Whatever happened to the home practice?
Remember the 90s? The Spice Girls were on repeat, Friends ruled TV, and yoga… well, yoga was a very different world. Back then, if you were serious about yoga, you didn’t just show up to class once or twice a week. Nope. You were expected to roll out your mat at home. Every. Single. Day.
In fact, when I started practicing Ashtanga yoga, my teacher made it clear from day one: If you’re not ready to commit to a six-day-a-week home practice, this isn’t for you. I’m serious—there was no sugarcoating it. You were either in or out. And while it might sound extreme now, there was something profoundly valuable about that expectation.
The home practice wasn’t optional. It was the next phase.
The deeper you wanted to go, the more responsibility you had to take for your own practice. No teacher could hold your hand through it—you had to explore your body, breath, and mind without external guidance. And let me tell you… I learned more about myself on my living room floor than I ever did in the studio.
So why aren’t we talking about home practice anymore?
The rise of studio culture (and the loss of self-inquiry).
Somewhere along the way, the home practice fell out of fashion. Yoga studios became more accessible, offering a buffet of styles, teachers, and time slots. Apps and online classes made it even easier to “follow along” without thinking too hard about what your body actually needs.
And while all of this has made yoga more available—which is a great thing—it’s also created a kind of dependence. Many of us have stopped listening to ourselves and started relying on external instruction for every breath, every movement, every pose.
But here’s the thing: Yoga is a practice of self-inquiry.
It’s about learning to trust your own body, your own intuition, your own rhythm. And that kind of deep listening? It doesn’t always happen in a studio. It happens when you’re alone, with no one watching, no agenda, no expectations—just you and your breath.
Reclaiming the home practice.
It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be long. You don’t need incense, candles, or a perfectly curated playlist. All you need is a mat (or a patch of floor) and a few quiet moments.
Here’s how to start small:
Set a timer for 5 minutes. That’s it. Just five.
Sit down (or lie down), take a breath, and move however your body feels called to move. Maybe it’s a few cat-cows, maybe it’s child’s pose.
No plan. No rules. No judgement. Just see what happens.
What’s magical about home practice is that it’s yours. It’s where you learn to trust yourself, to lean into your own needs, and to listen more deeply than ever before.
And the best part? The more you do it, the less you’ll need me—or anyone else—to tell you what’s right for you. You already know.
Curious about starting your own home practice? Next time we’re in class, ask me for a few poses to begin with. I’d love to help you create something that’s uniquely yours.
