People who do this practice are allergic to fakey-fake peace and love not because they hate the idea of love but because the fake stuff cheapens the unavoidable, inconvenient, uncalled-for all-out love that practice begins to generate. Practitioners get the idea that this seemingly hard-won love is special, and get pretty good at spotting its cheap imitation. They get a little secretive about this aspect of their experience, because it is the best part and feels worth protecting.
So for all the salience of resistance, insecurity and frustration—for all the sharp edges—in the ways we talk about the yoga, the mainspring of practice is the addictiveness of the inimitable, irreducible high it generates.
And, ultimately, the experience that speaks to our intuitions to tell us we are doing something right is nothing other than embodied love.