Is Ashtanga Yoga Dead?

Is Ashtanga Yoga Dead? A Response to Recent Social Media Discourse from Within the Practice

Over the past six months while I was in Mysore, South India, and now that I’m back in the USA, I’ve seen a wave of dramatic statements from yoga teachers and practitioners on social media declaring the end of Ashtanga Yoga. There have been announcements about quitting the method, critiques for rejecting the community, claims about certain postures being erroneous, and ongoing arguments against the tradition as rigid, harmful, and cult-like.

Without getting involved in social media debates, I’ve been reflecting on them. Some of the discourse has veered into absolutism, oversimplification, and opportunism masked as awakening.

This discourse is not new but it seems it’s gained a new momentum in the wake of the passing of our beloved teacher R. Sharath Jois (1971-2024), and in a time when many people are understandably grieving and re-evaluating systems of practice and power.

I support the impulse to question, to distance, to grieve, and to speak out. I also support the need to protect the body and mental health and to name harm where it has occurred. But I also see some critiques oversimplify, misrepresent, and distort what Ashtanga Yoga truly is and what it can be when approached with humility, integrity, and inner inquiry.

While it’s important to honor each person’s experience, it’s also crucial to clarify what Ashtanga Yoga really means because what many call “Ashtanga” is often just a small piece of a much larger system.

This post is not a defense of dogma nor hierarchy. It is not meant to silence critique.

It is an attempt to offer nuance, context, and a broader understanding of a tradition that is more than any series of postures. It’s a response from someone who has spent over a dozen years inside the Mysore Ashtanga Vinyasa practice studying directly with R. Sharath Jois and Saraswathi Jois, who has received authorization to teach, and who has questioned, wrestled, adapted, honored, and returned to the practice again and again.

These critiques and responses are not exhaustive and they are not final truths. They are invitations to think more expansively about lineage, embodiment, cultural context, and the deeper aims of yoga.

Why it matters:

When we question a spiritual lineage, we want to do so respectfully from a place of curiosity and cultural literacy — not from extreme, if understandable, emotional reaction and egoic projection. If we’re going to carry a practice forward, let’s seek greater clarity about what we’re accepting and rejecting. And if we’re going to question the systems we’re a part of, we also need to question our own motivations, fears, and assumptions.

critiques & RESPONSES

1. “Ashtanga Yoga is dead.”

A lineage doesn’t die with a person nor a posture nor even a particularly rough phase of practice.

People die but the practice of a lineage is a living transmission and its essence carries on in those who continue to practice with loving presence.

If you’re declaring “Ashtanga is dead” or dismissing a whole yoga tradition because of postural disagreements and teacher disappointments, maybe what you were practicing was not actually Ashtanga Yoga to begin with.

Ashtanga entails a whole systematic approach to yoga that encompasses 8 limbs: Yama (Restraints), Niyama (Observances), Asana (Postures), Pranayama (Vital Energy Expansion), Pratyahara (Sense Withdrawal), Dharana (Concentration), Dhyana (Contemplation), Samadhi (Meditation or Integration).

Let’s not confuse the limitations of a teacher, a posture, a school, etc with the essence of a lineage itself.

2. “Ashtanga Yoga causes injury.”

It could, but so could any physical practice done without discernment and respect for individual capacity. Injuries happen in running, cycling, swimming, walking, and even sitting. I personally hurt my body more than ever when I worked a remote desk job for two years by sitting long hours in a chair at a computer. The Ashtanga Vinyasa itself isn’t the problem (in fact, it can even be the solution) — but there could be a problem in the way that some students and teachers approach and handle the practice with blinding ego and aggression.

3. “It's too rigid and dogmatic.”

What some may experience as rigidity, others experience as liberating structure. Like Indian classical music or poetic meters, the rules of the form can reveal great freedom and progressive development when approached with presence and humility.

Not all are called to this kind of discipline and that’s okay.

4. “The guru system enables abuse.”

It’s true that power, when unchecked, can become oppressive — and yoga communities are not exempt. We must acknowledge the very real harms that can and have happened within spiritual traditions. To name and address these harms is not a betrayal of lineage — it is part of its evolution.

That said, the guru-shishya parampara, the traditional teacher-student relationship, is not inherently about power and domination. At its best, it is a sacred bond of care, transmission, and accountability. The teacher is not a flawless authority figure, but a committed guide entrusted with stewarding the practice and helping the student recognize their own inner teacher.

The danger in the system lies in the unexamined allegiance to a legacy that can become polluted without real conversation or reflection. The antidote isn’t to discard all forms of lineage or mentorship. Instead, it’s to clarify these relationships through more conscious boundaries, mutual respect, and open dialogue.

5. “Not appropriate for women's bodies.”

There are valid questions about how intense physical discipline intersects with female physiology, especially regarding menstruation, fertility, and pregnancy.

The key is sensitivity, education, and agency. When approached aggressively, any practice can feel harsh or unyielding. But when approached with inner listening and intelligent adaptation, many women practitioners (myself included) have found the practice (which includes an insistence on cyclical rest) to be empowering — to help reclaim a sense of embodied strength, rhythm, trust, and sovereignty.

Some postures need modification or need to be relinquished for pregnancy. But this doesn’t mean the practice itself is inherently harmful or unsuitable for women. In fact, many dedicated Ashtanga women have continued practicing through pregnancy and have gone on to have healthy, natural births in which their breath work, practice rhythm, and internal focus were helpful supports.

We can acknowledge multiple truths: that misunderstanding of postures or over-identification with physical achievement can cause harm and that this practice, rooted in breath and bandha, has helped countless women feel more connected to their cycles, their strength, and their inner wisdom.

6. “Ashtanga is just a postural series.”

The Mysore tradition of Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga was named intentionally to tether the physical practice to the deeper ethical, meditative, and spiritual path of the 8 limbs of Ashtanga Yoga outlined in the Patanjali Yoga Sutras.

Let’s remember to practice and seek to honor the full significance of its name.

7. “It encourages postural obsession.”

Obsessive behavior isn’t unique to Ashtanga Yoga. Any method can become a mirror of one’s neurosis or ego. The practice, and people’s intense connection with it, reveals what’s already there — it doesn’t create it.

Asana is only 1 of the 8 limbs of Ashtanga Yoga. If there is an obsession with the postural practice of the Ashtanga Vinyasa system, it probably means the other 7 limbs are not yet fully integrated into the practice.

8. “Repeating the same postures regularly is harmful.”

This critique often arises from a modern fitness mindset that focuses on physical interests and novel wellness trends, which can be useful in certain contexts. But Ashtanga Yoga is not a cross-training program; it is a sadhana — a committed, spiritual practice that uses repetition not as punishment, but as a path of refinement and inner listening to become more familiar with the mind.

In the sophisticated traditions of the Indian classical arts — whether music, dance, or even Vedic recitation — repetition is the method by which one becomes intimate with subtlety. A musician plays the same raga thousands of times not to stagnate, but to discover deeper emotional texture and resonance. A dancer repeats steps to transcend technique and embody rasa — the soul of expression. Likewise, in Ashtanga, repetition is the method through which presence deepens and internal awareness awakens.

Any tool can be used for help or harm. Any movement done aggressively or mindlessly can be dangerous. But when approached with intelligent pacing, compassionate self-study, and adaptation as needed, the repetition of sequences helps practitioners build a stable inner and outer framework — a moving meditation. It fosters trust in the body’s capacity and teaches how to be with change across the cycles of life.

Instead of constantly seeking what's new, Ashtanga invites us to return — again and again — to what’s already here. And in that return, something deeper opens.

9. “It glorifies extreme postures.”

The true depth of the Ashtanga Vinyasa is not found in advanced asanas, but in advanced presence. The posture is not the goal. The posture is just the container. A deep Primary Series done with awareness and steady breathing is far more advanced than a flashy Third Series seeking attention on social media.

10. “It’s outdated or culturally appropriated.”

Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga was born from a specific cultural, historical, and philosophical matrix in South India — drawing from ancient texts, Indian martial arts and movement traditions, devotional Bhakti streams, and the lived brilliance of Krishnamacharya and K. Pattabhi Jois. To call it “outdated” is to overlook its depth. And to reduce it to a commodified Westernized flow class is not the fault of the system itself.

Cultural misappropriation happens when sacred knowledge is taken without context, respect, or a commitment to honoring where it comes from. Unfortunately, parts of the global yoga industry keep doing just that — stripping yoga of its spiritual roots or using Sanskrit as aesthetic window-dressing only.

But Ashtanga, when practiced with cultural reverence, historical literacy, and relational accountability, offers so much more than a series postures. It offers a living link — a conversation across time — between the practitioner and the stream of wisdom from which it flows. It continues to evolve, not by discarding its roots, but by deepening its understanding of them.

The responsibility lies with each practitioner and teacher: Are we engaging in genuine relationship with the culture that birthed this practice? Are we acknowledging our positionality and giving back where we can? Are we learning — not just the external forms — but the internal songs, stories, philosophies, and values that shaped this tradition?

Misappropriation is not inevitable. It can be transformed into stewardship through study, humility, and care. If we want yoga to stay alive — not just trendy — we must practice it as a living bridge to nirvana, not a borrowed costume to wear in the samsaric social media soap opera.

11. “I’ve outgrown the practice.”

There are seasons to every path. Sometimes what we outgrow is our relationship to the practice, not necessarily the practice itself.

Ashtanga is more than its sequences and our relationship with its larger purpose can evolve. Even so, if outgrowing something is a matter of burning bridges, “quitting” Ashtanga doesn’t have to mean discrediting it for others.

12. “Ashtanga is a cult.”

The word cult carries a heavy charge in contemporary discourse — evoking images of manipulation, blind obedience, and psychological control. But the roots of the word tell a more complex story.

“Cult” comes from the Latin cultus, meaning care, cultivation, and worship — the same root found in “culture” and “cultivate.” In this older sense, a cultus referred to the way people expressed reverence for the sacred: tending to shrines, honoring ancestors, or embodying devotion through daily practice. So at its root, a cult is simply a form of intentional, ritual care — something that can nourish the human spirit, or, when distorted, exploit it.

This means that almost any community with shared values, language, rituals, and hierarchy has the potential to function like a cult, including religious congregations, wellness circles, activist groups, or even online fandoms. The issue is not the presence of structure, discipline, or devotion. The deeper question is: How is power being held, and how is each person engaging with it?

In Ashtanga, there is structure, lineage, and deep reverence for teachers. But the aim is not subservience — it’s to support a transmission that’s meant to be internalized and eventually self-directed. If students become overly dependent, or if teachers misuse authority, those are real concerns to be addressed with discernment. However, that’s not unique to Ashtanga and it doesn’t mean the entire method is flawed.

Calling Ashtanga a “cult” too casually can be a way of dismissing the depth of commitment, devotion, and community care that many practitioners find meaningful. It may also reflect discomfort with intensity, traditional models of learning, or even the discipline the practice asks of us.

The more fruitful question might be: Am I participating with awareness, curiosity, and personal responsibility — or with fear, projection, and blind allegiance? Because ultimately, how we engage with any tradition determines whether it becomes liberating or limiting.

13.  “Ashtanga is elitist and only for the privileged who can afford it.”

Traveling to Mysore, India, or attending global workshops, intensives, and retreats with senior Ashtanga teachers requires significant financial resources, time flexibility, and access to travel. These opportunities are not available to everyone, and that disparity deserves honest acknowledgment.

But while the modern culture surrounding Ashtanga may reflect certain class dynamics, the roots of the practice are anything but elitist. The original spirit of Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga was grounded in devotional daily life. Its traditional form was not developed just for the wealthy, but for those willing to commit themselves fully.

The elitism that critics observe today is a byproduct of global yoga commodification which is not the fault of the method itself. Ashtanga demands far more than money: it asks for patience, humility, consistency, and surrender.

That said, those of us who do have access to learning Ashtanga Yoga, whether through money and/or mobility, carry a responsibility. A real yogi doesn’t use privilege to exclude or self-congratulate or claim some kind of superiority. Instead, we’re called to steward what we’ve been given. It’s challenging just to support ourselves, but we need to keep aiming to support others too, especially local students and fellow teachers, and to teach in ways that honor the roots of our practice while widening the reach.

Injustice grows when privilege remains unconscious. But privilege transformed into generosity, awareness, and service is yoga in action.

14. “Ashtanga is a pyramid scheme.”

This criticism carries a funny and cynical view of the teacher authorization process in the Ashtanga lineage — particularly the former requirement to study with a senior or authorized teachers before they could be accepted to study with Sharath Jois in Mysore, and then needing his blessing to teach. To some, this resembles a multi-tiered gatekeeping system, and when seen through the lens of modern Western capitalism, it can be mischaracterized as a “pyramid scheme.”

But this interpretation flattens the cultural and spiritual significance of the traditional Indian model of learning.

In Indian knowledge systems — whether in music, Ayurveda, classical dance, or yoga — it is common for students to train closely with a teacher (guru) for many years before being invited to share or teach. This isn’t about exclusivity; it’s about protecting the depth and sacredness of the knowledge being passed on. Authorization is not meant to be a marketing badge nor a status symbol — it's meant to reflect readiness, humility, and an embodied understanding earned through long-term relationship and practice.

Power can be misused in any system, and the Ashtanga world is not immune to that. But dismissing the entire parampara model (lineage transmission) as a financial scam erases its cultural context and reduces an ancient system of apprenticeship to a capitalist caricature. It also wrongly suggests that Western teacher training programs — often expensive, short-term, and superficial certification-based — are somehow more ethical or accessible.

The question we might ask instead is: What does it mean to be entrusted with a tradition? And what structures help support integrity, depth, and respect — rather than speed, branding, or ego?

Yoga, at its root, is not a commodity. It is a sadhana — a sacred discipline — and traditions like Ashtanga invite us to enter it not just as consumers but as caretakers.

15. “Ashtanga, like all Yoga, is satanic or in service of the devil.” 

This view is rooted in fear-based Christian fundamentalism, not in the practice or philosophy of yoga itself.  Yoga teaches devotion to the divine (Ishvara) in whichever form the practitioner embraces. Patanjali, the ancient sage who systematized yoga philosophy, is depicted as part-serpent. In many spiritual traditions around the world, especially India, the serpent symbolizes wisdom, healing, protection, and divine awakening. Christian culture, on the other hand, associates the serpent with evil. To label yoga “satanic” is to project one religion’s symbols onto another’s sacred vision without understanding their origins or meaning. True discernment requires cultural humility.

Yoga is a spiritual art and science for self-realization that can complement any faith.

Going forward:

If this post resonates with you, please share it with others. Use it to spark respectful dialogue in your classes, satsangs, or community. If you feel moved, add your own voice to deepen the conversation with clarity and care. And let me know what I’m overlooking.

I'll be sharing some of these reflections on Instagram at @aquamarineyoga. You’re welcome to follow along, comment, share, or reach out if you’d like to continue the conversation.

Ashtanga Yoga is not a fixed thing; it is a living thread. How we hold it — with humility, intelligence, and heart — determines its future. It is not meant to reinforce certainty. It is meant to refine our capacity for showing up with a discerning presence.

Join me in practice, in person or online.

With breath,
Sandi

Note: this post was written in dialogue with ChatGPT (AI).