Two weeks on from participating in John Stirk’s profound ‘The Source’ workshop at Mission E1 I write some words about the experience and the subtle ways it has influenced my self practice and teaching since. Taking influence from his two books, The Original Body and Deeper Still.

The body is an ocean. Conceptual as this might sound, it is the truth of our existence. Within the container of the skin, our muscular, skeletal and organ systems are all supported through a matrix of gel-like interstitial fluid, humming with streams and trickles of nutrients and oxygen. As this fluid passes through thin membranes it is transformed - becoming a host of other fluid components within the body.

In the days after a near-year long deep dive into a Daoist Flow teacher training, I’m taking a little time to reflect on my initial intentions when starting this course, observing the things that have shifted and the things that have deepened in my practice 11 months on.

Those of you who practise with me regularly will know we explore something a little different each week - with changing patterns and themes that move through the seasons. I love the creative work behind putting a class plan together but I’ll be honest, it’s been a bit of a journey getting this process aligned and it’s only in recent months that I’ve really hit a rhythm with class planning.

Observation gives us the opportunity to step back from the roles of student and teacher and instead observe, without participating, as the class unfolds. This is a truly fascinating space to inhabit and I’ve found the practice completely eye-opening.

This week I’ve been approaching intentions with an open and somatic approach - allowing the quality to be felt in the body, considering where it arises and how it might feel. We then receive it with each inhale before releasing the grip with each exhale. This pairing with the breath is powerful work and I can feel the difference in the room. This is the nature of intention, where there is no regard for the outcome, rather, the value is placed on the experience of present noticing. It is designed to be let go, in order to flourish and grow naturally.

Today marks the spring equinox and 6 glorious months of long days and warmer temperatures lay ahead. If, like me, you love to spend as many hours of the day soaking up the sun's rays as possible, this can feel like a powerful and exciting time.

After our second intensive study session, here’s a few reflections from our work on primary movement patterns - where we have been questioning the way we approach patterns in asana and transitions and start to explore non-linear ways of moving on the mat.

This started as my very first regular class after finishing my 200 hour training back in the summer of 2021. It’s been the most gorgeous space to host classes and I have loved having the freedom to develop my practice here - exploring new styles, testing the waters and building confidence with each week. I can’t thank the Pamban team enough for opening the doors to me as a brand new teacher.

Late summer is the fifth season followed in Chinese five element theory. It falls through August and September, when the peak of fiery heat begins to fade and we transition to the hazy days of late summer. It’s a season to ground, find clarity and slow down to appreciate the richness of life. It always resonates with a feeling of ‘coming home’ to me.

The nervous system. This intricate physiological system controls everything we do. It is our source of internal communication, with nerves running through the entirety of the body - carrying messages for the mind to interpret, process and then make appropriate actions.

In yin yoga we have the chance to explore the curious process of taking things slow. During a class we’ll hold poses for around 5 minutes. Exploring the subtlest movements in the body and the sense of true presence that runs alongside these mindful observations. Approached with a soft kindness, there is no end point or final expression to the shapes we hold.

Taking a month out from London winter, Drew and myself have set up home in Southern Sri Lanka for 4 weeks of surf and sun. Aaahhh. We’ve just finished 3 days of surfing with Surf School Sri Lanka in Kabalana Beach and it’s got me thinking about the beautiful overlap between surf and yoga. Beyond the obvious strength and mobility a regular yoga practice can give you, the underlying principles of truly being present, awareness of the body and a sense of softening in to movement can really change the experience on the board.

As we grow older, our opportunities to try something new become fewer and fewer. The more we settle into our familiar habits, the less comfortable we feel expanding our comfort zone. And while there is a valuable sense of security to be found in our routines, there’s a big psychological benefit to be found in pushing those boundaries by picking up a new skill.

Compassion, kindness, empathy and sympathy are words lumped together in the big bag of other-orientated emotions. Although these terms can seemingly be used interchangeably when describing an understanding and reciprocity of the emotions of others, there are subtle differences in each of these concepts. I’m going to be exploring what it means to live with a sense of compassion (warning: it gets a little complicated and it’s not as warm and soft as it sounds) and how this can apply to our yoga practice. Digging deep …

A tradition sits on the day of the fullest moon (or Harvest Moon) where farming communities would celebrate the bringing in of a final crop from the fields. A gathering of stores for the upcoming winter and a big old feast to say thanks for the hard season’s labour. The term ‘harvest’ originates from the Old English word hærfest meaning ‘autumn’. It seems fitting to embed these seasonal principles into an autumnally inspired yoga practice. The aim, a sense of emotional balance as we align our movement and thoughts with nature’s seasonality, developing a practice to cultivate from months past and set seeds of intention for days to come.

It’s coming up to four months since finishing my yoga teacher training at State Yoga in Highgate. The whirlwind of asana and the sometimes overwhelming, always fascinating, information dump has settled and there’s a little time to reflect. What did I learn on the way? And where am I now? Clue here, 200 hours is just the start.