shakaizen
Asana
Asana taught for its original purpose: preparing the body to sit comfortably for pranayama and meditation. The focus is on structural alignment and sustainability rather than flexibility or performance, building capacity that serves practice for decades.
"The posture should be steady and comfortable." — Yoga Sutra 2.46
In contemporary usage, “yoga” has become synonymous with physical postures—the sequences taught in studios, the shapes people post on Instagram, the stretching routines marketed as ancient wisdom. This is a profound misunderstanding of what asana actually is and what it’s meant to accomplish.
Asana—literally “seat” in Sanskrit—originally referred to the position one takes for meditation. The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, written around 400 CE, dedicate exactly three sutras to asana out of 196 total. The definition given: sthira sukham asanam—the posture should be steady and comfortable.
That’s it. Not flexible, impressive or photogenic. Steady and comfortable enough to sit for extended periods without the body becoming a distraction during pranayama and meditation.
The later Hatha Yoga texts (Hatha Yoga Pradipika, Gheranda Samhita) expanded the repertoire of postures to 84 classical asanas, but the purpose remained consistent: preparing the physical body to support deeper practices. Asana was never the destination—it was always preparation for what comes after.
What happened to asana:
When yoga was exported to the West in the 20th century, it encountered a culture obsessed with physical fitness, achievement, and visible progress. Asana—the most externally visible aspect of yoga—became the entire practice. Studios proliferated teaching “yoga” that was essentially calisthenics with Sanskrit names. The internal practices—pranayama, meditation, philosophy—became optional add-ons or were dropped entirely.
Multiple branded “styles” emerged, each claiming authenticity while diverging significantly from source texts: Ashtanga, Vinyasa, Power Yoga, Hot Yoga, Yin Yoga, and countless others. Many of these innovations have value, but they’re modern creations, not ancient lineages. The confusion between contemporary interpretation and traditional teaching has become nearly total.
The result: millions of people practice “yoga” weekly without understanding what the postures are actually preparing them for, or that the physical practice is supposed to lead somewhere beyond more complex poses.
How asana is taught at Shakaizen:
Asana practice here returns to its original function: building capacity for sustained sitting, developing breath awareness, creating stability in the body so the mind has a foundation for concentration.
Alignment over achievement: Postures are taught for structural integrity and sustainability rather than depth or flexibility. The goal is to develop a practice that serves you for decades, not to push into impressive shapes that accumulate injury over time. Alignment principles come from understanding what the body actually needs, not from aesthetic ideals or performance standards.
Breath integration: Every asana is an opportunity to refine breath awareness. How does the shape affect breathing capacity? Where does breath become restricted? Can you maintain steady, controlled breath throughout the posture? This isn’t incidental—it’s preparing the nervous system for pranayama, where breath control becomes the primary practice.
Progression based on readiness: Asana practice adapts to where your body actually is, not where you think it should be. Some days require challenge and intensity. Other days require gentleness and restoration. The practice responds to reality rather than following predetermined sequences regardless of what the body is signaling.
Classical repertoire: The focus is on foundational postures from traditional texts—standing poses for stability, seated poses for meditation preparation, twists for spinal health, inversions when appropriate, backbends and forward bends balanced according to individual need. Not Instagram-worthy arm balances or contortionist extremes, but the postures that have proven their value across centuries of transmission.
Minimal props, maximum awareness: The practice uses minimal equipment—mat, occasionally blocks or straps when necessary for accessibility. The emphasis is on developing internal awareness rather than relying on external support. Props can be useful tools, but dependence on them can prevent developing the sensitivity that makes practice self-sustaining.
For whom:
This approach to asana is for practitioners who understand—or are ready to understand—that physical practice is a means, not an end. For those willing to work with less ego investment in what poses look like and more attention to what they’re preparing the body to do. For people seeking sustainability over spectacle, depth over demonstration.
If you’re looking for intense physical challenge, there are better fitness programs. If you’re seeking impressive Instagram content, countless studios will oblige. But if you’re looking for asana practice that actually serves its intended purpose—preparing the body for deeper work—this is what that looks like.
The Honest Assessment
Asana practice won’t make you enlightened or permanently blissed out. It won’t fix life problems or heal trauma. Despite wellness marketing, touching your toes doesn’t equal touching your soul.
What asana will do—if practiced consistently—is create physical capacity for the practices that follow. Your ability to sit comfortably for 30-45 minutes without constant adjustment will improve. Chronic tension patterns will start releasing. Your body will stop screaming for attention during meditation, allowing concentration to actually develop.
You won’t become Instagram-flexible or remarkably strong. That’s not the goal. You’ll build sustainable capacity—strength and mobility balanced, maintained over decades rather than pushed to extremes that accumulate injury.
Progress happens gradually—months, not weeks. Six months in, you’ll sit through pranayama without your back screaming. A year in, impossible postures become workable. Two years in, you’ll recognize tension patterns as they form rather than after they’ve solidified.
The practice requires showing up consistently even when it’s boring, uncomfortable, or feels like nothing’s happening. Some days your body will be tight and uncooperative. That’s practice—meeting what is, not what you want it to be.