Published June 17, 2026 12:29PM
After 20 years of teaching yoga and 30 years of practicing it, a teacher began to travel from city to city to lead yoga workshops. In the initial city, he taught a strong contemporary practice with options to come into challenging poses. Students were encouraged to keep a steady mind and calm breath throughout any challenge, releasing any thoughts that appeared just as easily as they had arrived.
The logic behind this approach was that if someone can face challenges on the mat with equanimity, they can conceivably learn to do the same as they navigate life’s unexpected challenges. In keeping with this approach, the teacher gave options to try poses that could be considered Instagram-friendly, including arms balances, inversions, and a sprinkling of legs behind the head. The teacher knew, of course, a pose’s value wasn’t dependent on how photogenic it was, but the emphasis was the challenge inherent in coming into the pose.
After class, a student approached the teacher looking concerned. “This is not yoga,” she chided. “Yoga is about stillness, not performance and athleticism. Give us space to listen to our own bodies.”
The teacher got the message. Not wanting to disappoint students in the next city, he decided to shift his approach entirely. He taught a slower, more spacious, introspective practice comprising 30 minutes of gentle breathwork, 30 minutes of self-led movement, and 30 minutes of Savasana.
Afterward, some students floated away in seeming bliss. But a small group of very non-blissed-out students was demanding a refund. “That had nothing to do with yoga,” was one complaint. “That was just a hippy relaxation session with some improv dance in the middle,” was another accusation. “Where was the philosophy? The learning? There wasn’t even any actual teaching,” said a third angry student.
Not wanting his reputation to collapse, the teacher decided to lean more explicitly into the philosophical roots of yoga for his next class. Out came his dusty harmonium, and as he led the students in chanting, the studio was filled with sound. He also shared contemporary interpretations of ancient yogic texts that speak about suffering, attachment, awareness, and dharma.
The teacher thanked every individual as they left the room, and he found that many were moved to tears. But the final student was moved to outrage. “That was cultural theft,” he told the teacher. “You’re not Indian and you’ve got absolutely no right to teach any of this.”
The teacher respectfully apologized. After a sleepless night, he considered that if he was born with the wrong background to teach nuanced aspects of yoga tradition, it would be safer to teach a modernized, Western version.
So in his following class, he curated an undeniably banging playlist, pulled a tarot card before class to help students set an intention, and filled the fast-paced practice with creative transitions. Then he ended with a visualization of a forest walk.
About half the class seemed to still be experiencing a meditative state as they left. The rest had either already walked out class ended or were loudly complaining after class. “How can we have self-inquiry when the music is so loud we can’t even hear you speak?” mumbled one student under his breath. “And you’re cueing a new asana every three seconds,” added another. “That was a yoga-themed dance class, not a yoga practice,” said a third.
As the teacher approached his last class of the tour, he decided to strip anything remotely controversial or polarizing from his teachings. No yogic philosophy. No “advanced” poses. No music. No Sanskrit. Simply breath awareness and mindful movements designed to strengthen and lengthen the body. He sorta half held his breath throughout the practice, wondering whether the feedback would be decent and hoping not to offend anyone. By this point, he was seriously questioning whether he should abandon his career as a teacher.
After that final class, he made the mistake of checking the online reviews.
“Where was the discipline? The fire? The challenge?”
“Absolutely zero soul. You may as well call it a stretching class. He didn’t even say ‘Namaste.’”
“If you’re going to teach yoga, at least acknowledge where it comes from.”
“There weren’t enough arm balances for me to get any kind of sweat.”
“0 stars. He forgot the massage in Savasana.”
“He didn’t offer me specific variations to accommodate my 2016 Lisfranc ligament rupture.”
“Somebody needs to go back to functional anatomy school.”
“He doesn’t compare to my usual teacher, who won the Yogasana Championship last year in India.”
“That’s not yoga.”
After 30 years of experiencing yoga in his body and 20 years of studying, training, and teaching the practice, he apparently had no idea what yoga was.
Feeling absolutely defeated, he was waiting at the bus stop on his way home when he saw a community notice board full of flyers for yoga classes.
He noticed ads for a range of classes, from traditional to heavily modernized, spiritual to secular, dynamic to restorative. There were approaches that were focused on devotion, chair yoga, meditation, book clubs, and more.
At that moment, he realized that he didn’t need to be everything to everyone. There are billions of human beings on Earth, each carrying different histories, cultures, beliefs, bodies, preferences, insecurities, expectations, and desires. Although he was able to truly connect with many students, he wasn’t able to serve everyone. And that’s okay.
Still waiting for the bus, he acknowledged to himself that there would always be students and teachers who positioned themselves as the final authority on what a yoga practice is or is not. Then he did exactly what he suggested to students whose minds wandered in meditation—he acknowledged all the ideas he had told himself following the various classes and then allowed them to pass.
He decided that if he could honestly, and imperfectly, share practices and ideas that resonated with others and helped them navigate life, perhaps that would be enough. It wasn’t universal approval. But it was being of service. And that was the point.
An adaptation of the Aesop Fable, “The Man, The Boy, and the Donkey.”
