Practice, But Question Everything

After many months, I practiced the Ashtanga Primary Series again and I didn’t enjoy it. Sometimes what once felt like home simply no longer does. It’s okay to outgrow, to question, and to explore what truly serves you.

I have a firm foundation in Ashtanga Vinyasa, especially the Primary and Intermediate Series. The first few years of my yoga journey were completely devoted to this system. Six days a week, early mornings, no questions asked. I was younger then, with time and energy to give myself fully to it.

I thought for a long time about whether to share this. But I’ve studied with several teachers and practiced this method for years. I can form my own opinions about it. These are my experiences. This is my truth.

Even in those early years, something in me resisted total surrender to the method. I practiced daily, but not always in the exact way tradition demanded.

In Ashtanga, progress follows a set sequence. You move to the next posture only when your teacher gives it to you. Until then, you repeat what you’ve been taught, often without variation. It can be meditative, powerful, but also rigid. Everyone follows the same progression, regardless of body type, structure, age, or lifestyle.

Even when teachers adapt the practice, most Ashtanga rooms are filled with younger, leaner bodies, whether we like to admit it or not. The atmosphere can be intimidating. Ashtanga is an advanced practice. The so-called Primary Series is anything but primary.

I absolutely think Ashtanga is an intelligent system. Its sequencing builds heat, focus, and rhythm with precision. Even now, I often begin my own practice with Surya Namaskar A and B, followed by the standing postures. They give me a sense of grounding and internal stability before I explore beyond the traditional structure.

However much of primary emphasizes passive range of motion (long-held forward folds, binds, and deep hip openings) which can feel beautiful but don’t always build stability or joint protection. Over time, I’ve realized how essential active flexibility is, particularly while training inversions, handstands and backbends. These movements demand strength and control within range, qualities that need to be trained separately and intentionally. This kind of conditioning strengthens and safeguards the body, especially for those of us who are naturally more flexible.

I was fortunate to have teachers who taught from the heart, not hierarchy. They understood that yoga lives differently in every body. I was naturally flexible, and many postures came easily, but strength took time. I remember practicing the full ninety minute sequence in the mornings and then adding an evening session for core and upper body work. I could then. Now I don’t, and I don’t want to.

These days, I want my yoga practice to fit within an hour because I have another love: swimming. It has changed how I experience both body and breath. The rhythm of the stroke, the calm before the turn, the quiet under the water, it has become a living pranayama. Swimming has taught me more about breath than any structured technique ever could, holding, releasing, expanding, softening, all while staying steady and present.

Now, when I step on my mat, I think like a swimmer. I move in ways that keep my shoulders healthy, my spine long, and my breath expansive. My yoga and swimming feed each other. One teaches stillness through motion, the other movement through stillness. Both are about breathing (or not breathing) with intelligence.

Between that, teaching, and everything else physical in my day, I have to make wise choices. If I were to return fully to Ashtanga as prescribed, I’d have to give up other things that matter. A senior teacher once said, “If you want to do this practice in its truest form, you have to give up hiking, running, other sports. Ashtanga wants your whole self.” She’s right. But I no longer want to live within those boundaries.

Ashtanga doesn’t like it when you do anything outside the sequence. You feel it immediately. Your binds get harder, your hips tighten, your rhythm shifts, and transitions lose their ease. You have to practice every single day if you want to move the way advanced practitioners do. It takes total immersion and a body built entirely around this method.

I simply am not interested in doing such deep asanas anymore. I would rather become a better swimmer with graceful, efficient technique or execute strong, powerful handstands. I have no problem putting my leg behind my head, but must I also bind and twist at the same time? Can I not choose what feels sustainable for my body? I love the challenge, make no mistake, but I don’t believe that torturing my body is a path to growth or freedom.

It’s no secret how common injuries are in this practice. Even senior teachers speak of them casually, as if they’re part of the path. Why must it be this way? Injuries aren’t rare; they’re almost expected. Many inexperienced teachers now run the show, forcing students into shapes, not asanas, all in the name of ego. Far from yoga.

The practice has deep value, but it isn’t sustainable in its strictest form for everyone. Many practitioners now recognize this. Even lifelong Ashtangis are adding strength training and mobility work to protect their joints and longevity. The truth is, Ashtanga was built in another time, for younger bodies shaped by different lives. For many of us, it needs adaptation, not worship.

As I move deeper into the spiritual aspects of yoga, I can’t help but question certain things. There is an asana obsession here. My Instagram feed is filled with asanas, that’s how I market my classes. But my actual practice looks very different. I do what feels right for me, guided by a teacher I trust. No fixed sequences. No rigid patterns.

In that process, the importance of asana has naturally taken a backseat, even if you can’t tell from what you see online. If you read my writings, you’ll sense it. This is how I teach as well: what you need for your body. That doesn’t mean an easy practice, just what is right for you.

I don’t believe true yoga happens on the mat, no matter how often you hear the word yoga there. It’s in every moment of life, how you live, speak, respond, and grow. I feel these methods, as powerful as they are, should not hold so much importance.

Discipline is one thing; rigidity is another. It’s important to keep questioning, even when guidance comes from the most senior teachers. This is your body, your life, your practice. Just because everyone else is following the same pattern doesn’t mean you should. Do what’s right for you, and don’t mistake comfort for discipline.

I focus on my weaknesses because that’s where growth lies. Strength is something I keep building, patiently and relentlessly.

When I shared this sentiment on my stories and asked if you wanted to know more, the response was overwhelming. It reminded me that I’m not alone in feeling this way. I hope something here resonates with you. You do you.

I have deep respect for practitioners on this path because it is not easy. The point of this is simply to question whether such a demanding practice is truly necessary. I love traditional methods and value complete immersion, but I also believe they must evolve to serve the individual. My way of life and physical practice should support each other. Do not be limited by anything.

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Keep practicing 🙏