How Twenty Years of Practice Changed What I Thought Yoga Was
Yesterday, my son started talking to me while I was on my laptop, and I closed it. That's the whole moment.
Maybe you know this story. You start a practice with real devotion. A morning meditation, a few sun salutations, a page in your journal before bed. For a week or two, it feels wonderful.
Then life happens. A deadline, a sick child, a few late nights. One missed morning becomes three, and three becomes a quiet sense that you have failed again.
I have watched this happen to so many students over my years of teaching. I have lived it myself. And I have come to believe the problem is almost never willpower. The problem is design.
Sadhana is a Sanskrit word often translated as spiritual practice. I like to describe it more simply: the daily return to what matters most.
A sadhana can be anything you practice with devotion. Breath, movement, meditation, chanting, prayer, journaling, reading a sacred text. What makes it sadhana is not the form. It is the consistency and the intention behind it.
In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali teaches that practice becomes firmly rooted when it continues over a long time, without interruption, and with devotion. Notice what is missing from that teaching. Nothing about practicing for an hour. Nothing about doing it perfectly. Time, continuity, and heart are what root a practice.
Most of us design our practice for an ideal day. A quiet morning, plenty of time, energy to spare, nobody needing anything from us. Then we try to live it on a real day.
If your mornings are chaotic, a morning practice will keep slipping. If you are exhausted by evening, an hour of asana after dinner will start to feel like a punishment. The practice was never wrong. It was built for someone with a different life.
So before choosing what to practice, it helps to look honestly at the shape of your day. When do you feel most awake? When do you fade? What small pockets of time do you already have? And what do you already do every single day without fail, like making coffee or brushing your teeth, that a practice could quietly attach to?
Five minutes every day roots deeper than an hour once a week. A small practice is not a lesser practice. It is the one that actually happens, and what happens is what transforms us.
A practice trying to fix everything usually fixes nothing. Choose one primary intention for this season: calm, energy, sleep, focus, emotional balance, insight, or devotion. Let that intention choose your practices. If your intention is sleep, a few minutes of bhramari and legs up the wall before bed will serve you better than a vigorous morning flow.
When you tie your practice to a clear why, something shifts. It stops being discipline and starts becoming devotion.
If you take only one idea from this post, let it be this one. Instead of one practice, you design three:
The minimum is the secret. If it would not happen on a sick day, make it smaller. When your practice has a version small enough for your worst day, there is always a way to keep the thread unbroken.
You will miss days. Everyone does. What matters is what you tell yourself afterward.
A missed day does not break a sadhana. Quitting after a missed day does. So when you miss, there is no need to make up for lost time or start over from day one. Simply return to your minimum tomorrow, and count it.
The return is the practice. Every time you come back without judgment, you are strengthening the very thing sadhana is meant to cultivate.
Many yoga traditions use forty days as the length of a sadhana. It is long enough for a practice to take root, and short enough to feel possible. Commit to your minimum for forty days, and let everything beyond it be a gift.
I created a free workbook to walk you through all of this, step by step. Design Your Sadhana guides you through six gentle steps:
It includes a practice menu organized by layer of being, with links to guided practices you can do with me on Insight Timer, plus a practice card to keep, and a tracker for your forty days.
No hour a day required. No streak to protect. Just a practice that fits your real life, and a gentle way to keep returning.
I would love to hear what your minimum practice turns out to be. Tell me here.
Keep going: Yoga Nidra for Beginners is a gentle place to start, and How Twenty Years of Practice Changed What I Thought Yoga Was is the longer story behind this one. When you're ready to practice, choose a practice here.
Yesterday, my son started talking to me while I was on my laptop, and I closed it. That's the whole moment.
Around four o'clock most afternoons, my body gets ready to leave for a studio that isn't there anymore.
I had my first lucid dream this year, while I was taking a graduate course called Consciousness of Sleep and Dreams. I'd like to say that was a coincidence.
Reading can help us understand an idea. Practice gives us a chance to encounter it for ourselves.