Praxis: Where Study Meets Sweat (and Teaches You Back)
Let’s be real—most of us came to Ashtanga Yoga for the sweat, not the Sanskrit. We rolled out our mats, followed the count, maybe tried not to breathe like a punctured accordion, and slowly realized… there’s more going on here than hamstring length. That “more” is what philosophers call praxis: the magical (and often messy) dance between what we learn and how we live.
So what is praxis, anyway? In ancient Greek philosophy, praxis meant the application of knowledge to right action. It’s not theory (theoria), and it’s not just doing for doing’s sake (poiesis). Praxis is what happens when wisdom gets dirt under its fingernails. It’s lived understanding—where insight and embodiment start talking to each other.
When we bring this to Ashtanga Yoga, we see that the mat is only the first laboratory. The breath, the bandhas, the drishti—these are our experimental tools. The data? Every wobble, frustration, or “why am I doing this again?” moment. We study, we practice, we adjust. Over time, our practice becomes a self-correcting system—a feedback loop of growth. That’s praxis in motion.
Gregor Maehle reminds us that “there can be no separation of practice and philosophy.” Reading the Yoga Sutra tells us what yoga is; asana shows us how it feels. But it’s praxis that asks: “How does it change the way I live?” When you realize that ahimsa isn’t just not yelling at your barista but also not berating your own tight shoulders in Kapotasana—congratulations, you’ve entered the realm of praxis.
Systems Thinking meets the Yoga Mat
Here’s where Donella Meadows would give us a high-five. In systems thinking, change happens through feedback loops. You act, observe results, learn, and adjust. Sound familiar? Each practice session is a loop:
- Input: Breath, movement, and attention.
- Process: Sensations, resistance, awareness.
- Output: Insight, balance, humility (and maybe less creaky joints).
- Feedback: You take what you’ve learned and feed it back into tomorrow’s practice—and your life.
When you stop fighting your hamstrings and start listening to what they’re saying, that’s praxis. When your breath in Navasana teaches you patience with your teenager, that’s praxis. When your teaching voice echoes your own inner teacher—calm, kind, precise—that’s praxis doing her graceful little jig.
Try this: After your next practice, don’t rush to the shower. Sit for two minutes and ask: “What did my system learn today?” Maybe your breath taught you something about your pace at work. Maybe your balance told you how little you ground yourself when life tilts. That’s the point where Ashtanga stops being an exercise routine and starts being an ecosystem—a living, breathing, learning loop. That’s praxis.
Remember: philosophy without practice is daydreaming, and practice without philosophy is blind effort. Praxis is the soil from which emergence grows