Beyond the Poses: What India Taught Me About Real Yoga

India cracked something open in me. I travelled to Rishikesh, known as the birthplace of yoga. And yes, it’s more tourist-heavy now, but its roots still run deep. The energy feels ancient. The teachers I met weren’t performing yoga, they were living it. You could feel it in how they moved, how they breathed, how they spoke and held space. There was no ego, no striving, no performance. Just presence, humility and deep devotion. The way it was always meant to be.

Every day in Rishikesh reminded me that yoga isn’t something you do for 60 minutes, it’s something you live. It’s in how you breathe, how you treat others, how you speak to yourself. It’s in the small decisions, the uncomfortable moments, the way you meet life when it gets hard. That’s where yoga begins.

What struck me most wasn’t the temples or the teachings, though those were powerful. It was the people. People who owned little but smiled big. People who gave without needing to be asked. People who reminded me that happiness doesn’t come from more things, it comes from more presence. That helped me unhook a little more from materialism, to soften into gratitude, and to come home to what really matters.

"Experiencing the sacred Aarti on the banks of the Ganga. With every word chanted, every circle of light offered, the connection to something greater deepens. In that moment, we become part of something timeless, surrendering, honoring, and feeling."

"Through the archway, the Taj Mahal emerged from the fog, its grandeur softened by the mist. A silent testament to love, history, and the passage of time."

I’ve never practiced yoga just to get flexible. That’s never been my why. I started because I was carrying a lot. PTSD. Anxiety. Grief. I needed a way to breathe again. A way to feel safe in my own body. A way to sit with the pain I didn’t know how to process. Yoga gave me that. Not the poses, but the practice. The inner work. The deep, quiet meeting with myself.

Even now, there are days I don’t step onto my mat. But I’m still practicing yoga. Every time I make a conscious choice, take a breath before I speak, show compassion when it’s hard, or choose alignment over approval, that is yoga. I love movement. I love asana. I love how it brings me into presence. But for me, it’s never been just about the shape of the pose. It’s about the shape of your life.

Western yoga has been filtered. Branded. Watered down. It’s often more about how it looks than how it feels. It’s turned into something to consume instead of something to commit to. But once you’ve felt the real thing, the deep-rooted practice that meets you in your chaos and still holds you, the surface version isn’t enough anymore.

That’s why I try my best to teach from the roots. Not as performance, but as practice. I teach from the place that saved me. From the part of me that believes yoga is sacred. That it’s here to hold us when we’re falling apart. That it’s not about burning calories, but about burning illusions. Not about touching your toes, but about touching your truth.

I want people to feel something when they practice with me. I want them to feel grounded, real, human, alive. I want them to feel safe enough to go inward and brave enough to grow. Yoga isn’t just movement, it’s medicine. And it’s not always easy, but it’s always honest. It holds a mirror up and asks you to meet yourself fully.

This practice deserves more than a filtered version of itself. It deserves your presence. Your honesty. Your willingness to go inward. And if that’s not for you, that’s okay. But if not, are you really practicing yoga, or are you just stretching?

If you’ve ever craved something deeper, something real, I’d love to share this path with you.

In my next post, I’ll be diving deep into the reality of visiting training in India, the highs, the lows, and the shift you experience after spending over a month in this vibrant, chaotic, and deeply spiritual country. Stay tuned for an honest look at how India changes you, both on and off the mat.