What My Holiday Taught Me About Yoga (Without Doing Any Yoga)

I’ve just spent ten days in Croatia. I walked miles, cycled, swam in the sea, climbed hundreds of steps, read several books, ate extremely well and did hardly any yoga.

It was brilliant for my yoga.

There. I said it.

I teach yoga for a living. I love yoga. I practise yoga. I read about yoga. I plan yoga classes. I talk about yoga. I think about yoga.

Sometimes I need to stop doing bloody yoga.

Because there’s an occupational hazard to teaching something you love. It becomes work.

You’re halfway through a lovely stretch and a little voice in your head says, Ooh, this would work well on Thursday.

You hear something interesting and immediately think, There's a newsletter in that.

You stop experiencing things and start mentally filing them.

So I went on holiday and stopped.

Except, of course, I didn't stop moving at all.

We need to stop thinking exercise only counts when we mean to do it

We walked miles.

Around Dubrovnik’s city walls. Through old towns. Around Plitvice Lakes. Up and down endless stone steps.

We hired bikes. We swam. We carried bags. We wandered around looking for somewhere to eat and invariably walked twice as far as necessary.

And none of it was a workout.

This is something I think we've got completely backwards.

We've turned movement into something that needs special clothes, a designated hour and preferably a watch congratulating us afterwards.

Your body doesn't care.

Walking to the shops counts. Carrying your suitcase counts. Taking the stairs counts. Cycling somewhere because you need to get there counts.

Movement is movement.

Yoga is great. It is not a substitute for using your body all day.

Holidays make you pay attention

At home I can walk down a familiar road and barely see it.

Put me in Croatia and suddenly I want to know EVERYTHING.

Why are there so many cyclists in Rovinj?

How old is that building?

Where does that path go?

Why is everyone driving like that?

And why, in 2026, am I sitting next to someone smoking a cigarette indoors?

I notice things because I'm somewhere new.

That's mindfulness without the incense.

You don't need to sit cross-legged and solemnly observe the present moment. Get interested in what's going on around you.

Curiosity makes you pay attention.

Your body needs to do things that aren't yoga

I love yoga. Obviously.

But yoga makes you good at doing yoga.

My holiday involved steep steps, uneven paths, rough cycle tracks, swimming, carrying luggage, standing around waiting for ferries and walking far further than I'd planned because Google Maps and I had differing opinions about what constituted a road.

That's useful movement.

Bodies need variety.

They need to lift things. Carry things. Climb things. Balance. Walk. Squat. Get down. Get back up.

Doing another beautifully controlled Warrior II isn't going to cover all the bases.

This is one of the biggest things I'm bringing back from my holiday: I want more ordinary movement in my life.

Things don't go to plan. Good.

When it comes to work, I like a plan.

Actually, I love a plan. Lists, schedules, things booked, things organised, knowing exactly what needs to happen next.

On holiday, I am the polar opposite.

We’ll work it out. We’ll see where we end up. We’ll find somewhere to eat. If the road looks interesting, we’ll take it.

Things go wrong. Good.

Ferries leave when ferries leave. Roads disappear. Weather changes. Restaurants are shut. You take a wrong turn and discover somewhere better.

And somehow I’m absolutely fine with all of it.

Maybe because on holiday I don’t expect everything to go to plan.

That’s a useful thing to remember when I get back to work — and when I get on my yoga mat.

Because your body doesn’t follow the plan either.

Some days you feel strong. Some days you don’t. Some days your balance is brilliant. Some days Tree Pose makes you look as though you’ve been drinking since breakfast.

Work with the body you’ve actually got that day.

Change the plan.

That’s yoga.

Sitting around is underrated

I read a lot on holiday.

I sat beside the sea with a book and did absolutely nothing useful.

On one occasion I was sitting peacefully on a stone jetty when a huge wave came over the top and completely soaked me and my book.

So much for serenity.

But I sat.

No meditation timer. No breathing technique. No attempt to improve myself.

I read my book.

We've become very good at turning rest into another task.

Meditate for ten minutes. Practise gratitude. Do your breathing exercises. Listen to a podcast about how to relax more effectively.

Sometimes just sit down.

Look up

This one sounds ridiculously obvious.

Look up.

At the sea. At buildings. At trees. At people. At the sky.

I stood in places that have been there for seventeen hundred years. I looked across the Adriatic. I walked beside waterfalls. I watched sunsets.

And all the stuff that fills my head at home got smaller.

The email.

The thing I haven't finished.

The class I haven't planned.

The irritating thing somebody said three days ago that I am still conducting imaginary arguments about in the shower.

The world is enormous.

Most of the stuff occupying our heads isn't.

That's worth remembering.

And I stopped being a yoga teacher

This was the big one.

For ten days nobody needed me to teach them anything.

I wasn't demonstrating poses. I wasn't watching knees. I wasn't planning tomorrow's class. I wasn't wondering whether people would understand what I meant by something.

I wasn't trying to turn every experience into a lesson.

Well. Apart from the fact that I've now turned the entire holiday into a blog post.

Clearly there's still work to do.

But I came home wanting to teach again.

That's the point.

We don't need to squeeze more yoga into every available corner of our lives.

Yoga is supposed to make us better at living our lives.

So walk somewhere.

Carry your own bag.

Get on a bike.

Swim in the sea.

Read a book.

Take the stairs.

Get lost.

Change the plan.

Sit around doing absolutely nothing.

Look up.

And every now and then, leave your yoga mat at home.

Your yoga will survive.

It might even be better when you come back.