In a recent piece for Maclean’s, Colleen Derkatch explores the rise of biohacking as the latest business in men’s wellness, reshaping how masculinity and health are sold—and bought—in our culture.
On the surface, it’s a story about gadgets, supplements, and Silicon Valley eccentricity. But underneath, the story wonders: what happens when wellness is measured not by presence or ease, but by productivity and virility?
🔍 The Competitive Edge
Biohacking’s rise in the “manosphere” reveals how vulnerable we are to the pressure of proving ourselves. As tech tools and testosterone stacks fill the shelves, the pursuit of self-optimization starts to look less like self-care and more like a never-ending competition with others—and with ourselves.
This echoes the yogic concept of Satya, or truthfulness: seeing things as they are, not as marketers or influencers would like us to see them. When we chase an ever-receding “optimized” self, can we pause and honestly ask: what do we really need to be well?
🌀 Habit or Samskara?
The habits we form—whether it’s morning ice baths or meticulously tracking micronutrients—accumulate, becoming samskaras, or grooves in the mind. Are we making choices out of genuine care, or reflexively following cultural scripts about what health should look like?
Yogic self-study asks us to notice these patterns. When does a biohacking habit turn from a tool for well-being into an obligation, another thing we measure ourselves against?
💛 Contentment Over Optimization
The industry’s promise—do more, be more, optimize everything—stands in stark contrast to Santosha, or contentment: the radical practice of accepting ourselves as we are, without the need for constant improvement.
Could contentment be the ultimate “biohack”—the one thing that can’t be bought or sold? When the drive to optimize becomes just another source of stress, practice can be a retreat, a reminder that wellness isn’t always doing, but sometimes just being.
🤝 Non-Harm and the Collective Body
As men are drawn into wellness by appeals to strength, virility, and dominance, how do we practice Ahimsa, or non-harming? Not just towards others, but towards ourselves—especially when the pressure to “level up” becomes exhausting.
What if true wellness isn’t measured by statistics or spectacle, but by how gently we can inhabit our own bodies, and how honestly we can meet ourselves and each other where we are? Yoga poses that question, on and off the mat.
— MJH

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