Why Practising Together in a Room Still Matters

There is more access to yoga now than ever before.

Classes on demand. Short practices you can fit into a busy day. Entire libraries of movement available at the tap of a screen - often for free. This accessibility has value, and for many people it has opened the door to a practice they might never have tried otherwise.

And yet, I keep noticing the same quiet thing - in myself, and in the people who walk through the studio doors: practising together, in a room, still matters.

When you practise at home, you’re still surrounded by the rhythms of your everyday world. The house, the tasks waiting, the subtle sense of being on call. I notice it myself: as I move into a forward fold - there’s the fluff under the sofa. There’s the laundry basket in the corner. The phone that’s technically on silent but still within reach. The voice of a child as I settle into Savasana : “Mum, how long are you going to be?”

The dog. The doorbell. The mental to-do list. Even with the best intentions, part of you stays alert.

Walking into a studio creates a pause. You cross the threshold into somewhere different. You leave your phone behind (or at least on silent and in the other room!)
For an hour, nothing else is required of you and no-one can reach you. That shift alone can be deeply settling for the nervous system.

And that shift begins the moment you walk through the studio door. You step out of your roles.
You leave your phone in the other room (or maybe even at home - can you imagine?!)
You give yourself permission - just for an hour - to not be needed.

That alone is powerful.

But then - the magic deepens. It’s felt in the chats before and after class, the smiles and nod of recognition from the others who have gathered. Because being seen matters - by the others in the room, but also by the teacher. In a shared space, a teacher can notice things that are easy to miss on a screen.

A breath that has become shallow.
A body that needs more rest than effort.
A room that feels tired, or quiet, or ready to move.

The practice responds to the people in it. It changes slightly from week to week, shaped by the energy of the room and the needs of those present. That responsiveness creates a sense of safety - of being met where you are.

A recorded video can’t do that. Even a live online class can only do it to a degree.

In a shared space, the practice becomes a conversation, not a broadcast.

And on the subject of conversation - some of the most beautiful, meaningful moments happen in those chats before and after class. That’s where connections are made, friendships are formed and bonds strengthened. These moments might be small, but they accumulate and make your practice something you carry with you and which shapes your life - becomes part of the rhythm and the fabric and (hopefully) keeps you coming back. To feel, in your bones, the incredible magic when a room of people breathe together, move together, laugh together and wobble together. And then to bask in the stillness and quiet of the final ‘Namaste’ - like you’re all wrapped in an energetic blanket you’ve weaved together over the last hour.

Look, this isn’t about doing yoga “better” or choosing the “right” way to practise. There are many benefits to practising online if you live far from a studio or can’t travel. But I’ve also come to ponder whether the proliferation of online yoga and the relative quiet of many in-person yoga studios is pointing to something else: that perhaps many people are now anxious about what is becoming more rare - in person, embodied experiences in REAL time where there’s a person sitting next to you or opposite you who might just strike up a conversation or make eye contact and you can’t just SWITCH IT OFF.

But come on - this is what we, as humans, are made for. Connection. Physical experiences in the physical world. Becaause otherwise we might as well just be floating heads. It might be scary (just like actual phone calls as opposed to a text have become for many), but this Millennial is ready to die on the hill of real, in-person, human experiences. Ok, maybe that’s a little dramatic (you can take the ex-drama teacher out of the drama studio etc etc) but you get my gist.

AND - if you’re craving a place to practise in real time, with real people, you’re always welcome at SoulTribe.

Lucy xx

P.S If this sparked something in you, and you want to share your opinions and thoughts with me, I would LOVE that. Zap across an email to lucy@soultribestudios.co.uk