(Artist: Image copyright Leslie Sabella/True Spirit Art 2017)

I’ll admit it, I’m not one of those yoga teachers who uses a lot of Sanskrit names and terminology with my students. And yes I do suffer a bit of guilt about this. We are all taught the Sanskrit names for poses as part of our teacher training and we learn them through practice and repetition. In my training years I used to write down 10 Sanskrit words (poses) per day and try to learn them by heart. It worked…. for a while. And of course I am still a student of yoga so when I attend classes where my teachers use the Sanskrit names for poses then I am rarely left scratching my head as to what they want me to do, so they must still be in there somewhere, along with the endless shopping lists, daily tasks and names of the cast of Breaking Bad. Yes most of us can recall Trikonasana (triangle pose) because we do it a lot. And Tadasana (mountain pose)….because we do it a lot. And probably Virabhadrasana (the mighty warrior and there are 3 of them…1,2, & 3), Balasana (child pose) and of course who can forget the endless Surya Namaskar (sun salutations). But what about Gomukhasana? Or Dhanurasana? Or Natarajasana? Maybe, but it also helps to have the English versions for these as well doesn’t it? (eagle, bow, dancer in case you were wondering).

Sanskrit is clearly a beautiful, creative language. A classical language of India and one of 22 languages currently used in India, and a liturgical language of Buddhism, Hindusim and Jainaism. Because the origins of yoga lie in India then it makes sense to attach Sanskrit terminology to all that we have adopted from a yogic lifestyle, doesn’t it? Teachers continue to use Sanskrit names for yoga poses because that’s maybe how they learnt the poses, in the original language. But also because they want to honour the traditions of the practice, which is a nice idea but can be daunting for students who have little experience and no frame of reference. Much better surely to talk about a pose looking like a triangle, or having a giggle about how the hell this pose is supposed to look like a cow-face or eagle. I don’t seek to dishonour the Sanskrit tradition and language but yoga has evolved with influences from all around the globe from Sweden to Britain to the USA, and what we are left with is a hybrid of those influences based around a solid and meaningful tradition. So using the English names feels not only easier and more accessible but truer to the type of yoga I teach. Of course I still haven’t made my yogic pilgrimage to India and I might feel differently about things if I’m lucky enough to get the chance. But until then I’m sticking with camel, frog, cobra and half moon.

I do have one exception. The word ‘Namaste’ which we use to end each yoga practice with closed prayer hands and a bow of the head. Everyone does it, and accepts that is how we end our practice, no question, just a joining of hands and a bow of the head. A thank you, a well done, a pat on the back for what we just shared together. Maybe simply, gratitude for ourselves and our fellow yogis. One of my students recently told me she thought that Namaste was really beautiful and conveyed so much in one short word and I have to agree. I love that we use it as a sign of mutual respect, of honouring the sharing of the practice, of making a deeper connection, of some shared thing that is much bigger than all of us put together but that is in all of us. What does it actually mean? Many versions exist but I like the one below, and any variation of it. It’s a recognition that in all of us a divine spark exists within our hearts, and that we recognise each other, soul to soul. And who wouldn’t want to use a word like that?