Tobi Winkelmann | Modern Yoga & Movement

Yoga is not only the way we move. It's the way we breathe, the way we listen, the way we meet ourselves in each moment. Movement is just one part of the practice, but yoga also lives in the stillness before the movement, in the breath that steadies you, and in the presence you choose even when life feels chaotic. It's meditation, awareness, softness, and strength. It's how you show up for your body, but also how you show up for your life. Stiliness is yoga, movement is yoga, and living with intention is yoga. Everything can become yoga when you meet it with awareness.

I didn't come to yoga looking for anything beyond movement. I wanted to get more mobile, better at the physical side of it. What I didn't expect was how much it would change the way I relate to myself and to life outside the mat.

Before yoga, I rushed through things. Discomfort felt like something to escape, stress felt normal, and pushing harder seemed like the answer to almost everything. I didn't notice how disconnected I was from my own signals. Over time, the practice taught me to pause, to stay a little longer in challenging moments, and to listen instead of override.

I came to yoga for the body, like so many others, chasing flexibility, strength, maybe even a better shape. And yes, that's satisfying. But over time I realized that's just the surface. Long before studios, playlists, and Instagram, yoga was about freedom, about noticing yourself beyond all the doing and performing. The postures were never the goal -they were preparation to breathe, to observe, to sit with yourself, to see clearly. The practice slowly taught me to listen, to stay, to confront patterns I wasn't even aware of. The asanas are powerful, but they're only the doorway.

The hardest pose isn't handstand. It's walking into your first yoga class and not running back out. Yoga doesn't require you to be read. It requires you to show up. A little unsure, a little stiff and definitely a little awkward. That's not a problem, that's your unique starting point. And from there your individual path can unfold and maybe you'll be surprised where you end up.

When I started out I practice a lot with YouTube before I had the courage to go into a yoga class, but one that was for men only.

Yoga is often associated with relaxation, calmness, and switching off. And it can be that. But it's not always like that. Sometimes it's uncomfortable, challenging, and even confronting. It brings your attention to what's actually there, tension in the body, restlessness in the mind, the urge to escape instead of staying present. That's not always pleasant, but it's part of the practice. Because beyond the idea of "feeling good," yoga creates awareness. And that awareness is what allows real change to happen

Yoga is often seen as something that will fix things, make you calmer, happier, more balanced. And while it can support all of that, that’s not really what it’s there for. It doesn’t remove discomfort, solve your problems, or make life easy. It gives you tools to be with what is, physically and mentally. To notice, to pause, to respond instead of react. In that sense, yoga doesn’t change your life for you, it changes how you relate to it.

This is something I’ve been thinking about more in my own teaching. Not as a checklist, but as an ongoing process. Small things like the words you choose, the options you give, the assumptions you don’t make… they shape how a class feels. Not everyone comes into a yoga space with the same background, expectations, or comfort level, so creating a bit more room for choice and different experiences can make a big difference. It doesn’t mean changing everything or losing your style. It just means being a bit more aware of how you guide people through it.

Yoga is not about creating the perfect shape or mastering the most advanced pose. It’s not about what looks good online, perfect alignment, or building a practice that appears flawless from the outside. The real practice begins in the moments that feel messy — when you lose balance, struggle, get frustrated, doubt yourself, and still choose to stay present. Because yoga is not measured by how it looks, but by how deeply it changes the way you experience yourself, your body, your mind, and your life.

Your yoga practice is not necessarily making you a better person if your breath feels steady on the mat, but you notice yourself reacting differently in real life. If you can move through sequences with ease, but still find it hard to stay present in uncomfortable conversations. If discipline shows up strongly in your practice, but feels more fragile in your relationships.

I’ve noticed for myself that asana can sometimes feel like a controlled space, where things make sense, while life outside the mat doesn’t always follow that same order. And that contrast has been quite revealing.

Softness is often treated like the highest expression of yoga but in practice I don’t think it’s that simple there are days where softness feels right and days where it becomes avoidance of effort clarity discomfort or showing up fully yoga is not about staying in one quality all the time it’s about noticing what is actually needed in the moment sometimes softness sometimes structure sometimes intensity what I keep coming back to is not how soft my practice is but how honest it is.

I've lost count of how many times I've been the only man in a yoga room. And I've also lost count of how many guys have told me: "Yoga is too girly for me." What they usually mean is: it's quiet, there's nowhere to hide, and you're forced to feel your body, your breath, and your mind without distraction. Yoga challenged my ego more than any workout ever did. It taught me how to stay calm under pressure, regulate stress instead of numbing it, and be strong without being tense. Being the only man on the mat didn't make me less masculine - avoiding discomfort would have.

Yoga doesn’t disappear when you step off the mat it shows up in how you breathe when things don’t go your way in how you respond when someone triggers you in whether you stay present or check out in difficult moments and in how quickly you react or pause before reacting the real practice is not the posture it’s what you do when life doesn’t feel like practice anymore

Linger in the space between effort and ease, structure and flow, doing and being. We all carry both feminine and masculine qualities within us, and the practice is not to choose one but to learn their rhythm — when to ground and when to soften, when to lead and when to listen. Balance is not fixed, it’s something we return to again and again, in every breath, in every moment.

Should yoga have a goal? Most of us start practicing with one. We want to get stronger, more flexible, learn a handstand, or feel better in our bodies and minds. Goals can be helpful—they give us direction and keep us showing up. But yoga philosophy invites us to look at our relationship with those goals. Are they guiding our practice, or are they defining it? When we're constantly focused on the next achievement, it's easy to miss what's happening right now. Maybe the question isn't whether yoga should have a goal, but whether we can pursue one without becoming attached to the outcome.

Is yoga a workout or a practice? I used to think it had to be one or the other. But the more I teach and the more I move, the more I think that's the wrong question. Yoga can be the most physical thing you do all week — and that's completely valid. It can also be the thing you do to sit with yourself, no intensity, no goals, just presence — and that's equally valid. What I actually believe is that almost any movement can become a yoga practice. A handstand session, a run, even lifting weights.

Learning to let go of control is something I’m still practicing. I’ve always been someone who likes to understand the plan, know what’s coming next, and make sure things work out the way I imagined them. But life has shown me again and again that the best things often happen when I stop trying to force every detail. I’m learning that I can give my best, take action, and still trust that I don’t have to control every outcome. That there is a difference between being intentional and being attached to a specific result. Maybe peace doesn’t come from knowing exactly what will happen next.

When I talk to people and they realize I'm a yoga instructor, I've received multiple reasons and excuses why they have never tried it before. Funnily without me asking if they practice yoga asana. It's like when you tell someone you're vegan and they say they only buy locally sourced meat. Anyways.
Yoga does not need prerequisites. Just start wherever and whoever you are. And see what the practice sparks in you. Maybe its relaxation, maybe it's flexibility or strength, maybe it's more presence or stillness or anything else.

I found yoga by accident and a realised how badly I have trained my body all the years before. I had the desire to become more flexible again. At the time, I had already been meditating for a while, but bringing movement into the picture made everything click. Breath, awareness, and movement suddenly felt deeply connected. Looking back, I'm so grateful I didn't wait until I was interested in the "deeper" parts of yoga. Asana was my doorway, and it led me to so much more than I ever expected. That's why I believe it doesn't matter why you step onto the mat.

In the past, I used to hold on to places, goals, and versions of myself long after they no longer felt right. I thought letting go meant giving up, when in reality it was often the first step toward growth. One of the biggest lessons I've learned is that you're allowed to outgrow what once felt aligned. That doesn't make your past a mistake—it simply means you've changed. Today, I try to spend less time asking, "Who was I trying to become?" and more time asking, "Who am I becoming now?" That question has changed the way I move through life.

I remember sitting at my desk as an engineer, thinking I had figured out what success meant. A good career, a respected job, a high salary. That was the definition of success I had learned to chase. And honestly, there is nothing wrong with wanting those things. Financial security and ambition can be beautiful. But at some point, I started questioning if a successful life is only measured by achievements and income. What about having the freedom to spend time with the people you love? What about waking up excited about your work? Traveling without waiting for the “right moment”?

When I started yoga, I honestly didn't feel like I belonged. I was often one of the only men in the room, and I totally understand why that can feel intimidating. It's easy to convince yourself that yoga isn't for you. That's exactly what I thought at first. I came because I wanted to learn handstands and become more flexible, but I stayed because of everything yoga did for my mind. It made me stronger, calmer, more aware, and taught me how to move through life with a little more presence. If you're a man who's been thinking about trying yoga but keeps putting it off, this is your sign.