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Photo: Ginny Rose Stewart
I used to think yoga wasn’t for me. All that talk of inner peace, chakras, and ‘feeling the energy’ sounded like something best left to people who casually cleanse their auras between headstands, survive on sun energy, and occasionally hop over to a Nepalese retreat to reconnect with their past lives — all while taking a vow of silence. But then, one day, my back started making noises usually reserved for haunted houses, and I figured it was time to reconsider.
Spoiler: My third eye remains firmly shut. But somehow, yoga worked its way into my life — not as a spiritual awakening, but as a surprisingly practical way to feel better in many ways. Here is how I, a thoroughly non-zen person, ended up on the mat.
I remember signing up for my first-ever yoga class when I was 18, eager to try out every possible session at my gym. Eventually, yoga made its way onto the list. To be honest, I don’t recall much about it — except for one thing: I fell so deeply asleep at the end (something I now know is called savasana) that the teacher had to wake me up.
Back then, yoga didn’t quite become a regular part of my routine. In my mid-20s, I dabbled in it occasionally and even had a membership at a yoga studio — but purely for the stretches, the pleasant, relaxed vibe, and the blissful absence of stereotypical gym bros grunting over dumbbells. I had a practical relationship with it: I would show up, do my thing, and leave without thinking too much about it. Not exactly romantic, but that was the gist of it.
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Photo: The Nix Company
The shift came when I turned 29. Juggling my career, personal life, self-care, and constant travel, topped off with moving to a new country and rebuilding my life from scratch, was a bit too much for my body to handle. Every stressful moment or lack of routine hit me physically. Eventually, I realised something had to change. Back in Moscow, I had enjoyed combining aerial stretching with tennis, and it worked well for me. But here in Amsterdam, where aerial studios are nearly non-existent, I had to let go of that and started searching for alternatives. Yoga was the closest and easiest option to pick up.
I began exploring different studios and styles of yoga — from Hatha and Vinyasa to Yin, restorative, and hot yoga. Some classes left me wondering why I even bothered — a bit too focused on the spiritual side and lacking the movement I craved, while others just didn’t have the right energy. I am not even talking about all these times I felt like an imposter worming my way in between people chanting the ‘Om’ sound. But, as with most things, it was all part of the trial-and-error process, and eventually, I found a few places that felt like the perfect fit. What I didn’t expect was that the greatest benefit I gained wasn’t just physical, but mental too — the peace of mind I didn’t realise I had been needing.
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Photo: Polina Kuzovkova
I started practicing yoga during a pretty chaotic time in my life, full of doubts, challenges, and the usual panic about the unknown. Strangely enough, I found some comfort in the yogic stories my teacher would share from ancient texts. Combined with the physical aspect of yoga, these sutras, with their moral and philosophical lessons, didn’t exactly lead to any spiritual epiphanies, but they did help me stop being so hard on myself and maybe even relax a little — which, let us be honest, was a win.
From that moment on, I stepped onto the mat with the intention of finding that mental stillness and, quite frankly, the balance I had forgotten about. It recharged me for the most part of the day, helping me carry on with a clearer mind. After a while, I noticed something interesting: while I was focused on the mental benefits, my body was getting stronger too. Once I stopped obsessing over achieving physical results, I suddenly realised that many asanas were coming much easier. Consistency had made me more flexible and released the tension in my back that used to seize up every time stress hit.
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Photo: Dane Wetton
I stopped seeing yoga solely as a tool for getting healthier and began to appreciate it as something more complex. Now, I approach each class with fewer prejudices and more of an open mind. Did it turn me into a spiritual guru? Not exactly, but I now chant ‘Om’ with confidence — even if I am the only one doing it.
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