Is Yoga Dead? Maybe It's Time for Yoga to Die So It Can Be Reborn
The state of modern yoga, what we've lost along the way, and why I believe the practice is needed now more than ever.
Lately, I've been hearing a lot of people saying that yoga is dead.
Studios are struggling. Classes are changing. The fitness industry is constantly reinventing itself. People are chasing the next trend, the next workout, the next experience. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, the word yoga has become attached to just about everything.
Yoga sculpt. Hot yoga. TRX yoga. Power yoga. Yoga with weights. Yoga for your abs. Yoga for your booty.
And listen, I'm not against evolution. I'm not against strength, mobility, creativity, or finding new ways to make movement accessible. Our bodies change. Our culture changes. The way we practice can change, too.
But I do think we need to have an honest conversation about what we've turned yoga into.
Because maybe yoga isn't dead.
Maybe the version of yoga we've created needs to die so the practice itself can be reborn.
And I don't say that lightly.
I've been practicing yoga for more than 20 years and teaching for 14. I've experienced different styles, studied traditional teachings, learned from teachers who have dedicated their lives to this practice, and watched the Western yoga industry evolve.
I've seen some beautiful things happen. I've watched people find strength, confidence, community, and a sense of belonging through yoga.
But I've also watched us slowly strip away many of the things that made this practice so meaningful in the first place.
And I think we've reached a point where we need to ask ourselves: Are we actually practicing yoga, or have we just become really good at marketing a physical workout?
Somewhere Along the Way, We Lost the Yoga in Yoga
Yoga has become an incredibly marketable word.
It's on leggings, water bottles, workout schedules, wellness retreats, and social media advertisements. It's packaged, branded, modified, and sold in a million different ways.
And while there is nothing inherently wrong with making yoga accessible or introducing it to new people, I think we've confused accessibility with dilution.
Traditional yoga was never intended to be solely a physical practice.
The physical postures, or asana, are one part of a much larger system. Yoga is a philosophy and a way of living that offers tools for understanding ourselves, our relationships, our minds, and our place in the world.
The Eight Limbs of Yoga, outlined in Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, offer a framework for this much broader practice.
They include:
Yama: Ethical principles guiding how we interact with others and the world, including nonviolence, truthfulness, non-stealing, moderation, and non-possessiveness.
Niyama: Personal observances that guide our relationship with ourselves, including cleanliness, contentment, discipline, self-study, and surrender.
Asana: The physical postures that help cultivate steadiness, awareness, and a relationship with the body.
Pranayama: The practice of working with the breath and the movement of life force.
Pratyahara: Turning our attention inward and learning not to be constantly pulled around by external stimulation.
Dharana: Concentration and the ability to direct our attention.
Dhyana: Meditation, or sustained awareness.
Samadhi: A state of deep absorption, integration, and connection.
Look at that for a moment.
Eight limbs. Eight interconnected aspects of a practice that explores how we live, how we think, how we treat people, how we understand ourselves, and how we relate to the world.
And yet, so much of what we call yoga today revolves around what happens in a 60-minute class.
How deep can you get into a backbend? Can you hold a handstand? How sweaty can you get? How many calories can you burn?
We have taken a practice that offers an entire framework for living and reduced it to what our bodies can accomplish on a mat.
We've become so focused on the shape of the pose that we've forgotten the purpose of the practice.
When the Shala Became a Fitness Studio
I understand why studios have evolved.
Running a yoga studio is a business. Rent is expensive. Teachers need to make a living. People have endless options when deciding how to spend their time and money.
Studios have had to find ways to attract new students, fill classes, and stay relevant in an increasingly competitive fitness industry.
So we added more.
TRX. Strength training. Sculpt. Weights. HIIT. Different formats, different memberships, different experiences.
Again, I'm not saying these things are bad. I love movement. I believe in strength. I teach modern mobility alongside traditional yoga postures because I think understanding how the body moves is incredibly valuable.
But I do wonder what happens when we keep adding things to make yoga more appealing without protecting the essence of what makes it yoga.
At some point, are we still building a yoga community, or are we simply running a fitness studio that happens to have yoga on the schedule?
There used to be something special about the shala.
A place where students showed up consistently. Where teachers knew their students. Where people practiced alongside one another week after week, sometimes for years. Where the relationships extended beyond the hour spent moving through postures.
The shala wasn't just somewhere you went to get a workout.
It was somewhere you went to study, practice, observe, learn, and grow.
There was a sense of commitment. There was discipline. There was a shared understanding that the practice was something you returned to, even on the days you didn't feel like it.
And that consistency matters.
Not because everyone needs to practice six days a week or follow one particular style, but because meaningful change takes time. You cannot build a relationship with a practice, a teacher, or yourself if you're constantly starting over.
The ClassPass Culture and the Loss of Consistency
I think one of the biggest shifts in modern yoga has been the way we consume classes.
We live in an on-demand culture. We want options. We want flexibility. We want to try a different studio, a different teacher, and a different workout every day.
Platforms like ClassPass have made it easier for people to explore different studios and experiences. There are benefits to that. More people can discover movement and find classes they might not otherwise try.
But there is another side to this model.
When students bounce from studio to studio, class to class, and teacher to teacher, it becomes much harder to develop the consistency that supports a deeper practice.
And that affects more than attendance numbers.
The student-teacher relationship is an incredibly important part of learning yoga.
A teacher who sees you regularly begins to understand how you move, where you struggle, what you're working through, and how your practice is evolving.
They can recognize patterns. They can offer guidance that builds on previous experiences. They can challenge you when you need to be challenged and encourage you when you need support.
And the student begins to develop trust.
Trust allows us to be vulnerable enough to learn. It allows us to ask questions, receive feedback, and explore the parts of ourselves that might not always be comfortable.
Of course, a healthy student-teacher relationship should never mean blind obedience or unquestioned authority. A teacher should encourage curiosity, independent thinking, and personal agency.
But there is a difference between having access to endless classes and actually committing to a learning relationship.
Yoga is not simply something we consume.
It is something we cultivate.
And cultivation requires time.
The Commercialization of a Sacred Practice
This is probably where my frustration runs the deepest.
The Western world has taken something with profound philosophical, spiritual, and cultural roots and turned it into an industry.
We've taken Sanskrit words, ancient concepts, traditional practices, and philosophical teachings, and sometimes repackaged them into something that fits neatly into a marketing campaign.
We've made yoga about aesthetics, exclusivity, expensive clothing, impressive poses, luxury retreats, and perfectly curated social media feeds.
We've turned spirituality into something that can be sold.
And while teachers and studios absolutely deserve to be paid for their work, there is a difference between sustaining a practice and exploiting its image.
There is also a difference between sharing yoga and claiming ownership over it.
Yoga comes from rich philosophical and spiritual traditions that existed long before the modern Western fitness industry. We have a responsibility to approach those traditions with respect, curiosity, humility, and an understanding that there is much more to learn than what can fit into a weekend workshop or a social media post.
And we need to talk about power.
The yoga world is not immune to the problems that exist in every human institution. Teachers, gurus, studio owners, and leaders can be placed on pedestals. When admiration turns into unquestioned authority, the potential for manipulation and abuse increases.
There have been situations in the broader yoga world where power has been misused, boundaries crossed, and students harmed.
That is not the practice. That is a failure of the people entrusted to hold space for others.
No teacher should be above accountability. No lineage, certification, or level of experience should give someone permission to manipulate, intimidate, or exploit students.
A truly meaningful yoga environment should encourage self-awareness, discernment, compassion, and personal responsibility.
It should make people feel empowered, not dependent.
If we are teaching ahimsa, or non-harming, it needs to show up in how we treat the people around us. If we are teaching satya, or truthfulness, we need to be willing to look honestly at our own behavior.
We cannot teach one thing on the mat and practice the opposite off it.
What If We Brought the Eight Limbs Back Into Everyday Life?
Here's where I get excited.
Because despite everything I've said, I am not pessimistic about the future of yoga.
In fact, I think we need it more than ever.
We are living in a time when people are overwhelmed, disconnected, overstimulated, divided, anxious, and often completely disconnected from themselves.
We have more access to information than ever before, but that doesn't necessarily mean we have more self-awareness.
We are constantly reacting. Comparing. Consuming. Judging. Scrolling. Trying to keep up.
And maybe what we need isn't another workout, another productivity hack, or another person telling us how to optimize our lives.
Maybe we need to remember how to pause, reflect, listen, and take responsibility for how we show up in the world.
This is where the Eight Limbs become so relevant.
Not as concepts we memorize in a yoga teacher training, but as practices we actually bring into our everyday lives.
Yama: How we treat other people.
Ahimsa, nonviolence, isn't just about avoiding physical harm. What if we practiced it in the way we speak to our children, our partners, our coworkers, and ourselves? What if we became more aware of the words we use, the judgments we make, and the harm we cause when we react without thinking?
Satya, truthfulness, asks us to be honest. Not just with others, but with ourselves. Are we living in alignment with what we say we value? Are we willing to acknowledge when we're wrong?
Asteya, non-stealing, can invite us to look at how we take from others, whether that's time, energy, credit, or attention.
Brahmacharya, traditionally understood in relation to moderation and the wise use of energy, can encourage us to examine where our energy goes. Are we constantly giving it away to things that leave us depleted?
Aparigraha, non-possessiveness, reminds us to loosen our grip. On material things, expectations, control, and the need to have everything go our way.
Imagine what our relationships and communities might look like if we actually practiced these principles.
Niyama: How we take care of our relationship with ourselves.
Saucha, cleanliness or purification, can invite us to consider what we allow into our bodies, minds, and environments.
Santosha, contentment, reminds us to appreciate what is here instead of constantly chasing what we think will finally make us happy.
Tapas, discipline, teaches us that growth requires effort. It's showing up when it's inconvenient, following through on commitments, and doing the work even when motivation disappears.
Svadhyaya, self-study, might be one of the most important practices of all. It asks us to observe our patterns, question our assumptions, study ourselves, and become aware of the stories we tell ourselves.
Ishvara pranidhana, surrender, reminds us that we cannot control everything. We can put in the effort, act with intention, and still learn to release our attachment to the outcome.
Asana: More than making shapes with our bodies.
The physical practice can teach us patience, balance, strength, adaptability, and awareness. It can show us where we push too hard and where we hold back. It gives us an opportunity to practice being present in our bodies rather than constantly living in our heads.
Pranayama: Learning to work with our breath.
Our breath is always with us. We can use simple breathing practices to create space between a stressful moment and our reaction to it. A few intentional breaths can remind us to pause, soften, and approach a situation with more awareness.
Pratyahara: Learning to turn inward.
In a world that constantly demands our attention, what would happen if we intentionally stepped away from the noise? Put down the phone. Stop comparing. Stop seeking constant external validation. Spend a little time listening to ourselves.
Dharana: Training our attention.
Our attention is pulled in a thousand directions every day. Concentration practices teach us to direct our focus instead of allowing every notification, thought, and distraction to take us somewhere else.
Dhyana: Creating space for meditation.
Rather than constantly filling every quiet moment with stimulation, we learn to sit, observe, and develop a more steady relationship with our thoughts.
Samadhi: Experiencing connection beyond the individual self.
While samadhi is a profound concept that cannot be reduced to a quick daily exercise, it points toward a deeper sense of integration and connection. It reminds us that the practice is ultimately about something much greater than mastering a pose or improving our physical performance.
These aren't just philosophical ideas.
They are tools.
Tools for navigating relationships, managing stress, understanding ourselves, becoming more compassionate, and making more conscious choices.
And I believe these are exactly the tools our society needs.
Yoga Needs to Evolve, But It Doesn't Need to Lose Its Roots
I want to be clear: I don't think we need to go backward.
I don't believe yoga should be frozen in time, practiced in only one way, or made inaccessible to people who don't fit a particular image of what a yogi is supposed to look like.
The practice has evolved throughout its history. Different traditions, teachers, and communities have interpreted and developed yoga in different ways. There is room for creativity, modern movement science, strength, mobility, and new approaches to teaching.
I believe in making yoga relevant to the world we live in today.
I believe in teaching people how to move well, understand their bodies, build strength, and develop mobility.
I believe in making yoga welcoming to different bodies, ages, abilities, and backgrounds.
But evolution should add depth, not erase it.
We can teach a physically challenging class and still introduce students to breath awareness. We can teach mobility and strength while encouraging non-attachment to performance. We can create accessible classes while maintaining the integrity of the teachings.
We can run successful studios without turning every aspect of the practice into a product.
We can build communities where students feel supported, teachers are respected, and leaders are held accountable.
We can modernize the way we teach without forgetting what we're teaching.
The physical practice can be the doorway, but it should never have to be the entire house.
Maybe Yoga Needs to Die So We Can Remember Why We Started
So, is yoga dead?
Maybe a certain version of it is.
Maybe the version built around perfect bodies, impressive poses, trendy class formats, endless memberships, and social media validation has run its course.
Maybe the version that prioritizes filling a room over building a community needs to be reconsidered.
Maybe the version that places teachers on pedestals instead of encouraging students to develop their own discernment needs to disappear.
And maybe that's not such a bad thing.
Because when something falls away, there is room to rebuild.
I would love to see a return to the shala as a place of consistent study and community. A place where students are known, teachers continue to learn, and the practice extends beyond the hour on the mat.
I would love to see studios place more value on developing thoughtful, knowledgeable teachers than on creating the next marketable class format.
I would love to see yoga teachers feel confident sharing the philosophical teachings without feeling like they have to apologize for the spiritual roots of the practice.
I would love to see students become curious again. To ask questions. To study. To reflect. To understand that yoga isn't about being the most flexible person in the room or having the most advanced practice.
And most importantly, I would love to see us take these teachings off the mat.
Because the world doesn't need more people who can do a beautiful handstand but cannot practice compassion.
It doesn't need more people who can hold an advanced posture but cannot sit with discomfort.
It doesn't need more people who talk about mindfulness but never examine how they treat others.
It needs people who are willing to do the work.
The uncomfortable work. The reflective work. The work of becoming more aware of our actions, our thoughts, our patterns, and our impact on the people around us.
That is yoga, too.
The Practice Is Still Here. Are We Willing to Return to It?
After more than 20 years of practicing and 14 years of teaching, I still believe in yoga with my whole heart.
Not because it has made me perfect. Not because I have figured everything out. And certainly not because I can do every pose.
I believe in it because it continues to challenge me to look inward. To question myself. To become more aware. To recognize where I have work to do.
I believe in it because the teachings offer practical ways to navigate the beautiful, messy, frustrating, complicated experience of being human.
And I believe that now, more than ever, we need a practice that reminds us how to slow down, think critically, connect with one another, and take responsibility for the way we move through the world.
I don't want yoga to become a museum piece. I want it to be alive. I want it to grow, adapt, and meet people where they are.
But I also want it to have roots.
I want us to remember that yoga is not just something we do with our bodies. It is something we practice through our choices, our relationships, our discipline, our awareness, and the way we live.
So maybe yoga isn't dead.
Maybe it's asking us to wake up.
Maybe it's asking us to stop chasing the next version of the practice and start understanding the one we've already been given.
And maybe this is exactly the moment when we get to rebuild something more meaningful.
Less performance. More practice.
Less consumption. More connection.
Less ego. More self-study.
Less focus on the pose. More focus on the person practicing it.
Let's evolve. Let's question. Let's keep learning.
But let's not forget what yoga is.
Because the world doesn't need another fitness trend.
It needs yoga.
And I, for one, am not ready to let that go.
— Jennifer Smith
Bendy Jenny