I Don't Know How to Write About Yoga Anymore

In a couple of weeks, I will have been writing this blog for four years.  It started as the lonely outcry of a sequestered home practitioner.  Then it went on to become a detailed journal of my practice, an account of my experience in yoga teacher training, and a record of my life along the yoga path.

Oh, and Asanas of the Week.  Lots of those.

Over the course of the past year, since I have gone back to school, I have written less about my own life and far less about my practice.  I've been spending a lot of time with one particular person whose company I enjoy.  That closeness seems to pacify my creative energy, for better or worse.  And while practicing and teaching yoga are largely solitary pursuits which leave much of my thought free for putting on the page, being in the classroom saps me dry.  There are times that I yearn for that winter I spent largely unemployed, eating beans, doing nothing but practice or huddle in blankets and write.  

Sometimes, when I have an interesting insight or experience on the mat, I try to write about my practice now.  But it doesn't feel right.  Occasionally, I have a spark of inspiration to compose a post about the best time to shower in relation to practice, the importance of refinement in jumping back, or how to bind Pasasana.  But then I think: jesus, who cares...?

The truth is, I care.  I ponder these trivialities every day.  In my practice, or with my students.  I research.  I troubleshoot.  I tinker.  I continue to examine this yoga, this thing that sometimes seems so full of mystery and other times absurdly plain.  But I've forgotten how to write about it.  Maybe I don't have the energy, or maybe I don't think I should.  As the nature of this blog has evolved over the years, so has the nature of my relationship to practice.  It's become a comfortable relationship.  An everyday relationship.  One that isn't always satisfying, but one so wrapped up in who I am that it's impossible to leave.  And it seems almost that whatever happens in a relationship like that is too intimate to share, too gnarly and complex for understanding.

So I don't write about my practice anymore.  Don't talk much about it either.  I just do it, and that's enough.  Maybe this will change.  I enjoy reading about others' practice once in a while, and early on I learned a lot from blogs.  Maybe next week I will need notebooks for detailing my drop backs or logging meditation time, but for now, practice is enough.  And where does that leave the yoga blog?  Who knows.  Who cares?


  1. LOL, I've ben feeling the same way. xo

  2. I know I'm relatively new to your blog, but you have reinvigorated my own practice with your words and photos. Who cares? I ask myself the same thing about my blog, but in the end it's me. I care.

    My yoga practice has encompassed my whole adult life -- a practice of 16 years -- and it has never been just one thing, and it certainly has never been something I could predict. It's an organic part of my life that never fails to amaze me. And never ever leaves me to face this world alone.

    Whether or not you can write about yoga is irrelevant. Is it still there in your life? Then yoga cares.

    I just felt I needed to say thank you for inspiring me again, and reminding me that it's pretty gosh darn special to have yoga in our lives.

    1. Hi valleyvegan. Thank you for your thoughts. I am so glad my blog has been a source of inspiration for you, and that your own blog continues to serve you.

  3. love your blog! Keep writing whenever you feel like, we'll still be here!

  4. There is a time for everything...

  5. Hi Megan. Nuno from Portugal here. I started also a blog in my mother tongue language due in mainly for a necessity to face and help with my home practice. I think writing could work as therapy and reinforce the practice on the mat. Now I feel the need to write about my experiences on the mat but I expect that other times I will not feel so much this need. Do whatever feels right for you, and do not blame yourself. Hugs from Portugal

    1. Hello Nuno. I agree that writing works very well together with the yoga as a complete therapy. I have processed so much emotional baggage and confusion through my writing on this blog. I hope you have the same experience writing about your own practice.

  6. I have started noticing a similar pattern with my practice and talking/writing about it. When I started practicing, I couldn't shut up about it, every conversation seemed to include it. I used to journal (privately) about it a ton too. Both experiencing it/how it felt and what I thought I needed to work on in order to do some pose or another. I also often felt like I wanted to talk about it to/with other people, like in the blog form, and I did for a brief period.

    But, after 4 years of steady practice, now I don't really feel the need or desire to talk about it as much. Even more, I don't feel the need or desire to privately write or journal about it. I don't feel the need to constantly be analyzing the practice anymore, I just want to experience it. After 4 years of practice, when something comes up in the practice (like a tweak or injury or a difficult posture suddenly becoming easeful), I don't feel the need to talk about it (or at least not to a bunch of different people), it's enough to just simply experience what is happening. Injuries/tweaks/breakthroughs, they all just become a regular part of the practice, rather than these random things that totally throw you for a loop. Also, I think that now that I am closer with the group of people I practice with, I don't feel the need to talk EVERYONE'S ear off about it, lol. I also started finding it difficult to just talk about yoga in general on the blog that I was using for a brief time, it felt easier when I had something going on (like the teacher training) or when I was talking about something specific, like when a friend of mine asked what to do when her practice was feeling off.

    I do kind of feel like that this is the general trajectory of the yoga practice though: that as you continue to practice over a long period of time, you might lose a bit of that huge amazement--each practice no longer feels like this huge momentous experience, because you've been going through these experiences now for many, many days, weeks and months. It's not to say that each practice isn't amazing in some way (big or small), just that it's not quite as big of a deal as it used to be, it's just a part of the practice. The yoga practice itself still astonishes me after all these years, and I will still yak someone's ear off if they ask me a specific question about my practice or about yoga, but it's not the only thing I will talk about anymore.

    Also, I think one other big thing might be that, as you continue to practice over a long period of time, the focus shifts from the body and what the body is doing in the practice, to the more subtle aspects: the energy dynamics, a growing spiritual component, the emotions, what it is happening to the mind, etc. And it becomes an even more personal experience at that point, a much more personal journey that is hard to discuss in an open, public forum like this. Probably both because it's a bit hard to comprehend (sometimes I feel like I don't even have words to describe what I am experiencing) and because it is just so personal, it's hard to relate it to a general audience.

    I kind of rambled on for a bit, does that make sense?