Rediscovering Movement from Within

When I first began practicing yoga, I thought it was all about achieving the perfect posture—the elegant curve of the back in a downward dog or the symmetry of a warrior pose. Like many others, I was captivated by the polished precision I saw in pictures and classes, especially those led by teachers who seemed to have perfected every asana. I mimicked them, measuring my progress by how closely I could replicate their forms. But over time, something felt off. It was as if I was playing a role, performing rather than truly practicing.

Much later, I began to understand that this wasn’t yoga—it was gymnastics with a spiritual veneer. The real essence of yoga, as I came to see, was something far deeper, more intimate, and less scripted. It wasn’t about static postures but about reconnecting with the flow of life itself.

The Unfolding of the Present

True yoga begins when we stop trying to control the body and instead let it express itself freely. This understanding is deeply rooted in the teachings of classical yoga and tantric traditions, even if it’s often overshadowed today by a culture of precision and performance.

In texts like the Shiva Sutras and Hatha Yoga Pradipika, the movement of the body is not prescribed in rigid steps but arises naturally from the flow of prana—the life force. When the mind quiets and the senses turn inward, the body often knows what it needs to do, if only we can let go of trying to dictate its every move.

This idea of spontaneity is echoed in practices like kriyas, where movements arise naturally during meditation, or the Tandava, a free-flowing meditative dance described in some Indian (Shaivite) traditions. Both reflect a deeper truth: when the mind is empty and the heart is open, the body becomes a vessel for energy to move in its own rhythm, unbound by form or expectation.

Moving Beyond Copied Asanas

The practice of imitating asanas, as beautiful as it might look, can become a trap. It keeps us stuck in the external, disconnected from the internal flow. Yoga isn’t about making shapes with the body; it’s about experiencing the body as a living, breathing expression of the present moment. When we let go of the need to “do it right,” we create space for something much more authentic to emerge.

I remember the first time I abandoned my sequence and simply let my body move. It felt strange at first, even uncomfortable. My mind rebelled, wanting to return to the safety of the known. But as I stayed with the discomfort, something shifted. Movements began to arise—not planned or structured but fluid and alive, as if my body were finding its own path.

In that moment, yoga ceased to be something I was doing and became something that was happening. There was no distinction between movement and stillness, no sense of effort or achievement—just a feeling of being utterly present.

The Wisdom of the Body

This kind of yoga—yoga that arises from within—requires trust. Trust that the body has its own wisdom, that the energy moving through us knows where it needs to go. This isn’t easy in a culture that values control and precision, but it’s the key to rediscovering yoga as a living practice.

Classical texts hint at this wisdom. The Shandilya Upanishad describes how, in deep meditative states, the prana moves freely, cleansing the nadis and guiding the body naturally. The Hatha Yoga Pradipika speaks of the spontaneous adjustments that occur when the nadis are purified. These movements aren’t forced; they are a response to the flow of life energy.

Similarly, the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali emphasize pratyahara—the withdrawal of the senses. When the senses turn inward, the body is no longer driven by external cues but by an inner rhythm, a quiet unfolding in harmony with the present moment.

Yoga as Watching and Moving

At its core, this practice is about letting go of the mind’s need to control and allowing the body to guide. It begins with watching—observing the breath, the sensations, the impulses to move. As the watching deepens, the movement arises naturally, like water finding its way downstream. Sometimes it’s a stretch, sometimes a sway, sometimes stillness. The forms don’t matter; what matters is the flow.

This isn’t the yoga of polished poses or Instagram perfection. It’s messy, unpredictable, and deeply personal. It’s yoga as it was meant to be: an exploration, a discovery, a dance with the unknown.

For me, this shift from static postures to spontaneous flow has transformed my practice. It’s no longer about achieving; it’s about being. It’s not about copying what others do but about listening to the body and following its lead. And in that listening, I’ve found a freedom and joy I never knew was possible.

Yoga, when practiced this way, becomes a living art—a continual unfolding of the now, guided not by the mind but by the rhythm of life itself. We enter an internal realm of secret wisdom and just need to follow it. Opening up for the divine!