You Can’t Always Get What You Want (But You Might Get the Yoga You Need)

I recently spent a weekend away, eager to immerse myself in a workshop with a renowned Iyengar Yoga teacher. I arrived expecting the familiar comfort of structured learning—handouts, thoughtful discussions, and detailed demonstrations. I envisioned two days filled with intellectual stimulation and practical takeaways, much like the workshops I’d previously enjoyed on scoliosis, asymmetry, and the intricacies of the feet.

Instead, I found myself in what felt like a yoga bootcamp.

From the moment we began, it was relentless practice: pose after pose, with minimal instruction. If confusion arose, a brief demonstration might follow, but mostly it was a marathon of asanas. I confess, I spent a significant portion of the weekend glancing at the clock, a growing sense of frustration bubbling inside me. I’d sacrificed my birthday weekend for this?

Looking around at the students early on, the teacher proclaimed, “You practice, but you don’t practice.” A painful truth. I’d fallen into the habit of piecemeal yoga—15 minutes here, 10 minutes there, following random YouTube videos. While I’d recently made an effort to be more intentional, focusing on poses for my leg length discrepancy, her words exposed the shallowness of my commitment. I was showing up on the mat, but was I truly engaging? I wasn’t alone in this approach it seemed.

This workshop was a brutal lesson in “learning by doing.” There were no lectures to hide behind, no demos to punctuate the flow. It was pure, unadulterated practice. My body, not my mind, was the student.

A favorite teacher of mine, Jason Crandell, often says, “let the yoga do the work.” I began to embody his words. This teacher, with her crisp clarity and demanding presence, facilitated a space where the yoga itself became the teacher. Anecdotes of B.K.S. Iyengar punctuated her instructions, reinforcing the authenticity of the method. I left without notes, but my body and nervous system carried the imprint of the experience.

As much as I resisted the process, I couldn’t deny the results. Days later, I still felt the profound effects of the practice. It was a stark reminder: progress requires effort.

This experience forced me to confront a universal truth: results don’t come for free. We must show up and do the work. I’ve witnessed this time and again in the orthopedic clinic where I led classes and within my own family—the misguided belief that change can be achieved with minimal effort. But growth, especially when dealing with pain or specific goals, demands dedication.

My teacher Parveen Nair’s words came back to me: “Yoga isn’t comfortable; if you wanted comfort, you could stay home on the couch.” Yoga is about connecting with your body and mind, a process that inherently can involve discomfort. While I don’t subscribe to the “no pain, no gain” mentality, I was reminded that “no work, no reward” is a fundamental principle.

I’m not advocating for constant striving or productivity in every yoga session. Sometimes, a gentle stretch or some quiet moments are all you need. But clarity of intention is essential. If your goal is strength, flexibility, or pain reduction, aimless practice won’t suffice. Physical therapy and physiotherapy understand this—they operate with specific outcomes and treatment plans.

My yoga practice has objectives, and this workshop served as a powerful catalyst. It forced me to re-evaluate my approach and recognize the necessity of dedicated effort.

So, here’s my takeaway, both for you and for myself: Define your goals and map out a path to achieve them. It won’t be easy, but it will be transformative.

If you need help cultivating consistency, check out my post on the subject.