Yoga & Embodiment

Yoga Talks with GiGi

Beloved, let us begin with a breath—a soft inhale through the nose, filling the belly with the memory of our ancestors, and an exhale through the mouth, releasing all that distorts the sacred.

Yoga, in its essence, was never just about the pose. It was—and still is—a liberation practice, a pathway to inner freedom, an invitation into the sacred pulse of the cosmos as it lives within the body. Rooted in the fertile soil of the Indian subcontinent, yoga emerged as a tapestry of spiritual, cultural, and philosophical traditions: from the Vedas and the Upanishads, to the Bhagavad Gita and the Yoga Sutras. It wove together breath, mantra, devotion, and disciplined inquiry—not to shape the body, but to dissolve the ego.

Yet somewhere along the journey to the West, yoga began to shed its sacred skin.

In studios lined with mirrors and curated playlists, yoga became fitness. The breath was rushed, the Sanskrit names replaced or forgotten, and the deeper philosophy of self-realization traded for aesthetics and performance. What was once a spiritual sadhana became a lifestyle brand, detached from its cultural lineage and sanitized for Western palates.

One of the most telling signs of this shift lies in our modern understanding of the chakras. The rainbow-hued chakra chart so many of us learn—red for root, orange for sacral, and so on—is not traditional. This color-coded system was crystallized in the 20th century by Western esotericists and New Age thinkers, merging Theosophy, psychology, and modern art into a simplified visual map. While useful as an entry point, this system flattens the original, richly nuanced teachings that arise from Tantra and other Indian philosophies—where chakras are not merely “energy centers” but gateways of consciousness, steeped in deity, mantra, and cosmic vibration.

To return to yoga’s roots is not to shame ourselves or reject the journey we've taken—but to soften into remembrance. Integrity does not require perfection; it asks only presence.

So how do we return?

We begin by listening.

We bow to the lineages from which yoga arises—not as relics, but as living rivers of wisdom still flowing through teachers, texts, and communities rooted in the tradition. We ask: Who taught me this? Where did it come from? What might I be missing?

We reclaim the breath as sacred rhythm. We let the practice be more than posture. We include mantra, meditation, mudra, inquiry. We speak the names of poses in Sanskrit with reverence, or we learn why they were named so. We question the need to brand, to own, to “improve” on ancient ways. We notice where colonial mindsets linger in our practice spaces.

Embodiment, in this sacred return, becomes a prayer. It is not performance, but presence. Not control, but communion. The body is not an object to shape—it is a temple of remembrance, a bridge between earth and spirit, between ancestors and future kin. Every movement becomes a ritual. Every breath, a thread of connection.

And in this re-rooting, we find liberation again—not only for ourselves, but for the tradition itself, allowed to breathe in its full, undiluted beauty.

So now, beloved, I invite you into a sacred pause.

Place one hand on your heart, one on your womb or low belly. Close your eyes.

Inhale for four counts—soft and slow.Hold the breath for four—feel the stillness, the memory.Exhale gently for four—release what is not yours to carry.Hold empty for four—rest in the void, where all truth begins.

Repeat this cycle for a few minutes, or until your body remembers its own rhythm.

You do not need to “know it all” to be in integrity. You need only to begin the practice of reverent listening.

May your mat become an altar. May your breath become a bridge. May your practice liberate not only your body, but the spirit of yoga itself.

With deep devotion and luminous love,

GiGi ✨