How yoga made me a better writer

My recent 30th birthday, the coronavirus health crisis, and spending time during the summer with my aging grandfather all reminded me of the vulnerability of my body. I will only ever have one, it’s this one, and as a desk-bound knowledge worker, I need to make sure I tend to it.

And so I set out on my hero’s journey to loosen up my tight hamstrings.

I made a pact with myself to rediscover my body. Since then, I’ve done more than 200 hours of formal and informal training — ranging from yoga, a 10-day qi gong retreat in the forest, dynamic mobility and flexibility training, and pilates.

All of it was phenomenal, and helped me in many aspects of my life — which I will write about in a future piece — but the most unexpected part was that it actually made me a better writer.

A better writer?


I’ve found that the hallmark of the best yoga teachers, or any physical movement trainer, is in how they cue.

Here’s an example of a cue:

“Reach your hand out as if you’re about to fall off a cliff and your celebrity crush is trying to save you.”

Short, descriptive, impactful, and tells you exactly where you need to focus without getting too technical.

Here’s another one, from a qi gong instructor:

“Feel your feet spread out across the ground like pancake batter poured into the pan”

Some cues start with common, relatable imagery that anchor as a base, and then build up to more advanced techniques. For example, here’s how to do the “breath of fire” pranayama technique:

“Pant like a dog first, but then inhale with your nose instead of your mouth”

Cues are often accessible. Instead of gatekeeping with technical jargon, they get the point across with astounding simplicity.

You could say:

abduct your rotator cuffs laterally as you elevate your occiput, eccentrically contracting the upper trapezius.

Or you could just say:

“Create space between your shoulders and neck like you’re a turtle poking your head out from its shell.”

Boom, straight to the point. Less cognitive load, less analytical mind, more imagination and embodiment.

And sometimes, the cues are just plain hilarious:

“Keep your legs together as if you’re holding the winning lottery ticket between your thighs and I’m trying to take it from you”


I’ve learned that I don’t need to write a fully qualified washing machine manual everytime I share an idea. Instead I can embody a light-hearted poetic ease, and just plant a few visually striking seeds in the reader’s mind.

If you’re looking to up your writing game and get inspired, try out a yoga class. Maybe some guided sun salutations is all you really need.


Do you have a favorite cue? Get in touch on Twitter at @pratik_is_ I’d love to hear from you.