Why I Teach Hatha Yoga in This "Vinyasa" Era

On the surface, it might seem like a question of style: Do I teach Vinyasa yoga or Hatha yoga? The easy answer is that I do teach Vinyasa yoga—but I actually don't. And I teach Hatha yoga—but I actually don't. Let me explain.

When I first started practicing yoga, Vinyasa as we know it today simply wasn't a thing yet. Modern Vinyasa classes are often flowy sessions where movements sync with the breath—one breath per movement. You move from pose to pose, often with music, and there's a dance-like quality to the transitions. Classes vary a lot, of course, but breath teaching isn't always emphasized deeply.

To understand where this style comes from, we need to go back in time.

In the 1990s, Hollywood celebrities like Sting and Madonna popularized yoga in the West by practicing Ashtanga Vinyasa—a demanding, physical style. This style traces back to the 1970s, when Pattabhi Jois began teaching Westerners in India. He called it Ashtanga yoga: a fixed sequence starting with Sun Salutations, with Vinyasa (linking movements) between poses. It was intense—Pattabhi Jois described it as "blood boiling."

But the roots go even further, to the 1930s. Tirumalai Krishnamacharya, a prominent figure in the development of modern postural yoga, taught at the Mysore palace. He linked separate asanas into meaningful sequences, calling this approach Vinyasa Krama—placing postures in a specific order with intention. Sun Salutations were already part of the practice by then. Krishnamacharya influenced Pattabhi Jois (who developed Ashtanga) and others.

Over time, the strict Ashtanga sequence faded in many classes, but the linking element remained. Poses are often held for fewer breaths (or not held at all), flowing continuously. Music entered the picture, and influences like Shiva Rea—who blended yoga and dance in California in the 1990s—added more fluidity and dance quality.

In my classes, I do place postures in a certain order and sometimes use linking movements (Vinyasa) to help establish a breathing and moving rhythm. So in that sense, yes—I teach Vinyasa.

Now, let's look at Hatha yoga.

Today, when people say "Hatha," it often means a generic term: anything that's not Vinyasa, Yin, hot yoga, or Ashtanga. In the 20th century, Hatha was commonly taught in big ashrams and centers in India as a path of transformation. Asana was just one element—alongside pranayama, chanting, and meditation. Asana prepared the body; it wasn't rigid or sport-like. It contrasted with more demanding physical styles, sometimes seen as the "ashram style" opposite to Pattabhi Jois's approach.

But Hatha goes much further back.

In the 19th century, asana practice as we know it wasn't widespread in the West. In India, yoga was largely philosophy, logic, and scripture for educated society. Meanwhile, wandering ascetics—mystics, magicians, and outcasts—practiced Hatha. They were often viewed negatively: as thieves by the British, or marginal figures in Indian society.

These were the Hatha yogis of the medieval period (around the 9th–10th centuries onward), part of traditions like the Nath movement.

Yoga has always been a path to self-realization and liberation, with multiple approaches: Jnana Yoga (wisdom and philosophy), Bhakti Yoga (devotion and surrender), Karma Yoga (selfless action). Most paths aimed for realization after leaving the body.

Then a new way emerged: achieving realization while still in the body—by working through the body. Unlike earlier views that saw the body as something to mortify or transcend, this tradition treated the body as a means, not an end. By modulating prana (life force) through cleansed channels (nadis), individual consciousness could merge with universal consciousness.

Preparation starts with cleansing: physical practices (like neti pot for nasal cleansing), basic pranayama (e.g., alternate nostril breathing), and asanas to strengthen the body and clear blockages. Then come breath retention and deeper modulation of prana, leading to transformation and eventual realization.

In modern yoga, we mostly do asanas, perhaps some basic pranayama and bandhas (locks to contain prana), moving toward stillness and meditation. But true Hatha is vast—it's an entire path.

Since I'm not initiated into any classical Hatha lineage or tradition, I can't claim to teach "Hatha yoga" in that full sense.

So, to sum it up: What I practice and teach is mainly asanas (postures). I include some basic pranayama, bandhas, and sequences with linking movements when it supports the breath and flow. I hold space for participants, inviting whatever transformation can arise—even from these "preparatory" elements. I strongly believe that even basic practices carry the power to bring us closer to realizing who we really are.

That's why I teach this way in our Vinyasa-dominated era.