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On practicing yoga through the colder seasons
The air is changing.
In Belgium, that usually means grey skies, wet pavements, and a stack of umbrellas drying by the door. The days get shorter, the wind feels sharper on the bike, and suddenly the idea of leaving the house in the evening feels… big.
This is the time of year when we naturally turn inward. Nature slows down. Trees let go of their leaves. The light softens. We feel that same invitation in our own bodies and minds: rest more, move a little slower, reflect.
But there is a difference between turning inward and shutting down.
Between true rest and slowly sinking into the sofa for weeks.
Your yoga practice can help you find that difference.
When it’s dark and rainy outside, staying home in soft clothes with a warm drink is incredibly tempting. Sometimes that is exactly what you need. But if every evening becomes that, something else starts to happen:
We tell ourselves, “I’ll go back to practice when it’s lighter,” or “when work calms down,” or “when I have more energy.”
But often, the energy we are waiting for is the energy that practice itself gives.
Turning inward is not about hiding from the world. It is about staying connected to yourself in a different way. Yoga is one of the most practical tools for that.
In autumn and winter, our systems work a little harder. Less daylight, more time indoors, more screens, more stress around the end of the year. All of this has an effect on how we feel.
A regular practice can:
Think of your mat as a small island in the middle of busy Antwerp days. Outside, the traffic, the drizzle, the to-do lists. Inside the shala, one clear space where you can arrive, move, breathe, and listen.
In these seasons, your practice does not have to be intense or “strong.” It does not have to look like it does in summer. It might shift, and that is completely okay.
An autumn/winter practice can be:
Turning inward through practice means you stay present with yourself: with fatigue, with tension, with thoughts that don’t stop. You stay with it, instead of running away from it into distraction.
This is something many students share:
“I was so close to cancelling. I felt exhausted. But I came anyway and now I feel lighter.”
It is perfectly normal to hesitate. On a rainy night, cycling to the studio is not always appealing. Your bed or sofa will call your name.
You don’t have to arrive full of energy or motivation. You don’t have to be in a good mood. You don’t even have to be able to touch your toes.
All you really need is the willingness to show up as you are.
The practice will meet you there.
Some days that might mean sweating a little and feeling your heart beat. Other days it will mean lying over a bolster, wrapped in a blanket, and simply breathing. Both are valuable.
In rainy Antwerp, we are good at adapting: we put on another layer, we grab the right shoes, we move through the weather anyway. Your yoga practice can be another one of those layers.
Coming to class is not only about the teacher or the sequence. It is also about the feeling of being in a room with others who made the same choice: to take care of themselves in a simple, honest way.
That sense of community can be a real support when days feel heavy.
You do not need a perfect schedule. You do not need to come every day. Start with something you can truly keep.
For example:
Consistency in small doses is more powerful than big plans that never happen.
The darker months invite you to listen more closely:
Your practice gives you a place to explore these questions without pressure. On the mat, everything slows down just enough for you to feel:
This is what “turning inward” really is: staying honest, awake, and kind with yourself. Not escaping life, but meeting it with a little more clarity and steadiness.
As the rain taps against the windows and the air cools, you will be invited again and again to choose:
Sofa or mat.
Numbing or noticing.
Shutting down or gently turning inward.
There is room for cosy evenings and series and blankets. There is also room for rolling out your mat, walking or cycling to the studio, and giving yourself that hour of breath and movement.
You don’t have to do it perfectly.
You just have to keep coming back.
So as autumn deepens and winter approaches, consider this your reminder: your practice is there for you. In every season. In every mood. In every kind of weather.
You are always welcome here at AntwerpYoga, exactly as you are.
See you on the mat for your urban exhale...
Namas-té,
Ine
