How Do You Know If You’re Getting Better at Yoga?

When you first start yoga, I don't think it matters very much what kind of yoga you're doing.

Hatha, Vinyasa, Iyengar, Ashtanga, Yin. These words don't mean much when you're still trying to work out which foot goes where, whether everyone else knows something you don't and why Downward Facing Dog is apparently considered a resting position.

You find a class you like. You find a teacher you trust. You turn up.

And, for a while, that's enough.

But then something happens.

You start to know the names of some of the poses. You hear Trikonasana and your body begins moving before you've translated it into Triangle Pose. You discover that there are different ways of breathing and that sometimes we're moving with the breath and sometimes we're deliberately staying still.

Perhaps you start noticing that one yoga class feels quite different from another.

And somewhere amongst all of that, the odd bit of yoga philosophy starts to make its way off the mat and into your life.

Your practice is deepening.

I've been thinking about this a lot as I've planned my teaching for the next few months.

What does progress in yoga look like?

It's an interesting question because yoga sits rather uncomfortably with our usual ideas about progress.

We live in a world of targets, milestones and measurable improvement. Faster. Stronger. Further. More.

And it's very easy to bring that thinking onto a yoga mat.

Can I touch my toes yet?
Can I do the bind?
Can I balance for longer?
Can I get my leg behind my head?

Physical progress is real, of course. If you practise regularly, you may become stronger, more mobile and better balanced. Things that once felt impossible may become perfectly ordinary.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying that.

But it seems a rather limited way of measuring a yoga practice.

Progress might also be noticing that you've stopped holding your breath when something is difficult.

It might be recognising when you're pushing too hard.

It might be becoming curious about why we do something rather than simply copying the shape.

It might be understanding a little more about where yoga came from, or discovering that the yoga we practise today has a complicated and fascinating history.

It might be hearing an idea in class — about contentment, non-attachment, effort, kindness or attention — and finding yourself thinking about it three days later when there isn't a yoga mat anywhere in sight.

None of these things will make an impressive photograph.

They may, however, be signs of a practice becoming more interesting.

So I have a plan

I like having a teaching plan that looks a few months ahead.

Not because I want us racing towards some predetermined yoga destination. There won't be an exam at Christmas and nobody gets a certificate for completing Triangle Pose.

I simply like the idea of a roadmap.

Rather than every class existing entirely on its own, we can spend enough time exploring something to begin to understand it.

So over the coming months, we're going to spend four to six weeks at a time looking at some of the different traditions and approaches that have shaped modern yoga.

We're beginning with Hatha Yoga.

We'll slow things down enough to explore some of the foundations: the poses, the breath, staying rather than always moving, and some of the history and philosophy behind what we're doing.

From there, we'll explore other approaches to practice.

There'll be Vinyasa, where the relationship between breath and movement becomes much more central. We'll look at sequencing, rhythm and transitions - including what happens in those moments between one pose and the next.

I'd also like us to spend some time with Iyengar-Influenced practice: precision, alignment, props, observation and what we discover when we stay with something for a little onger.

And there'll be Yin and Restorative practices, where the emphasis shifts again.

Less doing. More allowing.

I haven't decided exactly what order we'll do all of this in, Some practices lend themselves particularly well to certain times of year, and I'd rather leave us enough flexibility to respond to that than stick rigidly to a timetable I made in September.

The roadmap matters more than the order.

What I want is for us to have enough time with each approach to notice how it changes the practice - and perhaps to discover that there are ways to practising yoga that we haven't really explored before.

We aren't trying to complete yoga

Four or six weeks of Hatha won't mean that we have "done Hatha". Six weeks of Vinyasa certainly won't make us experts in Vinyasa.

That's really not the point.

I want to give us enough time to become curious.

To notice the differences. To understand a little more about why we're doing what we're doing. To experience the same familiar body differently depending on how we approach the practice.

And maybe even discover if there is something that particularly speaks to us.

Because eventually I think it's useful to know more about the yoga you're practising.

You don't need to know it at the beginning.

At the beginning, turning up is plenty.

But if you've been practising for months or years, I think there's something wonderful about realising that your knowledge has grown alongside your practice.

You know more.

You notice more.

You have more choices.

And that's the kind of progress in yoga I'm most interested in.

Progress without turning yoga into another thing we have to achieve