This November, the school turns nine.
An anniversary invites a neat account of the years: a beginning, a few milestones, a reassuring sense of progress. My experience of keeping a school going has been less tidy. There have been periods of growth, periods of uncertainty, and decisions I would have preferred never to have to make.
The COVID lockdowns interrupted something at the heart of our work: being together in a room. A yoga school depends on that ordinary meeting between a teacher and a student, and between students who may arrive as strangers and gradually become familiar to one another. Continuing through that time asked us to adapt. It also made the value of being together much clearer.
Losing our Anchorpoint location was another difficult loss. A place becomes more than an address when people have practised there. It holds associations, habits, and a part of the rhythm of their lives. Having poured a tremendous amount of time, energy and precious capital into making the underground location a conducive practice space, I can acknowledge that its closure was necessary, but I can’t pretend it was easy.
Then there are the pressures that attract less attention because they are always there. Singapore is an expensive place to run a small business. Rent, wages and the costs of keeping a space open continue whether a class is full or quiet. At the same time, the pressure to drive class prices down asks schools to provide more for less.
I care about access. I want people to be able to practise. I also care about the conditions in which teaching takes place. A teacher needs time to study, to prepare, and to give attention to the people in front of them. A school needs enough stability to support that work. Finding a balance between affordability and continuity is a question I keep returning to; it does not have a simple, permanent answer.
Yoga has given me a way to stay with questions that cannot be settled immediately. In practice, we learn to notice what is happening, to distinguish effortless effort from stubborn force, and to adjust without abandoning what matters. I do not always manage this gracefully in the work of running a school. But it remains useful to return to.
The most encouraging part of these nine years has been the people. Teachers have brought their knowledge and care. Students have brought their willingness to learn. A school takes its character from these repeated encounters: how we respond when someone struggles, how patiently we explain, how much room we make for another person to find their own way.
None of that can be claimed by a founder alone. I can start a school, make decisions, and take responsibility for keeping it open. Its life comes from everyone who chooses to be part of it.
That is what I want to recognise on our ninth birthday. I am grateful that the school is still here, still teaching, and still giving people a place to practise together. I am grateful, too, that its future remains open. There are things to improve and things to discover as we move towards our tenth anniversary.
On Sunday 1 November, we will celebrate at Pagoda Street, with a special two-hour class taught by me from 8:45–10:45am in Studio 1 (2 credits) and classes with our teachers. From 7:30–8:30pm, we will gather for kirtan, followed by dinner and time with the community. I hope the day gives us a chance to practise, to meet, and to enjoy being together.
For our ninth anniversary, everything is 15% off through Sunday 1 November. Use NPSOYIS9 at checkout; the code is non-stackable. If you would like to continue your practice with us, choose your next class package here.
Whether you have been with us from the beginning or have only recently found the school, thank you. Your presence has mattered. I look forward to the next year with you.
With Joy in the Body and Peace in the Heart,
Priyan