"Right" or "Wrong"

Dear Friend,

I occasionally encounter questions about the “right” and “wrong” way of doing a yoga pose (yes, I am intentionally using quotation marks). These questions are usually asked by concerned students who worry that they might be practicing incorrectly. I often find myself offering a brief answer that feels unsatisfying, both for them and for me. So I thought it might be worthwhile to share my perspective on this topic with a bit more clarity and depth.

From a broader vantage point, I've noticed a curious similarity between the traditional, old-school methods of teaching yoga and today's social-media-influencer-driven trends. Both tend to rely on decisive, definitive—often binary—instructions about how a yoga pose should be performed.

In the twentieth century, renowned yoga masters such as B.K.S. Iyengar and Pattabhi Jois, who played a major role in popularizing yoga as we know it today, developed highly structured systems of yoga-asana practice (yoga postures and movements). Mr. Iyengar devoted much of his life to refining what could almost be described as the engineering of the human body into detailed geometric shapes, often using a wide variety of props and tools that he designed for this purpose. Pattabhi Jois was somewhat less concerned with precise bodily shapes and instead placed greater emphasis on dogmatic structure and sequence.

While both these figures as well as others made tremendous contributions to the global spread of yoga, it is also important to acknowledge that their approaches were developed with limited knowledge of modern human anatomy, physiology, biomechanics, and psychology. As a result, despite their enormous influence, some aspects of their methods have occasionally caused harm—particularly when applied rigidly to bodies and cultural contexts very different from those in which these practices originated from.

Today, as social media has come to dominate many discourses—including those about yoga—we see a different but oddly familiar phenomenon. Prominent yoga influencers frequently promote simplified, attention-grabbing messages such as “5 ways to transform your wheel pose” or “3 things you can do to put your leg behind your head in 21 days.” In many ways, this mirrors earlier patterns: authoritative voices offering overly simplified or uber definitive generic guidance that may not adequately account for the complexity and uniqueness of actual human beings and their bodies. When these messages collide with an ego that is eager to achieve impressive physical goals or gain recognition and status, the result can often be a damaging friction between ambition and reality.

A brief disclaimer:

What follows is simply my personal perspective, based on my own experience and observations. If another approach works well for you, please feel free to take what I’m saying with a generous grain of salt. Ultimately, the most important thing is that your yoga practice provides meaningful benefits and—perhaps even more importantly—keeps you out of harm’s way.

So, what is the "right" and "wrong" way to do a yoga pose?

There is no single definitive correct answer to this question. Still, I would like to attempt to answer it without hiding behind so much nuance that the result becomes more confusing than helpful.

To begin, we should remember something fundamental: a yoga pose is not an isolated object or event. In reality, it is simply an individual person organizing their body in a particular way in space, in relationship to gravity.

This statement may sound philosophical, but it actually has very practical implications. It should inform every choice we make when positioning our limbs, directing our attention, or articulating different parts of the body. What we call yoga poses are essentially templates—general guidelines for organizing the body. They serve as starting points for a process of exploration and refinement.

Understanding the intention of a pose can be extremely helpful. What it aims to teach or reveal? What kind of experience might it provide? Which areas of the body should be actively engaged, and which can remain relatively relaxed? We can also consider how to articulate the different parts of the body and how to breathe in a way that complements this specific configuration of limbs in space. 

Workshops, trainings, and specific designated classes can certainly provide valuable ideas and inspiration. But simply spending time in a pose—consciously, attentively, and with the right attitude and intention—can also become fertile ground for personal inquiry and insight.

An example: Tree Pose

Take Tree Pose (Vrikshasana) as an example. We are asked to stand on one leg while bending the other, placing the foot against the inner thigh of the standing leg. Often we are also encouraged to stand upright and extend the arms toward the sky.

What is the purpose of this pose?

At a basic level, it teaches balance on one foot. This requires the body’s innate balancing mechanisms to constantly make subtle adjustments in weight distribution through the base of support—in this case, the standing foot—without interference, while the rest of the body maintains a sense of steadiness and calm.

The pose also invites the opening of the hip on the bent-leg side—an external rotation with some degree of abduction—without the support of a conventional solid surface for leverage. It can lead to some inquiry into what adjustments can make this experience go deeper.

Additionally, the pose may reveal how the eyes and the breath influence the state of equilibrium, both physically and mentally. We can experiment with shifting the gaze or altering the rhythm of the breath and see if it noticeably affects stability.

These are only a few of the many avenues of exploration that exist in almost every yoga posture.

The practice of inquiry

Once we position ourselves according to the general template of a pose, we can begin to observe how the body feels—both in specific areas and as a whole.

After we graduate from the primary stage of getting to know the basics, we can then start to experiment with different articulations such as: actively straightening the standing leg, adjusting the angle of the pressing foot, rotating or squaring the pelvis, lengthening through the tailbone or pubic bone, shifting the direction of the gaze, or regulating the rhythm of the breath.

What we are ultimately cultivating is a state of yoga: one that is steady and stable on all levels—body, breath, and mind—yet also soft, restful, and at ease. It is a state of calm, awakened presence. Even when appropriate difficulty arises, there remains a sense of equanimity and connection with each moment of experience—body, breath, and mind—free from projection of preconceived ideas and other biases or at least being conscious when they're present.

Sometimes this requires enhancing engagement and effort. At other times it calls for relaxation and surrender. Navigating this balance is, in essence, the art of practicing yoga-asana. In that sense, this is what it means to perform a pose in the “right” way.

As we gradually loosen our identification with the external form of the pose—its geometry, mechanics, or any idealized image of how it should look or feel like—we begin to perceive the body as a living, breathing, multidimensional organism.

When that shift begins to happen, the practice moves closer to what could be called actual yoga. At that point, the focus shifts from achieving physical shapes to exploring and deepening the internal state of yoga itself. Until then, we are largely in a preparatory stage, a stage that has its value and many benefits, but eventually it must be transcended if the full potential of yoga is to unfold.

Taking ownership of the practice

I’m very aware of how difficult it can be to move away from automatically following instructions on cue. It is often much easier to turn off our sense of ownership and allow ourselves to be led. Afterall, our daily lives are already full of responsibilities and decisions. When we arrive at a yoga class, it can feel relieving to temporarily surrender that burden and simply be told what to do. There is nothing inherently wrong with this. It is entirely understandable.

Nevertheless, it may be worth asking ourselves from time to time whether we can dedicate even a small portion of our bandwidth to taking ownership of the practice, at our own pace and discovering benefits that extend beyond the nice feeling we may experience after a class.

When we do—even if only briefly—the process might look something like this:

We enter a posture according to the instructions we are given. Then we pause and take a breath, allowing ourselves to feel into the body. If we notice tension or strain, we experiment with small adjustments. If the body feels stable and safe, we may explore ways of either intensifying or softening the experience, or pursing other avenues of inquiry.

We might press more firmly into the ground, engage certain muscles, increase a joint angle, or expand a range of motion. Alternatively, we might reduce effort, step back from the maximum range, use a prop, prioritize smooth and steady breathing, or simply attend to more subtle aspects of the body and the practice.

At the same time, we remain aware of our relationship with the pose.

• Are we ambitiously pushing too hard?

• Are we avoiding challenge because of aversion or some other form of resistance?

• Are we judging or evaluating our performance in the background?

• What attitude is predominant as we hold or move the body in a particular way?

Another example: Warrior I

A conventional instruction might be to place the back foot at roughly a 45-degree angle and press firmly into it while bending the front knee to about 90 degrees pointing it straight ahead.

After following these cues and taking a few breaths, I might notice pressure in the hip of the back leg. The sensation doesn’t feel like a healthy stretch—it feels sharp and unsettling.

I start to experiment by adjusting the angle of the back foot (trying a more open or narrow angle). I try to widen my stance. I lift the heel so the foot so it presses through the toes rather than being flat. Each small change gives me new sensory information about how the posture interacts with my body.

Meanwhile, I may notice that bending the front knee more generously activates certain muscles. The sensation is intense, but it doesn’t feel wrong. So I try and stay with it, keeping my breath slow, my face and shoulders relaxed, and my gaze steady.

In this way, I remain open to all sensory feedback. When appropriate I experiment with making some changes, taking a breath or two, and continue to feel into my body. The pose becomes an ongoing conversation rather than a rigid performance.

If possible, I add another dimension to my practice—I try to remain aware of the assumptions I may be projecting onto the practice—my ideas about how the pose should or should not look, the impressions I get from others in the room, or the way I react to the vibe and tone of voice set by the teacher.

In summary, what is the “right” way?

It is to honor the spirit of the template without becoming rigidly attached to it; to remain present, attentive, and mentally flexible so that adjustments can be made when necessary. It may involve using props, modifying angles and shapes, or choosing variations that allow the breath to flow freely while maintaining a calm and steady internal state. 

When encountering difficulty, it is important that we approach it with curiosity, patience, kindness, and a playful spirit—optionally moving gradually into the challenge without being overzealous or ambitious. If the difficulty becomes intense but remains pain-free, we may stay with it briefly, observing whether the breath can slow down and the mind settle. 

If equilibrium cannot be restored, we simply ease out of the posture to a point where we can be calm—perhaps with a small inner smile of gratitude and contentment.

A yoga pose is an extraordinary opportunity to become intimate with our body, breath, and mind. It provides a remarkable setting for us to get to know ourselves at the deepest level.

And what is the “wrong” way?

The answer here is actually quite simple: a pose is wrong if it causes pain or injury—whether immediately, in the short term, or over time.

There should be little ambiguity about this. If you suspect that a teacher’s instructions may compromise your body in any way, it is perfectly reasonable to modify or ignore them. If you are uncertain but feel that something isn’t right, choosing the safer option is often wise.

If you sustain an injury in a class, it may also be worth reconsidering whether that particular teaching environment is suitable for you.

There should really be no restrictions to modifying a pose. The prescribed shapes with their so called rules and regulations should never prevent us from listening to our body and freeing ourselves to make conscious choices that allow us to embrace equally both our potential and limitations. No teacher, as great as they are, can know what it's really like to be in our body. When we start to understand more deeply the central features and essence of each pose we can modify while staying true to them, but until then we would be better off dropping any commitment to structure and keeping all options on the table.

What is often mistaken for “right versus wrong” is actually effective versus ineffective practice. Exploring this distinction requires deeper study—of yoga philosophy, anatomy, and the mechanics of the various postures—ideally under the guidance of an experienced teacher. 

At the same time, our own bodies can become a powerful source of insight as we observe how the way we practice affects them not only during our time on the mat but also the quality of our daily lives.

One final thought: if you come across a teacher who discourages or prevents you from taking ownership of your practice—insisting that everything must be done exactly as instructed—consider that a major warning sign. Beyond the obvious physical risks, such an environment can significantly limit your development in yoga and keep you from experiencing its full potential.

If you find yourself curious about these kinds of topics - join a workshop, a retreat, or any other event on offer.

Looking forward to sharing yoga with you!

Wishing everyone peace and happiness,

♡ Oren

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