The Covid lockdown era, when classes moved to Zoom, and then to the odd hybrid model that reshaped yoga worldwide forever, brought home to me the often imperceptible importance of practicing with others, despite the discipline being all about the individual on their own mat.

Back in 2016 I had interviewed some of my favourite teachers for an article Why are all these DJs teaching yoga?, which explored the similarity between a class full of moving yogis and a heaving dancefloor. Having been raving substantially longer than I’ve practiced yoga, I can say that I find the same hedonistic release in movement, the same moments of collective effervescence on the mat as on the dancefloor. Having other bodies around you clearly provides that essential human sense of community and connection – you don’t actually need to speak or know, or even acknowledge each other to still reap all of those benefits.  

Community and belonging therefore doesn’t have to just be about social interaction, lovely as that bit is. Moving and breathing in unison offers powerful positive effects on us, regardless. As a 50-something bloke who is often in classes that skew more towards 20-something ballet dancer types, I could be excused for feeling uncomfortable, excluded or out of place, but I actively want to lean into the difference.

Attempting to hold wobbly handstands next to people who can do it with such grace gives me all the benefits of community movement, if I can melt my ego enough, which is of course what yoga should be all about, anyway. (I can also shamelessly channel my inner 20-something ballerina, which is almost as much fun as being a beginner again.)

Over the years, the now explosively popular pursuit of yoga has had its problems with gurus, and big fallouts and reckonings with their abuses. It has seen a Ponzi-style over commodification of trainings that led to too many teachers chasing too few jobs, and even the depressing drift to the far right of people in the alt-wellness space, but I’ve witnessed Triyoga adapt and change with Western yoga’s trials and tribulations.

When the centre had to leave its original home in Primrose Hill, it felt like all might be lost, until the converted piano factory it moved to off Jamestown Rd breathed a whole new dynamism into everything instead.

I said Triyoga has been a constant in my life, but of course it’s never stopped changing and evolving due to necessity, too. Through the challenges of lockdowns, the impact of Insta influencers, the arrival of so many new London studios and trend-led styles, the re-evaluation of consent in manual adjusting and loads more, it has shifted and progressed. I chat with Susannah about how our bodies are the same.  

“Recognising constant change is an important part of yoga,” she says. “If you don’t bring a fresh awareness into your daily poses, you might as well just do a downward dog once. Yoga is about going with the flow and accepting – not trying to be in control of everything. Sometimes we limit our capabilities by having a fixed view of how we think things should be. The more we make it all about ourselves, the more separated, isolated and insecure we all feel. Ultimately we’ve always tried to cultivate a sense of gratitude here. I’m certain that is why we still love it, 25 years on.”

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