The Shala Daily

I remember the first time I realized a Sanskrit pose name could land awkwardly in English. I was teaching, moving quickly, trying to keep the room flowing—and then I said the “common” translation out loud and felt the air change. Not because anyone was being difficult. Because words carry history. And sometimes that history shows up in a yoga class whether we meant it to or not.

This is what I appreciate about yoga at its best: it’s not just stretching. It’s attention. It’s relationship. It’s an ongoing practice of noticing where we’re unconsciously repeating something—and choosing to respond with more awareness.

A Name Isn’t Just a Label

Take Pāśāsana. You’ve probably heard it called “Noose Pose.” That translation is everywhere. But it can feel loaded, depending on your cultural context—and, as it turns out, it’s not even the most accurate rendering of the Sanskrit.

In Sanskrit, pāśa can mean a snare, a bond, a tether—something that binds or constricts. In yogic philosophy, that points less to a weapon and more to an inner condition: the way craving, fear, habits, or identity can tighten around us. And āsana, of course, is a seat or posture—an embodied place where we meet the moment.

So the posture isn’t necessarily about invoking an image that harms; it can be an invitation to recognize what binds us and explore whether we can soften inside it.

Ancient Words, Modern Ears

Here’s the tension: yoga comes from ancient roots, but it lives in modern bodies and modern communities. When we translate, we’re not just converting vocabulary—we’re making choices about what people will hear, feel, and carry home.

And this is where the practice becomes very real. If you learn a translation that feels problematic, you don’t have to force yourself to “get over it” in the name of tradition. And you also don’t have to throw the tradition away. You can do the most yogic thing possible: pause, inquire, and choose a wiser next step.

A Simple Practice for Teachers (and All of Us)

Next time you encounter a pose name that feels off, try this three-part inquiry:

1) Investigate the root. What does the Sanskrit actually suggest? What are the layers of meaning?

2) Consider the impact. How might this word land for someone with a different history than yours?

3) Choose language that serves practice. You can use the Sanskrit name, offer a more thoughtful translation (“Binding Pose,” “Tether Pose,” “Snare Pose”), or name the shape (“twisting squat bind”). The goal isn’t to be perfect—it’s to be conscious.

For me, this is yoga off the mat: ahiṃsā in speech, satya in learning, and svādhyāya in the willingness to examine what we’ve inherited.

If the posture is asking us to twist, maybe the language can, too—away from harm, toward clarity.

— MJH