This reflection piece stems from the Women’s retreat in November 2025, empowering us to explore practices, challenge preconceived ideas, and playfully find our way(s). 

In yoga & meditation circles this word ‘practice’ is prevalent: we talk about starting and doing a practice, we may say things such as ‘I’ve neglected my practice’, ‘I had a good practice (or not)’, ‘How long have you been practicing?’ etc. Practice is distinct from theory, we put theory into practice. And practice foresees doing something again and again, a repeated action to get skilful. Along with the word comes a whole set of ideas and concepts about what practice is or isn’t. I think it’s important to question the concept, what does practice mean for us, how have we formed our ideas about it? There’s a risk that if we have specific ideas of what practice should look like, then it becomes a measuring stick, with many opportunities to fall short. This is especially true when the definition includes fixed criteria, and lands within a socio-cultural context that fosters an internal environment of never being good enough, perfectionism and a vigilant inner critic. It can feel like we’re always on the losing side of the practice paradigm.

With so much focus on practice it can be easy for it to become the goal rather than a means to reach a goal. In Zen they say this is like looking at the finger that points to the moon rather than the moon. If it becomes a goal, it will be our destination, and we will do our best to “succeed” or reach our idea of perfect practice – we serve the practice rather than the practice serving us. This is often seen in the pursuit of perfecting yogic physical postures, especially the more demanding ones that are often termed ‘advanced’ as if that indicates the level of progress on a path. Likewise, if we have taken up the idea that we should meditate for an hour a day, then this will be what matters. Do we practice breathing techniques in order to get good at breathing techniques, or for their benefits, or both? Are we missing the point when we put ‘practice’ as the goal?

The question we might ask, again and again, is: why am I practising what I am practising? What’s the point, what’s the intention, and what’s coming out of such practice? One translation of a line in the Yoga Sutra of Patanjali says ‘practice means choosing, applying the effort and doing those actions that bring a stable and tranquil state’. This definition doesn’t tell us what the practice will actually look like, rather it directs us to look at the impacts and results of whatever we choose to do as practice. Is what we’re doing leading to our intention? It also infers (with the “those actions”) that there are a number of different practices available and so the aspect of choosing what might be suitable, appropriate and skilful at any given time is fundamental. And then of course we will need to find the willingness (applying the effort) to do those actions, until our intention is firmly established. In the Buddhist Alagaddūpama Sutta, practice is likened to a raft that we build and which takes us across the floods, when we’ve reached the safe shore we can let go of the raft. When we learn to ride a bike, we will practice until we’ve got it – there’s wisdom in seeing that once practice has served its purpose we can let go of it.

There are also the stories about the Buddha giving different instructions to people with different temperaments. The strings of an instrument could be too tight or too loose needing different remedies. The practices and guidance will be different but the goal is the same. What practices are ‘right’ for us will depend on many factors and as such need to adapt and respond to changing circumstances. It’s from such understanding that the Buddha taught meditation in four primary postures (sitting, standing, reclining and walking). If practice is prescribed as only sitting then what will we do when we’re sick or on our death bed?

It’s common to hear people say things like: I can’t meditate because I can’t sit still in silence, or yoga isn’t for me because I’m not flexible. This points to ideas and definitions that again focus on the practice and form and how it should look (often from the outside). All due respect to those who acknowledge that their goal is to get good at the practice forms. However, if practice is a means to reach something else, what is our goal? The word ‘meditation’ is a translation of ‘Bhavana’, a term in the ancient Pali language that literally means cultivation or bringing into being. This invites us to clarify and prioritise what it is we wish to cultivate? Let’s say we wish to cultivate well-being, there could be a whole array of different ways to bring this about depending on conditions – and the practice could include both actions we can take and actions we can relinquish.

Ancient wisdom traditions and modern day neuroscience agree that we get good at what we practice. This is very much thanks to the plasticine nature of the brain, that is malleable, can learn relatively quickly, and is continually changing and adapting. This is both good and bad news depending on what we’re practicing. If we have a daily practice of putting ourselves down, we become experts at it, and it becomes the norm. If we have a daily physical yoga practice during which we continue to put ourselves down, what is being cultivated? Likewise, if we berate ourselves for not doing a practice, or push ourselves into a practice that could cause harm. If sickness means we cannot do our ‘usual’ practice, how can we get creative and find fresh ways to practice compassion and patience?

I have become more and more dubious of any prescribed practice regime. These tend to come from external sources of ‘authority’, fall into ‘the one size fits all’ category, and rarely allow for much subtlety. They can whiff of rigidity, authority and power-dynamics that date from a bygone era, and as such could be said to be violent. (I have written previously about reclaiming our inner authority). Not to throw the baby out with the bath water, it is still important to explore different practices and techniques (sometimes sticking with them for many years), and it is often essential to have teachers and guidance and support along the way. It’s helpful to have someone point out our blind spots, suggest we may want to walk a little more to the left or right to get back on track. We benefit from all those who have gone down similar paths, told their tales, mapped them out and sometimes dedicated their lives to holding the light up for others.

If it’s problematic when practice is the be all and end all, how about asking the question: what when I do it leads to my intention? The intention is primary and the ‘what’ has permission to change, to be alive, responsive, multiple, playful, creative, agreeable…..this is perhaps the art of practice. If I have my compass set to Peace then the ‘what I do’ could be any number of things and will depend on so many things, for example: in the immediate aftermath of my sister’s death I found most peace from being outside with trees and walking (sometimes fast); I often drop into deep peace during a lying down meditation; I notice how it feels when peace is absent; in any given situation I could ask what would be a non-violent response; I get inspired when bringing to mind great peace pioneers….and more….

As the beloved Sufi poet Rumi says “there are a thousand ways of kissing the ground”.