Luuk Melisse is the Netherlands-born founder of Sanctum, a global movement community blending kundalini yoga, martial arts, high-intensity training, music, and storytelling. Once a professional dancer and performer, he turned personal loss and spiritual exploration into a worldwide phenomenon that now has chapters in Amsterdam, London, Dubai, and soon Stockholm. His mission: to redefine wellness as social connection, not self-optimisation.

— You have said before that Sanctum is your personal story. Tell me how it all began.

— Sanctum really is my life in movement. Sometimes I look back and think, “Did this all really happen in just five years?” But in a way, it has been unfolding since I was six. My mother — she was a deeply intuitive, spiritual woman — signed me up for dance classes because she saw I was creative. I fell in love instantly. Theatre, music, storytelling — I was obsessed. At eight, I told her I wanted to be a dancer.

By 11 I was in ballet academy; by 18 I was touring in musicals. It was magical but competitive. Once you start earning money from passion, the passion starts to shrink. My mother passed away when I was 21. She was a medium, doing reiki and energy work long before it was cool. Before she died, she told me, “You have something that I have — explore it.” That sentence changed my life.

After that, I dove into everything: Buddhism, Vipassana, energy healing, kundalini yoga, martial arts, qigong, tai chi. I traveled the world to see how shamans, monks, and healers approached energy. But I also lived in the West — I love beautiful hotels, I have an ego, I enjoy material things. I realised I was living in two worlds. And I started to ask: Can I bring them together?

Every class I knew focused on one thing — a workout, or a meditation, or a release. I wanted to create something that did it all: physical, emotional, spiritual, communal. That was the seed of Sanctum — a sequence mixing high-intensity movement, kundalini yoga, martial arts, music, and storytelling.

And then COVID hit — divine timing. I finally had time to write it out. I started teaching tiny classes, one or two people, in a small studio. It wasn’t even called Sanctum yet. But something incredible happened — people cried, screamed, connected. They weren’t chasing perfection; they were becoming authentic. I realised we have a crisis of expression and a crisis of community. We are more connected than ever, but lonelier than ever. Sanctum was my answer to both.

— And you started in Amsterdam?

— Yes, in the middle of COVID, in a friend’s small studio. Then I thought — if we are building community, we can’t be ordinary. So I started asking for extraordinary spaces. One day I walked into a church, spoke to the pastor, and said: “Can we use your space to make people feel better?” He said yes. That was the beginning.

Soon we were hosting classes in churches around Amsterdam, a few times a week. Then we opened in London two years ago, in Dubai six months ago, and next we will open in Stockholm. Our model is nomadic — we don’t own spaces; we collaborate with existing ones that already tell a story: a church, a warehouse, a rooftop, a desert. Location shapes emotion.

— I joined the desert session — it was wild and liberating. But how does Sanctum feel inside, at SIRO One Za’abeel?

— We have a few formats. The signature sequence is our core — the one I have refined over five years. It is built like a story arc: physical intensity to the point of exhaustion, then connection, then elevation. You raise the energy, you meet yourself, and then — unlike yoga, which ends in stillness — we end in release. We call it “elevate.”

Every week has a different theme and soundtrack, and each guide (our instructors) shares part of their own story. That is what makes it so personal. At SIRO, we run it during sunset — lights dimming, scent in the air, music swelling. It is still an experience, just framed differently.

Dubai inspired me. Honestly, I arrived skeptical — I thought it might be too superficial. But the energy here blew me away. It is fast, passionate, ambitious. We ran one trial class — and I thought, “They’re not going to get this.” But then people screamed, cried, and danced. They found a place to express themselves. That is when I knew: Dubai was ready for Sanctum.

— It is true — people here need that. I saw participants go from shy to fearless in one hour.

— That is the secret of Sanctum. I have spent time in Sri Lanka, meditating with monks, doing kundalini in white turbans — all inspiring, but inaccessible for many. I wanted to democratize transformation. Trick people into energy work, almost.

So I added humour. Joy. Techno. Madonna. What if I put a kundalini move to a Madonna track? It worked. Suddenly, people who would never enter a meditation class were having an emotional breakthrough on a dance floor. We use the body not to look better, but to feel higher.

— And the community aspect — it seems to be your secret ingredient.

— Yes. You can plan a community, but the real community grows itself. We have WhatsApp groups for every city where people share schedules, quotes, reflections. Members create their own groups too — smaller circles, new friendships.

It is fascinating — people are socialising through wellness now. Ten years ago, we met friends at a bar; now it is a sound bath or an ice bath. Wellness became the new nightlife. Sanctum sits right there — social wellness. The world doesn’t need more fitness; it needs belonging. Dubai, by the way, is our fastest-growing market so far.

— It makes sense. The city’s energy has shifted — people are done with hangovers and ready for healing.

— Exactly. But I still believe in the release. When I was younger, I partied a lot. And I miss that momentum of freedom — of not taking yourself seriously. That is what Sanctum keeps alive. The music, the sweat, the laughter. Wellness can be joyful, not ascetic.

— What is next for Sanctum Dubai?

— We are expanding beyond SIRO. We are hosting an end-of-year desert hike and fire ceremony in December — writing intentions, burning what no longer serves us. We are adding weekly rooftop classes on the Palm, sessions at La Banya Russian Bathhouse, Alserkal Avenue, and The Slate Warehouse. We want Sanctum everywhere — accessible to anyone, any day.

And we are building bridges: collaborations with Jumeirah Hotels, appearances at the Global Wellness Summit, and a digital platform launching in January — immersive online Sanctum experiences filmed in iconic locations, with a global community channel built into the app.

— So if someone joins in Dubai and then travels to Stockholm or Amsterdam, they are still part of it?

— Totally. Our website already lists all markets, and we are redesigning it so every city has its own home — with events, guides, and community. You will be able to land anywhere, open the app, and find your tribe. That is my dream: a movement family without borders.

— That is beautiful. I like the idea that Sanctum can be your visa to a new country.

— Exactly. That is the purpose — to make movement a medium for connection. When people ask me what Sanctum really is, I tell them: it isn't a workout, it is a ritual for belonging.