga.

With that in mind, I

am reminded that yoga’s spiritual foundation is interconnected with everyday life. Also, our lives are a spiritual practice. Our divinity is part and parcel with our humanity. These things cannot be separated, and the separation or division is where yoga is needed most right now, so that we might remember we are not separate from each other. If what drives someone to their mat for the first time is the opportunity to change the shape of their ass, or to stretch their calves, then I don’t really care. If what drives someone to their first meditation is crippling anxiety, then that’s a great place to start. Despite all of my hours of training, I can’t say with any degree of certainty whether you or I will awaken from the seat of the meditation cushion, from the front row at a Radiohead concert, or while watching a rerun of Welcome Back, Kotter on a beanbag. It’s not for me to judge, and it’s certainly not for me to know.