The Evolution of Yoga and My Search for New Approaches

When I moved to Berlin in 2009, being a yoga teacher felt like the most unique profession in the world. It was quirky, unconventional, and allowed me to live life entirely on my own terms. I started teaching yoga in my non-furnished living room in Kreuzberg and over time I built a whole school. It wasn’t just a yoga school—it was a reflection of me. My style, which I called ‘Dynamic Mindfulness’, was a creative child of Berlin. It was born out of the city’s unique energy, its magic, its practices of research and experimentation, and it’s deep respect for individuality.  

Dynamic Mindfulness was a blend of my background in Chan Buddhism, my love for music, my interest in politics, and my feminist ideals. It was also shaped by the anatomy and biomechanics I studied through the Axis  Syllabus, as well as the countless inspirational aspects of Berlin itself—its art, its activism, its rawness, and its refusal to conform. It wasn’t just about asanas; it was about creating a space where people could explore movement, stillness, and self-inquiry in a way that felt deeply personal and transformative.  

From the 200-hr yoga teacher training in 2015

Back then, the yoga world felt like a playground for creativity. There was room for individuality, for experimentation, for weaving your own story into your teaching. I didn’t have to fit into a box or follow a script. My classes were as much about questioning societal norms as they were about downward dog. It was a time when being a yoga teacher felt like a radical act—a way to live outside the mainstream, to offer something that wasn’t just a product but a practice, a philosophy, a way of life.  

But over the last 15 years, the yoga world has changed. Dramatically. And so have I. And so has Berlin.  

The Corporate Takeover of Yoga  

25 years ago, when I first started practicing, yoga was a space to turn inward and to connect both with myself and others. And then the platforms arrived—Instagram, YouTube, and a slew of apps promising yoga at your fingertips. Suddenly, yoga wasn’t just a practice; it was an industry.  

The gig economy crept into the yoga world, and being a yoga teacher stopped being a lifestyle choice and became a hustle. Teachers were no longer just teachers; they were influencers, entrepreneurs, and content creators. The pressure to build a brand, to grow a following, to monetize every aspect of your practice  (and your life!) became overwhelming. Yoga studios started to feel more like corporations, with profit margins and marketing strategies taking precedence over the quality of teaching or the depth of the practice.  

I remember the moment I realized how much things had shifted. A young woman came to me interested in my teacher training program. She was in her early twenties, bright and eager, but as we talked, I realized she wasn’t there because she resonated with my style or philosophy. She was there because she saw teacher training as a product—a certificate she could acquire to add to her resume. She had a dozen other options, and she was shopping around for the best deal.  

It wasn’t her fault. That’s just the world we live in now. But it left me questioning my role in all of this. Am I benefiting the people who come to me, or am I just feeding into a system that prioritizes consumption over connection?  

Turning 50 and Feeling the Gap  

This year, I turn 50. It’s a milestone that has made me reflect deeply on my life, my work, and the world around me. I’ve noticed a growing gap between myself and the younger generation of yoga practitioners. The 20-somethings who come to inquire about my training are navigating a very different world than the one I started in. They have endless options, endless information at their fingertips, and endless pressure to succeed in a system that feels increasingly corporate and capitalistic.  

I don’t blame them for wanting to “get something” out of my training. That’s what they’ve been taught to do—to extract value, to optimize their time, to invest in themselves in ways that will pay off. But it’s hard for me to meet them there. I don’t want to sell them a product; I want to share a practice. I want to build a relationship, to guide them in a way that goes beyond the transactional.  

And yet, I find myself wondering: How much of what I’m doing is truly serving them, and how much of it is just perpetuating a system that I’m not sure I believe in anymore?  

Searching for New Approaches  

I’m in a period of questioning now, trying to figure out how to adapt to this new reality without losing the essence of what I do. I still believe in the power of practice, meditation and self-inquiry. I still want to help people connect with themselves, to swim against the tide of consumerism and instant gratification. But I’m not sure the yoga studio or teacher training model is the best way to do that anymore.  

From the Advanced teacher training in 2024

I’m dreaming of new approaches, new ways of working with people that feel less capitalistic and more human. Maybe it’s smaller, more intimate workshops. Maybe it’s educational programs that focus on deep self-exploration rather than certification. Maybe it’s one-on-one mentoring or creating content that challenges people to think critically about their practice and their place in the world.  

Dynamic Mindfulness, my style, was born out of a Berlin that no longer exists—or at least, a Berlin that has changed as much as I have. The city’s magic, its rawness, its refusal to conform, all of that shaped me and my teaching. But Berlin is different now, and so am I. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s time to let my practice evolve, just as I have.  

An Open Question  

To those of you who are still deeply in love with yoga, who find solace and inspiration in your practice, I celebrate you. Yoga is a beautiful, transformative tool, and it has the power to change lives. But I also want to acknowledge those of you who feel disillusioned, who miss the days when yoga felt less like a business and more like a community.  

The contemporary yoga world is complex. It’s a mix of tradition and innovation, of authenticity and commercialization. There’s room for both, but it’s up to us to decide where we fit in. For me, that means questioning the systems I’m a part of and exploring new ways to share what I’ve learned.  

What about you? How do you feel about the changes in the yoga world over the last 15 years? Are you still in love with your practice, or has it lost its spark? How do you navigate the tension between staying true to your values and adapting to a changing world? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Let’s start a conversation about where we’ve been, where we are, and where we’re going.  

Because life has changed. Yoga has changed. Berlin has changed. 

And that’s okay—as long as we keep asking the questions that matter.