New Spaces, Same Beautiful Practice

At the start of May, my yoga classes at The Pod will be moving into new homes.

Saturday mornings will be held at Little Harrowden Village Hall, and Tuesday evenings will move to Isham Village Hall.

There is something about returning to the same room each week that becomes part of the rhythm. The familiarity of walking through the same door, placing your mat in your usual spot, and recognising the small details without needing to think about them. These things quietly support us.

So if this feels like a shift, you’re not imagining it. I have been teaching from The Pod for three years now, so it feels like a huge change to me as well! And yet, yoga teaches us something about this. We are always moving between what is known and what is not yet known. Between holding on and letting go. Between the comfort of what has been, and the quiet invitation of what is coming next.

These new spaces have been chosen with so much care. Each one is calm, spacious, and welcoming, with room to breathe, move, and arrive and leave without a rush. They offer us a different container, but the intention remains unchanged.

The practice itself does not move. It is still the same gentle, grounding space. A place to soften at the start or end of the day. To notice the breath. To come back into the body. To be, just as you are.

For some of you, these changes may feel straightforward. For others, they may shift what feels possible. If you’ve been walking to class or fitting it neatly into your week, I understand that this may ask something different of you. You are always welcome, wherever you find yourself in that. And if you do come along to these new spaces, I think you’ll find they hold us very well.

For those of you who will be driving, Little Harrowden has a car park at the back of the venue, and plenty of parking out the front of the building on Main Street. I have been assured that parking on the street is never an issue. Likewise, for Isham, we can park just outside the church and the village hall without concern.

There is something quietly beautiful about beginning again. Not from scratch, but from experience. Carrying what we have built together into a new place, and allowing it to unfold there in its own way. Same practice. Same intention. Just a new room, waiting to hold us.