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"VANCOUVER - It's a glistening 40 C in the yoga studio where three rows of students sitting cross-legged on mats wait patiently, hands at heart in prayer.

"Let's begin by singing three times the bonjo-vi chant," says the instructor, "followed by 'Om.'"

We prepare with a deep, cleansing breath.

"Whooah, we're halfway there," he belts out, surprising newcomers to the drop-in class. "Whooah-oh! Livin' on a prayer."

If Sanskrit swapped for popular rock anthem is any indication, this is no typical yoga class. Sporting eyeliner, black nail polish and a wicked grin, Will Blunderfield dubs it "Glee Yoga," a nod to the hit TV series.

One thousand students cram into the 25-year-old's self-styled classes at five studios across the Vancouver area each week to participate in the ancient practice with Blunderfield's musical theatre twist. He teaches all the traditional poses in his hot hatha yoga classes, but they're exuberantly spiked with Tony Robbins-like motivational affirmations and set to a sensational score.

He jokingly describes himself as Richard Simmons' love child with Capt. Jack Sparrow.

"With who he is, you'd think he'd be limited in who he would attract," says Lara Kozan, co-founder of Yyoga studios, which aims to make yoga more accessible.

"Whoever you wouldn't think would resonate with his class, he has those people resonating too. They might have their eyebrow up for the first half of the class, and then they're singing along for the rest."

It may be because of Blunderfield's message: "Follow your heart, love yourself, there's nothing wrong with you," he says in an interview. Or perhaps it's his stellar voice, coupled with genuine delivery: "Do everything you're doing, but don't do it to impress people — do it to inspire."

Midway through class on this particular Friday in May, Blunderfield directs his sweat-soaked students to grab one another's hands, raise arms skyward and take several sweeping bows.

"Yoga is politically and socially subversive," he tells the room as we mimic a curtain call. "Because it makes you like yourself. And if you like yourself then you call the shots. No one can control you."

Blunderfield hasn't always been this uplifting and assertive. Four years ago he was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, and put on medication for frequent panic attacks. He spent eight dark months mostly watching "Oprah" from his couch.

His depression had started a few years earlier during the "cattle call" audition process he was enduring in New York City, where his ears rang with "No" despite two years training at the renowned American Musical and Dramatic Academy. Broke and discouraged, he returned to his hometown of West Vancouver, and that's when he delved further into the singular calming force he first discovered in acting school.

"What's helped me so much is this practice I've created, this rock 'n' roll-yoga-Bon Jovi thing," he said. "It's helped me so much that I hope I can spread it to as many people as possible.

"I know it's possible to thrive despite what your past has been, and I want other people to thrive too."

Even then, it wasn't easy.

Senior yoga teachers that Blunderfield respected told him "you're bastardizing the tradition," he recalls. At the same time, close friends and even his parents intoned a music career was out of reach. He couldn't quite shake the ego blow of being cut from the first season of "Canadian Idol" — after making it into the top 75 of 3,000 contestants — for being "too theatrical."

Blunderfield finally just decided to put up blinders.

"Quite frankly, if I listened to what they told me to do, I wouldn't be wearing makeup, I wouldn't be singing, I wouldn't be raising my voice, I wouldn't be talking about personal empowerment," he said. "And I don't believe my classes would have waiting lists."

Responding to the critics, Blunderfield says his reading of the sacred yoga texts tells him it's perfectly acceptable to drop the teachings and create your own truth.

Respected yoga guru Eoin Finn says what's paramount to every yoga practice is an element of tranquility, or "zen," that balances out the inclusion of acts to elate the spirit. He sees a "danger" of dishonouring the tradition in some new, inventive versions, like so-called disco and hip-hop yoga.

"If we're just dumbing it down and not spiritually affirming people, it's really sad," said the Vancouver-based yogi of nearly 25 years, who knows of Blunderfield but hasn't seen him teach. "But if we can make it more relevant to our cultural context it's not necessarily a bad thing.

"This is someone who's following his bliss and trying to bring it to others."

Last June Blunderfield was offered a record deal with the music label Nettwerk Records/Nutone Music. His album "Hallelujah" will be released worldwide in late July.

"He's definitely become more confident, because he's starting to get recognized and appreciated for being himself," says student Michelle Clausius, who's been taking Blunderfield's classes since Day 1 three years ago. "And that comes naturally."

Clausius says their most poignant connection occurred a few years ago, when Blunderfield found out her mother had just died.

"I just felt like for the rest of that class he was talking just to me," she said of his signature heartfelt dialogue. "Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't — but it worked for me.

"At the end of the class I was just sobbing."

As our own class concludes, the lights are dimmed and students settle supine on their mats in a final resting pose. All is quiet as Blunderfield performs a song, this time a cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah."

"He mesmerizes people," says student Tracy Tahara. "Everybody who leaves Will's class has a smile on their face."

We applaud."

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For more information, visit willblunderfield.com