‍Yoga teaches that human beings are far more than a physical body. There are times when someone may feel physically fine but emotionally depleted, mentally overwhelmed but spiritually clear, or energized yet disconnected. Yogic philosophy has long recognized this complexity and offers a powerful framework for understanding it: the koshas.

The koshas are the layers or sheaths of the self. They help illuminate the many dimensions of human experience, from the physical body to the deepest experience of peace and awareness. In modern practice, this model can offer a compassionate and holistic way to understand wellness. In traditional yogic philosophy, it served as a profound contemplative map pointing toward the true Self.

At True Love Yoga, these teachings help students deepen not only their movement practice, but their understanding of themselves. They also offer rich context for the reflections explored on Deepen Your Yoga Practice.

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The chakra series continues with the third eye, the center of intuition, perception, and inner wisdom. While readers do not need to have listened to the earlier episodes to benefit from this teaching, it may be helpful to know that Lauren Leduc has also shared an introduction to the chakra system as a whole, along with episodes on the lower chakras leading up to this one.

The third eye is often associated with insight that goes beyond logic alone. It is the quiet knowing that arises when the mind becomes still enough to listen. It is the ability to perceive patterns, recognize truth, and connect intellect with intuition. In yoga, this center is less about fantasy or mystical performance and more about discernment, clarity, and awareness.

For more teachings like this, readers can explore classes, trainings, and community offerings at True Love Yoga and browse more episodes of Deepen Your Yoga Practice.

‍ The shoulders are some of the most mobile and demanding areas of the body, especially in yoga. From downward facing dog and plank to chaturanga, side plank, arm balances, binds, and even certain yin shapes, the shoulders are asked to do a lot. Because of that, shoulder discomfort is incredibly common.

Lauren Leduc of True Love Yoga encourages students to think about the shoulder not as one single joint, but as a complex system that depends on both mobility and stability. The shoulder wants freedom of movement, but it also demands control. A sustainable yoga practice depends on understanding both.

This post explores what the shoulder actually is, how it is designed to move, common pain patterns, and practical ways to build healthier, stronger, more functional shoulders on and off the mat.

If this topic interests you, readers can also explore more teachings through Deepen Your Yoga Practice.

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Every few years—lately, it feels like every few days—another spiritual teacher, wellness leader, or thought figure becomes entangled in something troubling. Allegations. Investigations. Misconduct. Abuse of power.

When that happens, it can feel disorienting—especially if that person’s work once helped you through a meaningful or vulnerable season of life.

This conversation is not about amplifying headlines. It is about something bigger and more enduring: the structure of spiritual leadership itself.

Why are we so drawn to charismatic teachers?

Where did the guru–student model originate?

Why does spiritual authority feel so regulating to our nervous systems?

And how can we practice yoga in a way that is wise, autonomous, community-centered, and free from unhealthy hierarchy?

Yoga has always been about liberation from suffering. Any structure—even a spiritual one—that limits discernment, discourages questioning, or places someone beyond accountability deserves thoughtful examination.

It is possible to cultivate devotion without dependence.

It is possible to build spiritual community without sliding into dogma or cultish dynamics.

It is possible to stay human—even when our heroes fall.

Yoga is often described as a practice of awareness—but awareness isn’t just mental. It’s sensory. It’s embodied.

Have you ever been in a pose and realized you had no idea where your foot was?

Or felt “off” in your body without knowing why?

Or noticed how breath awareness completely changes your practice?

These experiences point to two essential senses that shape yoga from the inside out: interoception and proprioception.

Very simply:

• Interoception is sensing what is happening inside your body.

• Proprioception is sensing where your body is in space.

Together, they transform yoga from movement into embodiment.

Why do we repeat patterns we know aren’t serving us?

Why do we doom scroll even when it increases anxiety?

Why do we cling to identities that no longer fit?

Why do we fear change—even when we know it’s necessary?

More than 1,500 years ago, Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras offered a framework for answering these questions. The answer lies in what are called the kleshas—the mental afflictions or root causes of suffering.

This teaching appears in Book Two of the Yoga Sutras (Sutras II.3–9), before the eight limbs of yoga are introduced. Patanjali first names the obstacles. Only then does he describe the path to liberation.

The word klesha means “affliction” or “mental poison.” They are not sins. They are not moral failures. They are human tendencies—patterns of misperception that create suffering (dukkha).

Understanding them isn’t about self-judgment. It’s about clarity and compassion.

The throat chakra—Vishuddha—is the center of expression, resonance, and refinement. It is the bridge between the heart and the mind, the filter between inner truth and outer speech. It is where what we feel and what we think becomes what we say.

When this energy center is balanced, communication is not louder—it is clearer, more grounded, and aligned.

This post explores the throat chakra through both traditional and modern lenses, offering practical ways to strengthen expression on and off the mat.

Spring has a particular kind of medicine. More light. More movement. More momentum. For many people, it feels like the real new year—an invitation to reset, refresh, and begin again.

In yoga and Ayurveda, spring is often understood as a season where energy wants to circulate. In Ayurveda, it’s a kapha time of year—earth + water—where heaviness, dampness, and stagnation can build up if we don’t intentionally create warmth and movement. In yoga philosophy, spring can be felt as renewed prana flow—a chance to clear what feels stuck so that life force can move more freely.

This episode isn’t about “cleansing your aura with sage and calling it a day.” It’s about clearing what’s stagnant emotionally, physically, mentally, and energetically—in a way that is philosophically grounded, nervous-system informed, practical, and free from magical thinking.

“Engage your core” is one of the most common cues in yoga—and also one of the most misunderstood. For some people, it brings up gripping the abdominals, holding the breath, or feeling strain in the low back. For others, especially those with pelvic floor considerations, it can create confusion or even anxiety.

In reality, core engagement in yoga is not one thing. It is a spectrum of strategies that shift depending on posture, breath, load, intention, and individual history. When approached skillfully, core work supports safety, longevity, and ease. When misunderstood, it can lead to rigidity, breath holding, or discomfort.

This post explores what the core actually is, how it functions in yoga, and how to engage it intelligently rather than forcefully.

Yoga is often spoken about as if it were a single, ancient, unchanging practice—something passed down intact for thousands of years. These stories are usually shared with good intentions, and most of us learned them through modern studios, trainings, books, and marketing. If any of these ideas sound familiar, it doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It simply means you’ve been participating in the modern yoga conversation.

Understanding yoga history more accurately matters—not to “debunk” yoga, but to practice with greater humility, discernment, and depth. When we know where yoga actually came from and how it evolved, we can relate to the practice with more honesty and respect.

Below are five common misconceptions about yoga history, along with a more nuanced and grounded understanding of each.

The heart chakra—Anahata—is the fourth chakra in the yogic system and often described as the bridge between the lower and upper energy centers. It is where our physical, earthly experiences meet our spiritual, intuitive selves. More than romance or positivity, the heart chakra represents integration: love with discernment, compassion with boundaries, and openness without self-abandonment.

Anahata invites a mature, resilient form of love—one that can hold joy and grief, connection and independence, softness and strength.

Stretching is often treated as synonymous with yoga—but while stretching is certainly part of asana practice, it’s far from the whole picture. There’s also a lot of confusion around what stretching actually does, how it works in the body, and what its real benefits are.

This post explores the science of stretching, how it interacts with the nervous system, and how yoga offers a far more intelligent and sustainable approach than simply “getting more flexible.”

The phrase “we store trauma in the hips” gets repeated often in yoga spaces—especially right before pigeon pose or other deep “hip openers.” For many students, it resonates. Emotions can rise unexpectedly: tears, memories, a wave of sensation that feels bigger than “just a stretch.”

But as thoughtful practitioners—and especially as yoga teachers—there’s a responsibility to pause and ask:

Is this literal or metaphorical? What does science actually say? And how does yoga philosophy understand the relationship between body, emotion, and memory?

This post is an exploration, not a definitive verdict—offered with humility, honesty, and care.

As a new year unfolds, many people feel an inner pull to reflect on purpose—on what truly matters and how they want to move through the world. In yoga philosophy, this inquiry is known as Dharma: the path of truth, alignment, and meaningful action. Rather than a rigid destiny or fixed role, Dharma is a living, evolving relationship with one’s inner wisdom.

This teaching invites practitioners to listen deeply, act courageously, and trust the quiet knowing that guides each step forward.

As the chakra journey continues, attention moves upward from grounding and flow into the solar plexus chakra, known in Sanskrit as Manipura. This energy center is the seat of personal power, clarity, and purposeful action. It is where intention becomes movement and inner knowing transforms into embodied confidence.

The beginning of a new year often arrives with pressure—to fix, overhaul, and transform life overnight. Yoga offers a different invitation. Rather than resolutions rooted in self-improvement or perceived lack, yogic philosophy invites practitioners to begin again through Sankalpa: an intention that arises from wholeness, wisdom, and devotion.

This approach honors the natural rhythms of growth and aligns intention not with ego, but with the deeper self.

As the year draws to a close, the rhythm of winter invites us to pause, reflect, and soften. The end of one cycle and the beginning of another is a sacred threshold—an opportunity to let go of what no longer fits and to make space for what’s yet to come.

This practice of reflection is not merely an act of nostalgia—it’s a form of yoga. Through Svadhyaya (self-study) and Ishvara Pranidhana (surrender), we create time to look inward, integrate our experiences, and release what we’ve outgrown. When paired with Abhyasa (practice) and Vairagya (non-attachment), this ritual becomes an alchemy of clarity, compassion, and renewal.

So today, I invite you into a year-end yoga ritual—a ceremony of letting go and welcoming the light ahead.

As the light fades and the days grow shorter, the Winter Solstice offers us a sacred pause—a threshold between darkness and light, stillness and renewal. Across centuries and cultures, this turning point has been celebrated as a moment of reverence, reflection, and hope. In yoga and Ayurveda, the solstice mirrors the deep intelligence of nature, reminding us to rest, replenish, and trust in the gradual return of the sun.

As the seasons turn toward winter, nature calls us to slow down. In yoga, this shift toward quiet and reflection is beautifully embodied in Yin Yoga—a practice of stillness, surrender, and deep listening. While Vinyasa, Hatha, and power practices build heat and strength (the yang side of yoga), Yin invites us into the yin: cooling, introspective, and deeply nourishing.

n yoga and in life, we are constantly invited to dance between two forces—Abhyasa (discipline, practice, effort) and Vairagya (surrender, letting go, acceptance). These complementary teachings, rooted in Yoga Sutra 1.12, remind us that “the fluctuations of the mind are stilled through practice and non-attachment.”

Finding harmony between these two energies can be one of life’s greatest lessons—and one of yoga’s most powerful gifts.