Yoga Pathways

I always thought my yoga practice would lead me to blissful santosha—contentment with what is. And honestly, it’s pretty easy to feel content when your body’s doing what you want, stretching and moving without complaint. But lately, my body has staged a full-on rebellion. Enter pain: my new, unsolicited guru.

This guru is relentless—showing up uninvited, critiquing my every move, and sabotaging my favourite poses. It’s also keeping me from the things I love; I haven’t been out on my bike for ten days, and it’s seriously affecting my mood (and my likeability). If pain were a student, it would ignore every cue and fling itself into every pose kamikaze style—usually with disastrous results.

Pain is forcing me to adapt my teaching style: less demonstration, more explanation. It’s not exactly a new concept, but now it’s a necessity rather than a choice. I’m sharpening my teaching skills (again!!!), finding creative ways to communicate movement without actually moving. Who knew pain would be the one to upgrade my teaching toolkit? (Though next time, I’d prefer a less dramatic method.)

I’m happy to admit that I’m not that used to real pain. Obviously, I’ve had the odd tweak or twinge, but this is different. This is the kind of pain that makes you question everything, that hijacks your mood, your patience, and your plans. It’s humbling—and it’s given me a whole new respect for anyone living with chronic pain. I can barely handle a few weeks of this; the thought of dealing with it long-term and maintaining any good relationships feels unlikely.

I also want to say a heartfelt thank you to the many wonderful people in our community who have reached out with recommendations, advice, and support. Your kindness and generosity have been a bright spot in this challenging time. It’s yet another reminder about what yoga is, It’s not just about poses—it’s about connection, compassion, and showing up for each other.

This terrible guru is teaching me a lot. It’s teaching me to let go of my attachment to a pain-free body, to practice santosha not just when things are easy, but when they’re tough. It’s teaching me to laugh at myself, to adapt, and to appreciate the strength of those who quietly endure so much more.

If you see me teaching with a grimace, know I’m practicing non-attachment, not just to pain, but to the idea that I am invincible. And maybe, just maybe, this unwelcome guru is helping me find a deeper kind of resilience—one that shines even when the body protests.