What happens when yoga meets the church? Drawing on 30 years of experience, I reflect on the tension, the misunderstandings, and the common ground between spiritual practice and Christian faith.

I went to India hoping it would change me — not into someone different, but into someone a little more solid, a little more true. Now I’m home, back in my usual routine, and I can’t quite point to what’s different. And yet something is. Fear is still there, but it no longer feels like a full stop. So I find myself asking: have I changed?

During a seven-week journey through India, I began to notice small moments that felt strangely meaningful—almost like signs. From a peacock outside an ashram window to a necklace I wore across the country, and a chance meeting back in the UK, each moment seemed to carry its own quiet message. This is a reflection on coincidence, meaning, and how we choose to see the world.

We tell ourselves we need more — more savings, more security, more for the future. But what if the real question isn’t how much we have, but why we feel it’s not enough?

I travelled to Amma’s ashram hoping her embrace might change something in me. But when the moment came, it felt… surprisingly ordinary. And that realisation taught me something far more valuable than I expected.

I practise Ashtanga yoga, a set sequence of postures once believed to be ancient, but actually shaped by modern influences. At first, I thought the magic was in the system itself — the sequence, the poses. But the real magic lies in the commitment to your own practice: showing up, breathing through the hard moments, and slowly transforming over time. Yoga helps you come home to yourself — and that, to me, is true magic.