0
Share on bsky
In 2014, I completed a 200-hour Yoga Teacher Training program in Los Angeles, California, at a time when the yoga market was less crowded than it is today.
Like many others, I was a dedicated practitioner who quickly became passionate about yoga, leading me to pursue teaching.
My journey began modestly, cleaning a studio in exchange for free classes. Despite these humble beginnings, I was an enthusiastic young teacher, eager to make my mark on the world.
My aspirations extended beyond Los Angeles. After gaining some teaching experience, I felt a strong urge to explore the world and share yoga on an international scale. I actively looked for unique teaching opportunities and secured short-term positions at luxury resorts, which allowed me to immerse myself in various cultures while continuing to teach. My travels took me from the sunny Caribbean shores to the spiritual landscapes of Thailand and Bali, historic Italy, and even the remote beauty of Fiji.
In each of these breathtaking locations, I shared my love for what most of my students perceived as yoga: the physical practice of asanas. It was an exhilarating period filled with new faces, stunning scenery, and numerous opportunities to connect through movement, even if the deeper philosophical aspects of yoga weren’t always emphasized.
From Passion to Profound Disillusionment
Ten years after I consciously decided to teach yoga, the initial passion has dwindled to mere embers. What began as a heartfelt endeavor to share a holistic practice, serving as a sanctuary for the mind, body, and spirit, has sadly become unrecognizable. The essence that initially drew me to yoga, and subsequently to teaching, seems to have been diluted, if not entirely lost, in the prevailing trends of the modern yoga world.
My classes, once vibrant spaces for exploration, increasingly attracted students whose interest was limited to the physical expression of asanas. The deeper, equally essential elements of yoga were largely ignored. My attempts to introduce and emphasize pranayama (breathwork) and meditation were met with polite disinterest or, worse, overt apathy, unless these practices were framed as challenging physical exercises. This shift was profoundly discouraging. I found myself inadvertently supporting an industry that, in my view, was increasingly profiting from the cultural appropriation of an ancient spiritual practice, stripping it of its philosophical roots and reducing it to mere exercise. The sanctuary I had created felt like an echo chamber, reflecting back a commercialized version of yoga I no longer recognized, leaving me with a deep sense of disillusionment.
Yoga’s Roots
Yoga originated in ancient India over 5,000 years ago as a spiritual practice aimed at uniting the mind, body, and spirit. It had strong roots in the philosophical traditions of Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism. Early references to yoga are found in the Rig Veda, one of India’s oldest sacred texts.
Over time, yoga evolved through various stages:
>> Vedic Yoga: Focused on rituals and ceremonies.
>> Pre-Classical Yoga: Including texts like the Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita.
>> Classical Yoga: Defined by Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras and the eightfold path or Ashtanga Yoga.
>> Post-Classical and Modern Yoga: Emphasizing physical postures and wellness.
Who Was Swami Vivekananda?
Swami Vivekananda (1863–1902) was an Indian Hindu monk who played a pivotal role in introducing the Indian philosophies of Vedanta and Yoga to the Western world in the late 19th century. He gained international acclaim with his inspiring speech at the 1893 Parliament of the World’s Religions in Chicago, where he spoke on religious tolerance and the universality of spiritual truth. A disciple of Sri Ramakrishna, he was instrumental in reviving Hinduism in India and shaping its national identity. In the context of yoga, Swami Vivekananda emphasized the philosophical and spiritual aspects of the practice. He promoted Raja Yoga, based on Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, distinguishing yoga as a mental and spiritual discipline rather than just a physical exercise.
How did we transition from the profound teachings of Swami Vivekananda, which positioned yoga as a path to spiritual realization and self-mastery, to a landscape dominated by commercialized yoga paraphernalia? This transformation is almost comical, yet it reflects a significant shift. It seems that humanity occasionally strays too far from its spiritual roots, getting caught up in materialism and superficiality. This is when we need spiritual leaders—those beacons of truth—to guide us back on track. Like wise elders, they remind us of what truly matters. Just as a lost puppy longs for the comfort and familiarity of home, we need to be reminded of yoga’s origins and its sacred purpose.
Today, the world of yoga often looks different from what Vivekananda envisioned. While physical activity and well-being have value, the focus has often shifted from internal transformation to external appearances—from spiritual discipline to a marketable lifestyle. The journey has moved from the serene depths of self-discovery to the bustling aisles of a retail store. The question remains: how do we, as individuals and society, bridge this gap and reclaim the profound essence of yoga that has perhaps been diluted over time?
The Rise of Yoga as a Fitness Trend
Asanas, the physical postures of yoga, are mentioned in yogic scriptures as the third limb of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, following Yama (ethical restraints) and Niyama (observances). The primary aim of asanas, according to the Yoga Sutras, was not merely for physical fitness or flexibility, although these might be achieved. Rather, they were intended to prepare the body and mind for deeper meditation by making the body steady and comfortable, thereby reducing physical distractions and mental fluctuations. This is often summarized by the Sutra: Sthira Sukham Asanam (2.46), meaning “Posture should be steady and comfortable.”
It is curious how this ancient practice, rooted in stillness and inner preparation, has been largely reinterpreted in the modern West. What began as a means to quiet the physical and mental chatter for deeper meditative states has, for many, become an end in itself. The emphasis has dramatically shifted from the internal landscape of the practitioner to the external display of physical achievement. This transformation is perhaps most vividly illustrated in the digital realm.
Scrolling through any social media feed, one is likely inundated with yoga selfies—gravity-defying inversions, seemingly impossible binds, aerial poses, and perfectly sculpted bodies contorting into aesthetically pleasing shapes. This visual deluge, while showcasing impressive physical feats, inadvertently fosters an environment of physical competition, where the practice is judged by its outward appearance rather than its inward impact. The serene, introspective journey of yoga is reduced to a performative art, a quest for the most extreme flexibility or the most Instagrammable pose, tragically divorcing it from its profound philosophical heritage and essence.
This pervasive focus on physical postures means that for many practitioners, yoga starts and ends with the mat. The rich tapestry of Patanjali’s eight limbs—encompassing ethical guidelines (Yamas, Niyamas), breath control (Pranayama), sensory withdrawal (Pratyahara), concentration (Dharana), meditation (Dhyana), and ultimate absorption (Samadhi)—remains largely unexplored. When yoga is reduced to a sequence of exercises, however beneficial for the body, true representation of the holistic path of a yogi cannot be achieved. The deeper wisdom, ethical framework, and transformative power intended to cultivate a balanced mind and spirit are often left behind in pursuit of that perfect handstand or deeper backbend.
This decontextualization and commodification of yoga by the West unfortunately introduces the issue of cultural appropriation. When a practice deeply rooted in the spiritual and philosophical traditions of one culture is lifted, rebranded, and marketed for physical aesthetics or commercial gain by another, usually dominant culture, its sacred origins are inevitably obscured. What was once a path to liberation now becomes a trendy fitness regimen, bereft of all Sanskrit terminology, its deities, its ethical moorings, and its very soul. A vibrant, living tradition is flattened into a marketable commodity. Businesses profit from a heritage not their own, often without acknowledgment of its roots or respect for its profound depth.
Conversations in ashrams sound like New-Age nonsense, with countless incorrect explanations of what the number 108 means. Ironic, isn’t it? Or better yet, I find non-Indians trying to act more Indian than me, which leaves me wondering why they can’t embrace their own heritage rather than attempting to colonize mine? Didn’t the British do enough damage? I’m not discouraging people from following a spiritual path, but it should be done respectfully, honoring the roots of ancient traditions rather than trying to claim them as one’s own.
This is where a profound responsibility falls on those of us with Indian roots. As custodians of this ancient wisdom for millennia, it is our duty to actively and articulately reclaim the narrative. We possess unique insights into the cultural and spiritual fabric from which yoga emerged, understanding its nuances beyond the physical postures. It is our obligation, not merely as an act of cultural preservation but as a commitment to truth, to bring awareness to this critical topic. By educating and sharing the complete story of yoga—its ethics, philosophy, and true purpose beyond the mat—we can work to uphold its integrity and guide practitioners back to the authentic, holistic path envisioned by Swami Vivekananda and other masters, ensuring its essence is not lost in translation or commercialization.
Spiritual Bypass
With a background in psychology, I’ve come to understand that the world of yoga often mirrors a tendency to bypass deeper, underlying issues, offering quick fixes through a few downward dogs and chanting instead of addressing root causes. In my own spiritual community, I’ve witnessed many shades of this phenomenon over the years: the emotionally unavailable man who dedicates himself to God rather than learning how to create real intimacy; the disillusioned woman who overcompensates by dedicating herself to her Guru, writing off men entirely; the broken, unhealed addict who claims his life back within a spiritual “bubble,” refusing real accountability and inner work that yields lasting change. Regrettably, these spiritually narcissistic types are usually drawn to spiritual people, siphoning their energy.
What you might find in any ashram, from the West to the mountains of Rishikesh, is “performative spirituality” or spiritual narcissism. Here’s what baffles me in these “supposedly” spiritual centers: the person who does the most, acting as a highly obedient devotee, bullies and asserts authority while undermining others—so spiritual, right? People in positions of power in these places often need to return to the basics, positioning themselves so high on the totem pole that they can no longer see the ground. Basic spiritual principles like kindness, compassion, humility, and respect are disregarded entirely, yet chanting mantras, performing ritualistic pujas, and meditating somehow make them feel “enlightened.” Something is off here; are they genuinely improving or just transferring toxic patterns into a spiritual space so they can continue operating in the same old way? This phenomenon is known as “spiritual bypass,” a term originally coined by Buddhist teacher and psychotherapist John Welwood in the mid-1980s. It refers to an unconscious defense mechanism where individuals bypass unresolved emotional issues, wounds, and developmental needs by focusing exclusively on spiritual ideas, beliefs, and experiences.
In essence, it is a self-defense mechanism whereby one consciously or unconsciously uses spirituality to avoid uncomfortable emotions or hard realities and personal problems, rather than confronting them directly. While spiritual practices are incredibly valuable for growth and well-being, spiritual bypass occurs when they are used to avoid genuine emotional processing and integration. It’s like sweeping your emotions under the meditation cushion; sooner or later, the dust rises. True spiritual growth integrates all parts of the self: light and shadow, spiritual and human. Spiritual bypass compartmentalizes, keeping spiritual practice separate from day-to-day emotional and relational functioning. Although it can be an effective coping mechanism for acute stress at times, it becomes problematic as a long-term strategy because it excludes true healing, emotional maturity, and authentic ways of engaging both with oneself and the world.
Consider George, whom I met while teaching yoga in Thailand. He was actively recovering from addiction. During the retreat, George received a Reiki treatment from the resident yoga/reiki practitioner. Within 24 hours after the session, George began to unravel. He became erratic, emotionally unstable, and was quite literally a ticking time bomb. Despite a few hours of counseling and an earnest attempt to calm his nerves, George disappeared. Last we heard, he was on a bus to Chiang Mai. Let’s hope George and others like him find the true healing and peace of mind they seek. True spiritual paths often encourage facing and integrating all aspects of human experience, including the difficult ones, rather than bypassing them. When dealing with deeply rooted trauma, bypass can do more harm than good. It would be like tending to the leaves of a tree without nourishing the roots.
Bless its heart clad in cotton-spandex, yoga sometimes feels less like a path to enlightenment and more like a superhighway to spiritual bypass. It’s as if we’ve collectively decided that if we can just nail that handstand and say “Namaste” enough times, our inner demons will politely excuse themselves. Think of it this way: you’re feeling a bit grumpy, maybe a tad rage-y because someone cut you off in traffic. Instead of actually feeling that annoyance or journaling or boxing, you go inward. You flow through your vinyasa, then sit on your meditation cushion, chanting “peace and love” in your head, and then declare yourself “zen.” Poof! Anger gone! Or is it just tucked neatly under your perfectly aligned warrior two?
It’s the ultimate “good vibes only” filter on your psyche. Why deal with uncomfortable emotions when you can just breathe deeply, hum an Om, and pretend everything’s all sunshine and rainbows? Got a simmering resentment toward your boss? Just meditate more! Feeling lonely? Clearly, you need more chakra balancing! In this respect, yoga becomes less an exercise in confronting one’s shadow and more akin to spiritual window-shopping. We pick and choose the visually appealing aspects—the fancy poses, the soothing soundtrack, the post-class buzz—and skip over the messy, uncomfortable stuff of actual self-inquiry. Svadhyaya, a Sanskrit word, translates to “self-study” or “self-reflection.” As a yogic practice, it involves looking within to better understand oneself—one’s thoughts, habits, emotions, and spiritual nature.
For a yoga beginner, svadhyaya is important as it helps one become more aware of who they are beyond just the body or daily roles. Examples include keeping a journal, meditating, or reading spiritual texts such as the Yoga Sutras or Bhagavad Gita. The process is not about self-judgment, but rather growing from honest insight. Svadhyaya deepens both your practice and personal transformation on the yogic path. Through this regular practice of self-study, you make more conscious choices, release patterns that no longer serve you, and move closer to your true self.
So next time you’re on your mat, ask yourself: am I truly processing, or am I just doing a really graceful emotional sidestep? Because sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is just admit you’re having a bad day, even if your Pigeon Pose is absolutely flawless.
~
Read 0 comments and reply