Kriya Yoga: The Art of Doing the Work Without Forcing the Outcome

Yoga Is More Than a Workout... But It’s Still Work

There’s a specific kind of student who finds their way to my classes.

They’re not looking to "just stretch." They crave challenge. They love the edge. They want to sweat, flip upside down, and feel like they’ve earned their savasana.

I get that. I love teaching like that. I believe in hard work, in discipline, in devoting yourself fully to something that asks everything of you.

But I’ve also taught long enough to know: intensity alone doesn’t lead to transformation. Intentionality does.
​
Which is why I keep returning to the three core principles of Kriya Yoga—Tapas, Svādhyāya, and Īśvarapraṇidhāna—as my compass. Not just on the mat, but in my whole life.

A Season of Big Moves (Literally and Metaphorically)

Not long ago, I found myself in a period of major transition. New projects, new spaces, new levels of visibility. The kind of momentum I’d spent years preparing for.

But I noticed something strange: the more I did, the more I wanted to do. And not always for the right reasons. I was chasing excellence, yes—but also approval, validation, and control.

One night, after teaching back-to-back classes and still feeling like I hadn’t done “enough,” I sat on my mat, alone in the studio, and asked myself:

    “If this isn’t it, then what is?”

The answer came through the lens of Kriya Yoga and its Three Pillars. 

Tapas: Discipline with Direction

Most people think of Tapas as willpower or grit—and that’s part of it. But in the Yoga Sutras, Tapas isn’t about pushing harder for the sake of achievement. It’s about choosing the right kind of friction. The kind that transforms you.

I had to ask myself: am I turning up the heat in ways that purify—or just burn?

So I started re-centering my effort. More time in self-practice. Less time in performance mode. I stopped saying yes to everything, and started protecting the part of me that creates from love—not ego.

Tapas reminds me: effort is sacred when it’s aligned.

Svadhyaya: Self Study and Inquiry

In today’s world, we’re constantly “studying” ourselves through content: how we look, how we show up, how we compare.

But Svādhyāya is about a different kind of study.

For me, it showed up in the quiet moments—when I tracked my impulses, noticed my reactions, examined why certain people triggered me or why I suddenly felt empty after an exciting class.

It also meant returning to the texts that first lit me up: The Gitas, The Yoga Sutras, even old journal entries from when I first fell in love with yoga. I reconnected with my “why,” and found that I hadn’t lost it—it had just been buried under layers of output.

Self-study doesn’t always give you answers. But it sharpens your questions.

Ishvarapranidhana: Faith & Devotion

Ishvarapranidhana often gets misunderstood as “giving up.” But in truth, it’s about giving over—releasing the illusion that you control every outcome, and having faith that something wiser might be at play. It's truly the deepest form of devotion.

During this period of transition, I had to face some tough decisions. Ones where there wasn’t a clear “right” choice—just the invitation to trust.

Trust that the students would come.

Trust that the right collaborations would unfold.

Trust that rest wouldn’t undo my momentum, it would refine it.
​​
And trust that who I was becoming mattered more than what I was building.

Kriya Yoga in the 21st Century

You don’t have to sit on a mountain top to practice Kriya Yoga.

You can:

• Show up consistently to your favorite yoga class (Tapas)
• Reflect post-class on the dharma and deeper teachings (Svādhyāya)
• And then trust that showing up and being present was enough (Īśvarapraṇidhāna)

This path isn’t about doing less. It’s about doing what matters—with clarity, with integrity, and with enough spaciousness to receive what all that effort is preparing you for.

Kriya Yoga teaches us to channel intensity into devotion. To turn work into worship. To pursue mastery—not of the pose, but of the Self.
​
And when the fire, the focus, and the faith align?
That’s when it all clicks.