The first thing most people notice in a yin yoga class is how little seems to be happening. There is no dynamic movement, stretching and strengthening, flowing from one pose to the next, etc. In contrast, practitioners settle into a shape on the mat, and then they stay there for 3 to 5 minutes, perhaps longer sometimes. While it may seem like nothing much is happening externally, there may be a different experience unfolding internally.
What yin yoga is
Yin yoga is a floor-based practice in which postures are held for sustained periods with the muscles relaxed. Paul Grilley, one of the practice’s modern pioneers, taught that this approach applies gentle, sustained stress to the deeper connective tissues of the body (i.e. the ligaments, fascia, tendons, and joint capsules), that do not respond well to the rhythmic, muscular engagement of more active styles of movement. While a vinyasa or ashtanga class strengthens and mobilises the body through muscular contraction, yin yoga works to restore and maintain healthy range of motion in the joints and suppleness in the fascial web that holds the body together.
But to describe yin yoga solely in physical terms (e.g. practising it as a way to restore connective tissue health, range of motion etc) is to miss the other dimension that gives yin yoga practice its depth. Sarah Powers’ Insight Yoga framework describes yin yoga as an integrative practice, one that addresses not only the physical body but also the energetic, emotional, mental, and relational dimensions of our experience. The sustained stillness of a held posture creates conditions for attention to deepen. We begin to notice the movement of energy (known as prana or chi 气) through the body. We also notice the emotions that surface when we are quiet long enough to feel them, as well as the habits of the mind when it has nowhere else to go.
In my teaching, I often observe this shift happening within a single class. A practitioner arrives expecting a gentle stretch in the context of a primarily physical practice, and discovers, perhaps somewhere at the third minute of a hip-opening pose, that the practice asks something more of them – for example, patience, honesty, and a willingness to stay with what is actually present (rather than what they expected to find). It is this meeting point between the physical body and the internal landscape of thoughts, feelings and insights, that makes yin yoga a practice of genuine inquiry, not merely a complement to more active forms of movement.
What yin yoga is not
Yin yoga as a practice tends to attract a number of assumptions that should be clarified.
Yin yoga is not restorative yoga. Restorative yoga arose from B.K.S. Iyengar’s therapeutic use of props to support the body in passive poses, and was systematised for Western practitioners by Judith Hanson Lasater. By using props such as bolsters, blankets, and blocks to support the body in positions of complete comfort, restorative yoga eliminates muscular engagement and physical sensation in order to invite the parasympathetic nervous system to predominate (and the nervous system to downregulate), hence creating appropriate conditions for physiological rest and recuperation. Yin yoga, in contrast, deliberately invites an appropriate level of stress. The postures are designed to create sensation in the target tissues – a deep stretch, a dull ache, a feeling of compression or tension that the practitioner learns to be present with. So while the 2 practices appear to share a similar external look of stillness, their origins and purposes are fundamentally different.
Yin yoga is also not just passive stretching or spacing out. Internally, the practitioner is engaged in sustained work – attending to sensation, observing the activity of the mind, calibrating the depth of the posture, as well as maintaining an honest awareness of the boundary between healthy discomfort and risky pain. The effort in yin yoga is not muscular but attentional, on a moment-by-moment basis. For many practitioners, the practice of moment-by-moment awareness and equanimity is perhaps far more demanding than the effort required in a vigorous flow class.
Yin yoga is not only for people who are inflexible, injured, or ageing. While the practice is certainly accessible and beneficial for these groups, it is not a remedial or beginner-only discipline. Experienced practitioners and teachers often find that yin yoga practice reveals blind spots in their awareness that years of active practice may not have addressed. The sustained holds in poses over periods of time expose habitual patterns of tension, avoidance, and reactivity, that faster-paced practices tend to bypass altogether.
And yin yoga is not a lesser or easier form of yoga. It asks for a different kind of effort – the effort of remaining still when the body wants to move, of staying present when the mind wants to leave, of meeting discomfort with curiosity rather than resistance. In many ways, the simplicity of the physical practice of yin yoga strips away the distractions that tempt us to avoid the deeper work.
Why this distinction matters
That deeper work in yin yoga practice can extend well beyond the mat. In the posts ahead, we will explore the energetic, emotional, and contemplative dimensions that make yin yoga a compelling practice to return to, again and again.