Devotion Without Dogma

On bhakti as beauty, presence, and quiet reverence.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be devoted.

Not just in the way we’re taught in yoga philosophy — though I do love the concept of bhakti, the path of devotion. And not only in the quiet rituals we sometimes associate with spirituality — incense, chanting, altar offerings. Those moments are beautiful, and they matter. I’ve found such nourishment in ceremony and ritual over the years, both personal and shared.

But devotion, for me, has become something broader. It’s the thread that runs through all of it — the sacred and the ordinary, the seen and the unseen. It’s the way I try to stay close to what matters.

Sometimes, that means lighting a candle before I begin work. Sometimes it’s reciting a mantra under my breath while pushing the pram or folding laundry. And sometimes it’s sitting awake in the dead of night, writing studio emails or updating systems while my baby sleeps on my chest — offering whatever energy I have left in service of something I care deeply about.

That, too, is devotion.

We often think devotion had to look a certain way. A daily practice on the mat. A full morning routine. A clear, defined ritual. But these days, it’s messier. It’s more woven into the fabric of my real life — not separate from it. And maybe that’s the point.

Devotion is showing up when it’s hard.

It’s pausing to breathe in a moment of overwhelm.It’s remembering the lessons of practice, even when I can’t make it to the mat.

It’s how I return to presence — again and again, in all the small ways that make up a life.

You don’t need a temple or a timetable to be devoted. You don’t need to believe in anything in particular. You just need to care, deeply. And to keep showing up — imperfectly, tenderly, again and again.

If you’re curious to explore your own devotion, you might try:

• Lighting a candle before a daily task, just to mark it as sacred.

• Whispering a word or phrase that grounds you while brushing your teeth, walking, or tidying.

• Placing a small object somewhere visible — a stone, a flower, a photo — to remind you of what you love.

• Offering your breath, your focus, your care to something without rushing.

• Noticing which moments make you feel connected — and creating a little more space for them.

Whatever shape it takes, devotion doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be real.

With love,Rebecca x