Practice needs a home

The Journal · Community · Editorial N° 5

You can learn yoga almost anywhere now. On an app, on a screen, in a hotel room at six in the morning. And still, something happens in a room full of people breathing together that does not happen alone.

I have practised on my own for half of my life. In an ashram, in tiny apartments, on retreat, on the road. I love it. But if I am honest, the moments that changed me most did not happen when I was alone. They happened in rooms. In a circle of women on a full-moon night. In a class where the person next to me started crying in pigeon pose and nobody looked away. In the silence after the last Om, when twenty strangers suddenly did not feel like strangers anymore.

This editorial is about that. About practice, about community, and about why I believe practice needs a home.

Practice is the art of coming back

Patañjali defines practice in a way that still surprises my students:

tatra sthitau yatno ’bhyāsaḥ
Practice is the effort to remain established there.

Patañjali, Yoga Sūtra 1.13 (own rendering)

Not the effort to get somewhere new. The effort to stay, and when we drift away, to come back. That is the whole secret. Knowing what to do is rarely the problem. Most of us know we would feel better if we breathed, moved and sat more. The problem is coming back. On the rainy Tuesday. After the hard week. When nobody is watching.

And this is where a room changes everything. A place you know. A time that is held for you. A teacher who notices when you have not been there for a while. A face at the door who says your name. These are not extras. They are the scaffolding that turns good intentions into practice.

The company of truth

The yogic traditions have always known this. In Sanskrit, the word is satsaṅga: the company of truth, of what is real. In his Bhaja Govindam, Śaṅkarācārya describes it as the very first step on the whole path:

satsaṅgatve nissaṅgatvaṃ nissaṅgatve nirmohatvam
nirmohatve niścalatattvaṃ niścalatattve jīvanmuktiḥ

From good company comes non-attachment. From non-attachment, freedom from delusion. From freedom from delusion, a mind established in truth. And from that, liberation in this very life.

Śaṅkarācārya, Bhaja Govindam, v. 9 (own rendering)

Look at where the chain begins. Not with a perfect posture or a heroic discipline. With the people you surround yourself with. Liberation, says one of India’s greatest philosophers, starts with good company.

I find this deeply relieving. It means we are not supposed to do this alone. We were never meant to.

A practice for the whole human

When I founded ALKEMY, I did not want a place that only teaches how to move a body into shapes. The name says it: alchemy is the old art of transformation, of turning lead into gold. In human terms, that means meeting all of you. Body, breath, emotion, mind, and whatever we want to call the part of us that knows.

So the practice there is deliberately wide. Some days you need fire: a strong dynamic Flow that leaves you sweaty and clear. Some days you need earth: a slow & deep practice where nothing is asked of you except to stay. Some days the body wants to dance until the head goes quiet. Some days what you need is a gong, a breath practice, a cup of cacao and a circle of women under a full moon.

None of this is random. In the Tantric view, there is no hierarchy between the stillness of meditation and the wildness of dance. It is all śakti, the same living power, moving in different forms. A holistic practice is not one that does everything. It is one that knows which medicine is needed today.

Two rooms in Vienna

Today ALKEMY lives in two spaces in Vienna, each with its own character.

ALKEMY Soul Studio in the 4th district is the everyday home. Up to forty classes a week, from dynamic flows to restorative Yin and sound healing, with a team of teachers I trust deeply. It is the place for the rhythm of a practice: the class you go to every week, the people you start to recognise, the tea afterwards.

ALKEMY Ritual Studio in the 2nd district is the place for depth. A high ceiling room with golden arches that make every evening feel like a ceremony. Classes, yes, but also the rituals, the circles, the masterclasses and the trainings of ALKEMY Akademy. This is where I mostly teach when I am in Vienna, and where most of the full-moon circles and cacao ceremonies happen.

What community is not

Let me be clear about one thing, because the word has been overused. Community is not a brand vibe. It is not everyone being nice all the time, and it is certainly not having to fit in.

Real community, in my experience, is much simpler and much more demanding. It is people showing up for each other repeatedly. It is being seen on the days you would rather hide. It is the permission to be a beginner in front of others, and the honour of witnessing someone else’s breakthrough. It is a place where you are allowed to arrive exactly as you are, and where, over time, you become more of who you are.

A small practice

If you live in Vienna, or if you have your own place to practise wherever you are, try this for one month:

• Choose one class, one time, one place. Commit to it for four weeks.
• Arrive ten minutes early. Sit for a moment before the class begins. Let the room receive you.
• Stay for the tea afterwards, even if it is just five minutes.
• Learn one name. Say it next time.
• At the end of the month, notice: what changed in your practice when you stopped doing it alone?

Practice is personal. It was never meant to be private.

See you in the room,
Alexia

References

• Patañjali, Yoga Sūtra 1.13, on abhyāsa
• Śaṅkarācārya, Bhaja Govindam (Moha Mudgara), verse 9