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Why Yoga Feels Different Than It Used To: A Loving Call Back to Teaching Yoga Intentionally and Ethically
- maydwellyoga
- Dec 29, 2025
- 5 min read
There is something many of us have been feeling for a while now, but haven’t quite known how to say out loud—at least not without sounding judgmental, bitter, or like we’re “gatekeeping.” This is my attempt to speak honestly, kindly, and clearly.
This is not an attack on newer teachers. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
You don’t know what you don’t know.
And that matters.
Those of us who were taught how to teach, who were guided by mentors, elders, and lineages that emphasized presence, observation, adaptation, and care, can feel that something essential is slipping away in many Western yoga spaces. And that loss makes us deeply sad. It breaks our hearts. And yes, it scares us.
Because we recognize what’s missing.
Yoga Is Being Shown as Shapes, Taught as merely a Choreographed Dance
In many studios today, yoga has slowly shifted from a practice of awareness, connection, and inner inquiry into something that looks much more like a generalized fitness class. Students are often told what shape to make, but not how to move their bodies, why they are doing it, or how to adapt it for themselves.
Language is used—often Sanskrit or yogic terminology—without explanation. Words are spoken, but meaning isn’t transmitted. Students leave class knowing what the pose looked like, but not what it was doing, or how to access its benefits safely and intentionally.
Yoga teachers are guiding students through sequences but not always teaching them how to:
Listen to their bodies
Breathe with intention
Modify for their own anatomy
Regulate their nervous systems
Calm the mind
Build a sustainable, personal practice
Without these tools, students are left with movement—but not mastery, understanding, or empowerment.
When the Primary Purpose Shifts
Yoga can be physically demanding. Strength, flexibility, stamina, and sweat are real and valuable benefits of practice.
But they were never the primary purpose.
When every class is heated, when intensity and sweat become the measure of “doing it right,” we quietly teach students that effort equals worth—and that calm, subtlety, or inward focus are somehow less valuable.
Sweating is not the problem. Confusing sweat with depth is.
You can sweat in countless fitness classes—and those classes serve an important and valid purpose. But yoga is not merely a workout. When it becomes one, something powerful is lost.
This Is Not the Fault of New Teachers
This is important to say clearly and repeatedly. Many yoga teachers today were never taught how to teach.
They were not taught how to:
Check for understanding
Meet students where they are
Read the room and adjust in real-time
Teach to different learning styles
Build trust and relationship
Explain why and how, not just what
Adjust language when something isn’t landing
Reteach when confusion is present
They were taught sequences. They were taught choreography. They were taught how to perform a class.
And increasingly, more and more were taught through pre-recorded videos or inexpensive, text-based “courses” with no real-time interaction, no mentorship, no feedback, and no opportunity for a teacher to pivot, adapt, or respond to students in the moment.
These are not classes.
They are not truly courses.
And they cannot transmit the heart of yoga.
The Copy of a Copy
Like a copy machine making a copy of a copy of a copy, each generation loses a bit of clarity, richness, and depth. Teachers who were never taught how to teach go on to train others. And those trainees, lacking foundational tools, eventually open their own trainings.
With each iteration, the practice becomes thinner, more superficial, more focused on appearance than essence.
Those of us who have practiced and taught for many years, who were shaped by living lineages, can feel it immediately when we walk into a room.
Something is missing.
Often, we no longer see yoga leaders at the front of the room. Instead, we see well-intentioned fitness instructors or choreographers—sometimes unconsciously stepping into the role of spiritual authority—without the grounding, training, or responsibility that role requires.
And again: this is not about blame.
They don’t know what they don’t know.
Why This Matters So Much
Yoga, when taught fully, gives people tools they can use both on and off the mat:
Tools for self-regulation
Tools for inquiry
Tools for compassion
Tools for discernment
Tools for lifelong practice
When those tools aren’t taught, students don’t leave stronger in themselves—they leave dependent on the class, the heat, the teacher, or the intensity to feel something.
Yoga becomes something you consume, not something you embody.
And that is a profound loss.
A Necessary Clarification About Heat
This is important to say clearly: heat itself is not the issue.
There are yoga lineages, such as Hot26 (26&2/Bikram), that use heat with very specific intention. In these traditions, heat is not a trend or a gimmick. It is a purposeful tool, taught alongside clear reasoning, physiological understanding, breath education, and methodical pacing. When taught well, heat supports circulation, focus, and the depth of the practice without sacrificing breath or awareness.
The problem arises when heat is added without intention.
When the only explanation offered is “it gets you deeper into poses,” we miss what is actually happening. Often, what’s being valued isn’t depth; it’s sweat. And sweat alone is not a measure of yoga.
In some heated flow environments, excessive heat can overwhelm students’ ability to breathe, disrupt the connection between movement and breath, and in some cases make mindful movement inaccessible altogether. When breath is lost, yoga is lost.
Adding heat simply because it is popular, marketable, or expected runs counter to the very heart of yoga. Yoga has never been about doing what is trendy. It has always been about doing what is intentional.
A Note on Language: Yoga Word or Concept of the Day
One simple place we can begin restoring meaning is through language.
Many students are confused by Sanskrit or yogic terminology—not because they aren’t capable of understanding, but because it’s often introduced without context, translation, or purpose.
What if each class included:
One word or concept
A clear explanation
Why it matters
How it applies on and off the mat
Language is not decoration. It is a doorway.
When we slow down enough to teach it, students don’t feel excluded. They feel invited.
So How Do We Create Change?
Not by shaming. Not by gatekeeping. Not by pretending the problem doesn’t exist.
Change begins when we:
Recenter teaching over performance
Value mentorship and lineage
Prioritize live learning and dialogue
Teach fewer things more deeply
Remember that yoga is relational, not transactional
Don't create teacher trainings solely to keep the lights on at an in-person yoga studio
Stop prioritizing money over creating quality yoga teachers to enrich our communities (certification mills are very common, unfortunately)
Yoga became popular. It became trendy. And in that popularity, much of its meaning became diluted.
But popularity doesn’t have to be the end of the story.
This can be a moment of remembering.
A moment of returning.
A moment of choosing to teach—not just lead movement.
If this resonates with you, let’s talk about it. Gently. Honestly. Together.
Because yoga is not lost.
But it is asking to be remembered.
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