Like sleep, the darkness of this time of year is a fertile ground for deep listening without the need to see clearly or understand fully. When we awaken from a dream, we can remember the astonishing or poignant parts but not all of the details. We can understand or digest its tenor but not grasp the whole picture. The time around the Winter Solstice is similar: we need not intellectualize the whispering of our hearts; we simply need to feel the current.

The practice of yoga has been around for thousands of years. In its early days, it didn’t look the way it does now. It’s definitely evolved. As a wellness tool with ancient roots, it’s taken a while for science to catch up with what some people have had a felt sense of knowing about for centuries. So then, what does yoga do for my mental, emotional, and physical health?

In the yoga world, we often talk about autumn or fall being a time to let go. But to me, the idea of keeping what’s of true value is more interesting. It requires discernment, intuition, refinement, and an astute practice of holding on to something lightly instead of clinging desperately. 

We are both human and Divine. We are This and That. And as beautiful as that shining, loving, knowing Divinity is, the human condition occasionally obscures it.

Our humanity sometimes encourages us to hide what we don’t like in ourselves, what we are ashamed or embarrassed of, and what we find unworthy. It sometimes prompts us to act as if we are someone else - similar, but different from our truth - who seems more worthy, bold, and confident. But…why?

Yoga teachers and practitioners often mention equanimity as a primary intention or result of a yoga practice. It evokes images of serenity, peace, calm, and like you have absolutely transcended the BS of the human condition. It’s alluring, right? But what is it really, and how is it defined?

You’ve probably heard and uttered the word, “Namaste,” at the end of a yoga class. But what does it mean? Is it truly in the yogic tradition? Why do we say it? And why might you decide not to say it?

Doing something new - the great unknown - can make the belly flutter or the knees go weak. That’s a normal physiological response initiated by the sympathetic nervous system to keep us safe from harm. Often, overcoming that physiological response and doing the new thing, leaves us with another physiological response initiated by the central nervous system - the afterglow of serotonin release. And visiting a yoga studio for the first time is no different.

Karma is a Sanskrit word that simply means “action.” The concept of Karma originated in Hinduism and extends to some lineages of Buddhism. (Pali is a common language of Buddhism, and the Pali word is “Kamma,” which also means “action.”)

During a yoga practice, we’ll likely stand, sit, and lay on our yoga mats. Our hands, feet, and even faces make contact with it several times throughout a practice. Over time, the natural oils and even bacteria from our skin transfer to the mat. When practicing outside or in a heated space, grime and germs build up more quickly. But how do we safely remove all of that sweat, skin, oil, and bacteria?

I’ve had clients and students ask some form of this question over the years. The short answer is, “No. Yoga is not a religion.” And many are happy enough to leave it there. I’m always happy to indulge in more conversation about it, though. Yoga’s history is rich with spiritual context.