There are things you start by chance and then can't stop.
Yoga is one of them for me.
It was 2001. I was living on Smögen. It's hard to explain what it does to you, to live by the sea for an extended period of time — there's something about life there, the tide, the noise, the constant reminder that the world is much bigger and much calmer than the head you live in. Maybe it was that feeling that made me seek out a room and start moving in a way I'd never really done before. Completely present. Just my body, my breath, and a rug on the floor.
I don't know if I understood what yoga was that day. But I understood that it was something I needed.
It's Moving Monday — Body Joy Day — and this is a post about movement. Not the kind measured in steps or heart rate. The kind that goes inward.
Pregnancy yoga — the first time the body was allowed to decide
A few years later, in 2003, I was expecting a baby. My son was born in February 2004, and during the pregnancy I attended Iyengar-based pregnancy yoga at Gothenburg Yogacenter.
Iyengar yoga is a form founded by Indian master BKS Iyengar, and it is known for its precision and systematic approach to the body. Iyengar yoga focuses on correct alignment, correct movement, and support for the body when needed. Teachers teach students how to actually perform the poses, so that no one is left unsure of what to do.
Founder BKS Iyengar developed the use of props — pillows, bolsters, straps, and blocks — to properly support and challenge the body. Iyengar yoga teachers are especially well-trained in how to use these to assist and support a pregnant woman through all stages of pregnancy.
What I remember from those hours is not the positions. It's the feeling of the room. Stepping into a room where the body — with all it was becoming, how big and full of life it was — was not a problem to solve. It was something to be met with respect. It's one of the warmest memories I have from that period. And it planted a seed for something that's still growing.
Research shows that modified Iyengar yoga during pregnancy significantly reduces anxiety and labor pain. That's right.
I didn't think anything of it at the time. I went there because it felt right. Sometimes that's reason enough.
The history of yoga — further back than we think
Before we continue my story — let's zoom out a lot.
The roots of yoga date back to 3,000 BC. Archaeological excavations in northern India have found the remains of the cities of Mohenjo Daro and Harappa.
— and with them the earliest images of what we recognize today as yoga positions. Figures in deep meditation. Sitting in lotus. Eyes half-closed.
It wasn't fitness. It wasn't wellness in the modern sense. It was a technology for consciousness.
During the period in yoga's history known as Vedic yoga, it was used primarily as a technique to keep the mind focused during rituals.
Yoga and spirituality were not separate things — they were the same thing, expressed in body and breath and presence.
Over time, the systems were refined. The Vedic texts became the Upanishads. And around 400 AD, the philosopher Patanjali summarized it all in the Yoga Suttas — 196 short aphorisms about what yoga really is. Interestingly, hardly any of them are about postures. Yoga is defined by Patanjali as chitta vritti nirodhah — stilling the movements of the mind. Asanas, the physical postures, are only one of eight limbs. One in eight. It's easy to forget that when you step into a modern studio and try to get your legs straight.
The eight limbs are: Yama (ethics towards others), Niyama (ethics towards oneself), Asana (body), Pranayama (breathing), Pratyahara (turning the mind inward), Dharana (concentration), Dhyana (meditation), and Samadhi (oneness, enlightenment). Most modern yoga classes touch on little more than number three.
That doesn't mean it's wrong, but it does give perspective.
How yoga reached Sweden
In 1949, an Indian yogi named Shyam Sundar Goswami came to Sweden in connection with Lingiaden, a major competition and exhibition organized by the Swedish Gymnastics Association.
It was an early seed, but it took decades for the roots to really take hold.
In 1972, the Danish yogi Swami Janakananda founded Håå Kursgård in Småland, where Kriya Yoga was taught. And in 1982, Swami Omananda, together with Swami Nirvikalpananda, founded Satyananda Yogacenter in Stockholm and Uppsala — the same year that Yogi Bhajan came to Sweden and introduced Kundalini yoga.
During the 90s, interest exploded. Yoga teacher training courses, yoga centers, retreats. When I stepped into Smögen in 2001, yoga was becoming visible in Sweden, but not mainstream yet. Just niche enough to still feel like something unique.
Today, yoga is on every street corner in every city. It's fantastic. And sometimes a bit of a shame — not because it's become accessible, but because it's sometimes been watered down. Reduced to just the physical, just the aesthetic. But the deeper current remains, for those who seek it.
Ängsbacka — the week that changed everything
Around 2008 or 2009 — my memory is a bit shamelessly blurry on the exact dates — my partner, I and my son went to Molkom in Värmland. To Ängsbacka. A yoga festival that lasted seven days, from early morning to late evening.
It's hard to explain Ängsbacka to someone who hasn't been there. It's a training center and retreat center that has been located in the forests of Värmland since the 1980s, and it attracts a kind of people who have decided to take the inside as seriously as the outside. Not in a self-absorbed way — quite the opposite. These are places that those who are curious about themselves will find sooner or later.
Seven days of yoga from all directions. Ashtanga in the morning, while the fog still lay over the forest. Restorative forms in the afternoons. Dance disciplines, breathing work, forms I didn't even know existed. We tried everything. The body got tired and opened up in turns.
And one of those afternoons it was Yin.
I didn't know much about Yin before. But the teacher — the yogi who introduced the form to Sweden — had a presence in the room that was hard to ignore. Not charismatic in a prominent way. Quite the opposite. Quiet. Grounded. As if they lived what they were teaching.
What we had to do was simple in its form and deeply unpleasant in its effect. Hold. Just hold. One position for four, five minutes. Let the body meet itself in depth without escaping.
I was not prepared for what awaited.
What is actually Yin yoga?
Yin Yoga was developed by martial arts expert and Taoist yoga instructor Paulie Zink in the late 1970s. Zink's yoga was initially called "Yin and Yang Yoga," but was later shortened. It consisted of a blend of Hatha Yoga postures, Taoist disciplines, and lessons learned from his own experiences.
Yin Yoga was further developed by Paul Grilley and Sarah Powers. Grilley studied yoga with Paulie Zink and drew on his anatomy studies and the Japanese researcher Hiroshi Motoyama, who had done extensive research on how qi—life force—flows through the body’s meridians. Grilley emphasized relaxing poses to open up these meridians. Sarah Powers then brought Buddhist psychology into the teaching.
In Sweden, Magdalena Mecweld was the pioneer who held one of the first Yin yoga teacher training courses in Swedish in 2013. Her book Stay in shape with yin yoga was published in 2012 and became a landmark.
But what is actually happening in the body during Yin? Why does it feel so different?
It's about what you achieve — and what you can't achieve in any other way.
Yang yoga — what we usually think of as yoga, with flows and power and moving sequences — works the muscles. Strengthens them, stretches them, activates them. It's necessary. It's good. But muscles aren't everything.
The body also contains connective tissue — fascia — which runs like an invisible web around and through everything. Around every muscle, every organ, every nerve. And connective tissue doesn't respond to rapid, dynamic movement. It responds to time. To sustained, gentle strain. That's what Yin provides.
Three to five minutes in a position. The muscles are given time to relax — and underneath them you reach deeper. Into joint capsules, ligaments, fascia. It's not always comfortable. But it's rarely unpleasant in a harmful way. It's more like encountering a part of the body you usually rush past.
What the research actually says
For a long time, fascia was considered passive padding — a biological padding that you cut away in the operating room to get to the “important.” As recently as the 1990s, it was barely given a thought in medical education.
It turns out that it was one of the most costly mistakes in modern medicine.
Fascia has six times more sensory neurons than any other tissue in the body, except for the skin. It is a huge sensory organ, crucial for proprioception — spatial awareness — and interoception, internal bodily awareness.
New research even suggests that fascia has its own communication system that functions independently of the nervous system — via vibration, crystallinity, and electricity.
Fascia is now one of the most studied areas in modern movement research. And one practice that consistently features in fascia-focused studies is Yin Yoga — because it applies gentle, sustained tension to the connective tissue, which is exactly what fascia responds to at a cellular level.
Holding Yin positions activates the parasympathetic nervous system, promoting relaxation and stress reduction. Fascia can gradually lengthen, release adhesions, and improve tissue hydration — restoring mobility and flexibility.
A study published in the Journal of Bodywork and Movement Therapies found that controlled, gentle movements in yoga reduced inflammation and improved circulation in the fascia, which reduced pain and promoted healing.
What the ancients knew intuitively — that slow, gentle movement heals in a way that intense exercise never can — is now being proven in laboratories. It's kind of funny. And quite comforting.
Kundalini— and the name I was given
Yoga is not a form. It is an umbrella for many traditions, and they are no more similar to each other than salsa and a minuet are similar to each other — even though both are called dances.
Kundalini yoga is one of the forms I explored. And it was the one that gave me a name.
On March 25, 2014, I received an email from Nirinjan Kaur, Director of Spiritual Names at 3HO — Healthy, Happy, Holy Organization, the organization founded by Yogi Bhajan,the Indian-American master who introduced Kundalini yoga to the West during the 1960s and 70s.
The email was addressed to me — and it gave me a new name.
Sukh Nidhan Kaur.
The email said, verbatim:
“"You have been blessed to live as Sukh Nidhan Kaur, the Princess/Lioness of God who finds the wealth of peace within herself. Sukh means one who is filled with peace. Nidhan is treasure. Kaur is a name that all women receive — the Princess/Lioness of God who walks with grace and strength throughout her life."”
I read it several times.
The lioness who carries the treasure of peace.
It's one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever said to me. And the strangest thing is that it came from an organization on the other side of the globe, based on nothing more than my date of birth and a numerological calculation and a few things I'd told you.
Historically, spiritual names were personally assigned by Yogi Bhajan. He trained Nirinjan Kaur to take over that role after his passing in 2004. Today, names are assigned by 3HO's Spiritual Names division, led by Nirinjan Kaur who studied the methodology personally under Yogi Bhajan for over 30 years. The names are based on birthday and numerology and are drawn from many traditions and languages, including Gurbani — the texts of the Sikh holy scripture Siri Guru Granth Sahib.
Yogi Bhajan spoke of the soul choosing between fate and destiny. A spiritual name illuminates that choice—it reveals both your light and your shadow.
Kaur — which all women in the tradition bear — translates to “princess” or “lioness of God” and carries with it courage and grace. Singh, the men’s name, has a similar meaning: “lion of God.”.
What is truly fascinating about the system is the idea of naad — the universal inner sound stream. One of the greatest benefits of using a spiritual name is the physical effect that occurs when you — or others — pronounce it. The words are made up of mantric sounds that stimulate the body’s energy meridians when pronounced. This actually affects brain activity.
I don't know if I fully believe all the layers of it. But I know that something happens when I hear my name. Something that reminds me of who I am at my best.
Can you still get a spiritual name?
Yes. 3HO is still accepting applications through spiritual-names.org. The process is simple: fill out a form with your date of birth and personal information. Using Yogi Bhajan's numerology system, Nirinjan Kaur will determine your name and send it to you via email.
It is encouraged to make a voluntary donation in connection with the application.
It is recommended that you feel it is right for you. It should not be taken lightly or sought just because it seems cool. But when you feel inspired in your own heart — then you are ready.
Yasuragi — yoga in Japanese silence
In 2024 I ended up at Yasuragi.
Yasuragi is a Japanese-inspired spa hotel on Hasseludden in Nacka, 20 minutes from Stockholm city.
It won the “Sweden's Best Hotel Spa” award at the World Spa Awards 2024 for the third year in a row.
What's special about Yasuragi is that yoga isn't an add-on — it's built into the place. During the day, a wide range of activities are offered, including yoga, meditation, do in and qigong,
and in Japanese baths, lounges and dojos, there is a total ban on photography and mobile phones.
The last point is not a triviality. That's the whole point.
To put on a yukata — the Japanese cotton robe — and enter a room without phones, without documentation, without the constant need to make the experience meaningful — it’s a form of freedom that has become rare. The yoga class at Yasuragi wasn’t the most advanced I’ve ever taken. But the atmosphere was a lesson in itself. Silent presence. Collective introspection. The ocean outside the windows.
It is possible that yoga always works best when the environment allows one to forget oneself for a moment.
Why Moving Monday and yoga go together
At Amaelle, Monday is a day of body joy. Not of performance. Not of training in the traditional sense — but of movement that comes from within. The one who chooses form according to how the body actually feels today, not according to a schedule that was written last Thursday.
Yoga, in its many forms, is the best expression of that that I know.
Iyengar pregnancy yoga taught me that a changing body deserves respect, not control.
Ängsbacka taught me that there are a hundred ways to move towards oneself, and that the best way that day may be the calmest.
Kundalini gave me a name to live up to.
Yasuragi reminded me that silence is not the absence of anything—it is the presence of everything.
Yin yoga, which has become my favorite, teaches me one thing over and over again: stay. Don't run away from the unpleasant. Breathe through it. Let your body do its work.
We live in a time that rewards speed, output and visibility.
Yoga, at its best, is the exact opposite. It is the practice of becoming still enough to hear what the body actually needs.
It's not magical.
It's actually quite simple.
And that's exactly why it works, time after time, year after year, form after form.
Smögen 2001. Gothenburg 2003. Ängsbacka 2008. March 25, 2014. Yasuragi 2024.
Same movement, all the way home.
– Mary
