Ashtanga is repetitive.
And that is precisely why I love it.
You don’t come to class wondering what sequence the teacher has invented today. There is no new playlist. No new choreography. No constant entertainment.
You return to the same practice.
Again.
And again.
At first, that repetition can feel almost boring.
Then it becomes interesting.
Because when the practice stops changing all the time, you begin to notice what does.
You.
Your breath.
Your body.
Your patience.
Your ambition.
The posture that felt easy yesterday and impossible today.
The one you desperately want.
The one you avoid.
The days you feel strong.
And the days when getting onto the mat already feels like enough.
Ashtanga gives us a structure.
But what happens inside that structure is never the same.
I don’t practice Ashtanga because I think it is the hardest yoga.
I don’t teach it because I believe everybody should do it.
And I certainly don’t believe that progressing through increasingly difficult postures makes anyone more advanced as a human being.
I practice it because repetition leaves fewer places to hide.
Eventually, the practice becomes less about what comes next.
And much more about what is here.