Yoga vs. Pilates - Or is it all the same in the end ?

Recently, I came across a post online comparing Yoga and Pilates. The author suggested that Pilates is purely physical (all about the “burn”) while Yoga is holistic, connecting body, mind, and spirit.

As a Pilates teacher who has also taught Yoga for years, I understand the desire to draw distinctions. But I believe it’s more complicated than one being physical and the other spiritual. Whether movement is “just exercise” or something more has less to do with the modality and more to do with how we approach it.

That’s what I thought when I first commented. But the more I reflected, the more I realized it isn’t even intention that makes the difference. And it’s not as simple as “mind-body-spirit” versus “just physical” either. Looking back, I see that all movement is holistic. Whether we intend it or even notice it is another matter.

At the beginning, it was all about appearance

In my early twenties, I was very focused on how I looked. I trained to have a certain body. I did Yoga to become more flexible (not the smartest choice for someone already hyper-flexible) and, if I’m honest, to impress a boyfriend. I lifted weights to get stronger. I practiced Pilates to build the so-called “long, lean muscles” instead of getting bulky (yes, I fell for that myth, too). I ran for the weight-loss effect, even though there was no weight I needed to lose.

My reasons for working out were almost entirely physical — and heavily shaped by what others might think of me. But without me realizing it, something else was beginning to happen.

Then, something about my Yoga, Pilates and movement practice started to shift

As I kept showing up for these physical activities — Yoga, Pilates, running, or strength training — I noticed a change in my thoughts and moods.

I’m someone who tends to overthink everything. I get anxious about the future, worry about things that may never happen, or replay the past, wondering what I could have done differently. In short, being fully present does not come easily to me.

Yet here I was. Running through the lush parks of Western Australia, where I was living at the time, I noticed how different the trees were from back home. I’d watch the wildlife and feel the fresh air on my skin.

In Yoga, I was invited to “explore my edge” and reflect on how I approached it, on and off the mat. In Pilates, I paid attention to subtle details, like the difference between “floating” a leg into tabletop versus just lifting it, or lowering the spine sequentially instead of all at once.

These moments offered me something I had not consciously been looking for, but something I nonetheless needed desperately. They gave me a pause from overthinking and a way to anchor my attention in the here and now, through my body.

And it didn’t matter whether I was running, weight training, doing Pilates, or doing Yoga. The effect was the same: something far beyond the purely physical goals I had set for myself.

Over time, my perspective changed

I’ve never been one for airy-fairy spiritual talk, nor do I feel the need to define exactly what “spiritual” means. But what I have come to believe is this: movement is the alignment of the physical, the mental, and the spiritual.

For me, it started simply. As I became more mentally present in my physical experiences, my mind didn’t suddenly go quiet (I’ve never resonated with the idea of “quieting the mind”). Instead, it began to refocus. And in that shift, something deeper was happening inside me.

Slowly, over time, my priorities, my values, and even the way I saw the world began to change. To say this was all because of movement would be an overstatement — there were other influences in my life — but movement played a big role in that transformation.

What once had been about appearance and impressing a boyfriend became about checking in with myself, taking a moment to connect, and processing whatever was happening in my life. Being in my body taught me something I hadn’t known: that I could be okay in my body exactly as it was. That I didn’t need to change it or prove it to anyone.

And even in the times when I didn’t feel okay in my body, movement gave me a profound reminder: it’s okay not to be okay.

And now, this is how I teach

Looking back, I can see that even when it wasn’t my intention, my movement practice was always holistic — and not just the Yoga part of it. Today I understand why: the body is the gateway to the mind and the spirit, however you choose to define those words. It’s the entry point to a deeper connection with ourselves. And that connection can happen whether we are consciously seeking it or not.

These days, I approach movement with more awareness than I did back then, and that makes the experience even richer. But the truth is, the connection was always there. Movement was never “just physical.” It never could be.

This understanding now informs how I teach. Even in a class that looks purely “physical” on the surface, I know something more is happening underneath: people are connecting with themselves through movement.

That’s why I hold space in my classes as an invitation — an invitation to explore that connection more deeply, in whatever way feels right for each person. Whether someone comes for strength, flexibility, energy, or just a workout, I trust that the experience can ripple beyond the physical. And I love witnessing those moments when it does.