There I was, mindlessly scrolling Instagram on the tarmac, waiting for our plane to take off, when I came across the title of an article in The Atlantic:
“What Happened to Yoga?”
Well. As someone who has been committed to yoga for the last 16 years—and has spent four of those years as a small yoga studio owner—this felt both alarming and provocative enough to send me on a hunt for a physical copy of the magazine.
Needless to say, we ended up with a digital subscription (and print, soon to come) instead.
The article talks about how yoga went from something considered niche, exotic, and countercultural in the U.S. to an absolute behemoth of the wellness industry. At some point, yoga stopped being simply a class you took and became a lifestyle. Even, perhaps, a personality.
Being a “yogi” came to mean something beyond what happened on your mat. Maybe you ate a certain way. You meditated. You prioritized sleep. You were interested in spirituality, mindfulness, and living a little more intentionally.
And now, wellness seems to be shape-shifting again.
We have rings tracking the quality of our sleep. GLP-1s. Protein added to seemingly everything. Creatine. Cold plunges. Face sculpting. Longevity routines. Morning routines. Supplements for the supplements.
There is always something else to optimize.
And I started wondering where yoga currently fits into a culture so deeply interested in becoming better.
Because so much of what yoga has taught me is almost the opposite.
Release your grip.
Surrender.
Things take a longgggggg time.
Pay attention.
Let go of the ego.
Be here.
Maybe even—radical thought—accept the body you’re currently living in.
I came of age in the world of ’90s heroin-chic thinness. I was a dancer in an industry that prioritized aesthetics above almost everything else. There was SlimFast and Weight Watchers and fat-free everything and Jared from Subway somehow being presented to us as the epitome of health.
There was always something about the body that needed fixing.
So when I walked into the world of yoga, it felt like a breath of fresh air.
Actually, it felt a little like a revolution.
Here was a practice telling me:
You are enough.
Your body is enough.
Your worth is not determined by what you accomplish, where you live, how much money you make, how productive you are, how thin you are, how sculpted you are, or how impressive your life looks from the outside.
You are simply enough.
And sixteen years later, I still stand behind that.
I’m not against wanting to grow. I’m not against getting stronger or eating more protein or losing weight or sleeping better or doing things that make us feel good in our skin. I love learning. I love evolving. I hope I’m doing both until I’m a very old lady.
But I don’t want my relationship with myself to become one endless renovation project.
Maybe wellness doesn’t always have to be about becoming a newer, shinier, stronger, more optimized version of ourselves.
Maybe sometimes wellness is learning to enjoy the person who is already here.
Which is why it felt particularly serendipitous that, around the same time I came across that article, I also came across these words:
“Your relationship with yourself cannot be built entirely around improvement. At some point, you have to become someone you are allowed to enjoy being. You get to be proud of who you are. Present tense.”
Present tense.
Not ten pounds from now.
Not when you finally nail the pose.
Not when your sleep score improves.
Not when you’re stronger, richer, calmer, more productive, more enlightened, or somehow finally doing it all “right.”
Now.
Enjoy yourself.
And Move With Love.
Xoxo,
Holly
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