What Farscape Taught Me About Yoga (yes, the sci-fi show with the puppets)
Okay so I love super cheesy, extra nerdy, late 90s + early 2000s sci-fi shows. If it has wormhole technology, I’ve probably watched it…probably more than once. This winter as I’ve been hibernating, I’ve been watching the sci-fi classic Farscape (yes, the one with the Jim Henson puppets). Maybe not the first place you’d think to go for yoga wisdom, right? But what I love about sci-fi as a genre is the way it reflects deep human truths through totally unbelievable plots and settings.
In one episode of the show, the character Zhaan, an alien priestess devoted to enlightenment and non-violence, chooses to retreat into meditation while her spaceship and friends are in imminent danger. She explains that she is deepening her spiritual practice, withdrawing from the chaos around her. When Aeryn Sun, a pragmatic soldier, checks in on her, the exchange is sharp and striking:
Zhaan: “I love you.”
Aeryn: “You what?”
Zhaan: “I love you. I love all living beings. The Seek has reopened my eyes to the wonder of the spirit. I am now going to devote my life to enlightenment.”
Aeryn: “Oh. Well, I think that's really selfish, actually. You know, before you bliss off completely into oblivion, you might want to have a little look around you, because Moya and Talyn are in danger.”
After I watched this episode, I couldn’t shake this scene from my mind. I had mini debates in my head about if there was a spark of truth to be found here, or if this was just a really a great piece of entertainment. Does the philosophy here really check out? And how does yoga, turning inward, and enlightenment fit in my daily life—especially when so much violence and devastation is going on around me?
This scene challenges the idea that enlightenment is about withdrawing from the world. Zhaan’s spiritual practice feels hollow because it disconnects her from the present moment and the needs of those around her. It’s a striking reminder that being “above it all” is not the same as being truly enlightened. Aeryn’s words cut to the heart of what it means to love: it’s not enough to feel peace or radiate goodwill. True love, like true yoga, calls us to engage fully with the world—even when it’s messy, chaotic, or dangerous.
Yoga teaches us to be present, content within ourselves, and loving toward others. But that love can’t be passive. Zhaan’s initial detachment might look like serenity, but in reality, it’s avoidance. Her refusal to act isn’t compassionate—it’s selfish. To practice yoga is to find the courage to confront suffering, not to ignore it.
In my own practice, I’ve seen how easy it is to mistake detachment for wisdom. The quiet of meditation, the comfort of a peaceful moment—these are valuable, but they’re not the end goal. Yoga asks us to take what we cultivate on the mat and bring it into the world. It’s about holding space for both calm and action, about balancing inner peace with outer awareness.
And I think going too deep on any one piece of yoga without the larger context of the practice often leaves us with empty platitudes, dogma for dogma’s sake, and moral excuses not to be fully present. It’s easy to turn inward at the expense of being aware of the outward. Yoga doesn’t ask us to lose sight of the world; it invites us to find contentment with ourselves regardless of what’s raging on around us. How can we truly achieve that if we close our eyes to the world?
So the next time I’m tempted to retreat into my own bubble and call it “enlightenment,” I’ll think of Zhaan and Aeryn. I’ll remember that the true path of yoga isn’t about escaping the world—it’s about showing up for it. Enlightenment isn’t found in detachment; it’s found in the courage to love deeply, act boldly, and stay present with whatever the moment demands.
