Learn a bit about Asthanga yoga from Jörgen Christiansson, a Certified Ashtanga yoga teacher with more than 30 years experience. He and Dr. Hill speak about yoga, meditation, long days in Sweden, and why Ashtangis take “Moon Days” off. Jörgen Christiansson is certified by the Sri.K. Pattabhi Jois Ashtanga Yoga Institute in Mysore India and has had a lifelong relationship with Yoga. With more than 30 years of teaching experience, he teaches Ashtanga Yoga in the same traditional manner as was taught to him by his Guru. Jörgen has a unique ability to sense each student’s limits and abilities. With his positive and inspiring nature, he safely helps his students break through old patterns and fears.
Episode Summary
On a recent episode of my Head First podcast I sat down with my own Ashtanga teacher, a Swedish-born instructor certified by the Sri K. Pattabhi Jois Ashtanga Yoga Institute in Mysore, India. He has taught for more than thirty years, and his studio shares a wall with my brain training practice in Culver City. I have practiced with him for a couple of years now, and the conversation gave me a chance to ask the questions I had been carrying about what the practice actually does.
This article pulls the substance out of that conversation and adds the neuroscience I see in the clinic. I will keep my guest anonymous beyond the basics he shares publicly.
What is yoga, actually?
Most people in the West hear "yoga" and picture the poses. The poses are one piece. My teacher described yoga as a state of union between the universal and the individual self, with the physical practice as the entry point.
The body-oriented work falls under hatha yoga, which covers the four lower limbs of the eight-limbed system: the yamas and niyamas (ethical and personal observances), asana (the poses), and pranayama (breath control). Those four are where you start. They support everything that comes after.
The body is the easiest thing to control, which is why you begin there. You hold a pose for about five breaths, fix your gaze on one point, and breathe. That looks physical. What it trains is attention.
What are the eight limbs of Ashtanga yoga?
Ashtanga means "eight limbs." It refers to the system Patanjali described in the Yoga Sutras a little over two thousand years ago. He wrote a manual for stilling the mind, step by step.
The first four limbs are the hatha foundation. After those come:
- Pratyahara — withdrawal of the senses
- Dharana — concentration
- Dhyana — meditation
- Samadhi — the absorbed, blissful state
You cannot skip to the top. Sitting with a slouched body and a mind full of fluctuations makes meditation close to impossible. The lower limbs hold up the higher ones. That sequencing matches what I see in the data. Your prefrontal cortex runs attention and inhibition, and it works better when the body underneath it is regulated rather than fighting you.
Why does Ashtanga feel like a workout and a meditation at once?
When I first started, I would leave a ninety-minute session feeling like I had both lifted weights and finished a long sit. I would get the muscular fatigue of strength work and the stillness I usually only reach after a half-day of seated meditation.
The breath-linked movement keeps you anchored to a single point of focus, the drishti, while the physical demand keeps your arousal up. You are training sustained attention under load. In QEEG terms, that combination tends to quiet excess frontal theta (the drifting, distractible state) and build the steady, present-time focus people chase in seated practice. The meditative quality showed up in my practice on its own, without me trying to produce it. That tracks. You train the lower limbs, and the higher states arrive when the system is ready.
For the underlying neuroscience of what seated practice does to the brain, I cover it in Biohacking Meditation and in Mindfulness: Don't Just Do Something, Sit There.
What is Mysore-style practice?
Mysore is a city in South India where Pattabhi Jois taught. The name describes a self-paced format, not a difficulty level. You memorize the sequence and move through it at your own breath and rhythm while a teacher circulates and adjusts.
This format is the reason I stuck with the practice. In a led class where everyone moves at the same tempo, you get pulled toward compromising or overdoing. In Mysore, you start from wherever you are, at any age, with any physical limitation. You sign up for a month and aim for six days a week. Early on your practice might be twenty or thirty minutes.
Twenty minutes a day beats ninety minutes once a week, and the effect is different in kind, not just in degree. Daily repetition is how you build a habit your brain defends on its own. I now find that after a few lazy days my body starts pulling me toward sun salutations. That is the basal-ganglia habit circuitry doing its job once the routine is encoded. The neuroscience of making a habit stick is in New Year, New Habits, and the case for a short daily anchor is in Biohacking Your Morning.
The self-paced format also taught me without my noticing. A few weeks into practice I went to a led primary class at a retreat and people assumed I was experienced. I had absorbed the sequence by focusing on my own breath rather than on getting it right.
How does the breath control your mind?
The breath is the lever. In Ashtanga you breathe with sound, a soft whispered contraction in the throat, mouth closed. People sometimes confuse it with ujjayi breath; my teacher is careful to call it breathing with sound. The audible quality does two things. It lengthens the breath, and it gives you instant feedback. If the sound stops, you stopped breathing.
That feedback loop matters more than most beginners realize. When pain shows up, the reflex is to hold the breath. Holding the breath signals distress to the body. You tense, your sympathetic system ramps up, and the tissue that needs to release locks down instead. Breathing through the moment keeps the parasympathetic side online and lets the body open. For the circuit-level version of that stress response and how to down-regulate it, see Biohacking Fight or Flight.
There is also mula bandha, a slight energetic lift and awareness at the perineum. In the beginning I tell people not to worry too much about it and to focus on free breathing first. For me it has done real work for a chronic lower-back issue. I blew two discs decades ago. Most exercise I have tried aggravates it. Morning Ashtanga, with breath-linked movement and a light lower-body engagement, has reduced that pain in a way that surprised me. The honest framing here is clinical observation, not a controlled trial. Forward folds that lengthen the hamstrings reduce the pull on the lower back, and the practice keeps blood flowing through tissue rather than letting it seize. If you feel a sharp pain, back off and ask your teacher. If a pose is uncomfortable while you are in it but the discomfort clears when you come out, that is usually opening.
Why do Ashtangis take moon days off?
Practitioners take full-moon and new-moon days off. The common explanation points to the moon's gravitational pull on bodies of water, and the idea that since we are mostly water, those extreme tidal moments are not the time to push your body. The more practical history: when Pattabhi Jois taught under the Maharaja of Mysore, full and new moons were busy times of religious ceremony, so a day off was natural.
Whatever the origin, the rhythm is useful. Six days a week plus moon days lands you around twenty-two practice days a month. When I started counting it that way, the commitment stopped feeling intimidating. Twenty-two days is manageable. Thirty sounds like a wall. For anyone building a new routine, how you frame the target changes whether you stick with it, which is the practical core of Biohacking Bad Habits.
Is Ashtanga only for the young and flexible?
People hear "Ashtanga" and assume it is hardcore, intense, and physically punishing. That has not been my experience, and it has not been the experience in the studio I practice in. I see slender twenty-somethings, and I see older and heavier people who cannot touch their toes. Pattabhi Jois put it plainly: Ashtanga is for the young, the old, the weak, the sick. The one disqualifier is the unwillingness to get up and get on the mat.
The fear usually comes secondhand, from someone who either never practiced Ashtanga or learned it from a teacher whose attitude was the problem. The teacher's intention shapes the room. A teacher running on ego, who wants students to fear or impress them, produces an intense, intimidating space. A teacher creating a safe container for people to grow produces the opposite.
That points to a real issue with training. A weekend or 200-hour certificate is not a standardized credential. Certification in this lineage takes closer to twenty years. The danger with a short course is that new teachers believe they are ready to handle students who walk in with injuries and problems, and they often are not. Humility is part of the job.
How does a morning practice change the rest of your day?
The lineage is part of what makes this practice distinct. My teacher learned from Pattabhi Jois, who learned from Krishnamacharya, who studied for years with a teacher living in the Himalayas. Knowledge passed teacher to student carries something a YouTube video cannot reproduce. As Pattabhi Jois put it, the practice is 99 percent practice, 1 percent theory.
What it does for me day to day is concrete. After a morning practice around 8 a.m., my bandwidth for clients is settled. The mental noise gets sorted before I sit down to work. I can listen quietly, stay present, and stop reaching for coffee or for the next thought. This fits what we know about morning conditioning. How you regulate your nervous system in the first hours sets the tone the rest of the day inherits. The practice trains tapasya, a willingness to tolerate rather than follow every impulse the senses throw at you, and that capacity for self-regulation generalizes well beyond the mat.
To start, treat it as twenty or thirty minutes you add to your daily routine. Find a qualified teacher and get into a room. Books and videos will not replace direct instruction, and once the routine encodes, your body will start asking for it on its own.