Some Like It Hot

Before you leave this space, take a moment to remember that your body carries more than just today. It carries stories, lineages, survival, and joy.

You come from people who rested when they could, moved when they had to,

and dreamed even when it felt impossible.

Let this practice be an offering— not something you earned, not something you pushed for— but something you allowed.

As you step back into the world, move gently. Your presence is enough. Your breath is medicine. And your body is not a problem to be fixed—it is a home.

— Kyanna McP., Pure Yoga Teacher, Closing Reflection from the Heart

My primary consideration, when it comes to picking a studio, is distance. Pure Yoga is a four-block walk from my home—the path of least resistance, which during the coldest months allows me to overcome any hesitation about going to class (most of the time). But over the years it has become more than convenient. It has become a place of quiet refuge, a place where I can centre myself, find stillness, and discover solace from the ups and downs of my often erratic life. Sometimes I go alone, other times with friends, but there are always people I know there. It is a community of practice, a spiritual space, very much like the 12-Step rooms—people coming together to connect to themselves, to others, and to the world around them.

Last night was cold. I trudge through the snow to the door that leads to the second-floor studio overlooking Bank Street. I enter and lay my mat upon the floor, grab two blocks from the windowsill and set them aside along with my water bottle and towel. The heat of the room, around thirty-two degrees, hits like a wall of fire reacting with my cold skin. My breath warms, the sensation rolling back through my throat into my lungs. I lie flat on my back, stretch my whole body long, then lift my hands toward my forehead, my thumbs touching my brow—not as a formal mudra but as a gesture of attention, drawing awareness inward to the space behind the eyes. I focus on breathing and the rise and fall of my stomach. I pass through a body scan, stopping along the way to fully experience any aches or sensations. Finally, I allow my thoughts to wander through what I am grateful for. This is how I begin each practice.

The Flow class begins. The room is full. Music plays in the background, helping my scattered mind settle into the teacher’s voice. I perspire until my clothes are drenched. But the whole experience is practice in being present, connecting to my body through movement. I let go of the strain and discomfort of the postures and simply am. No thoughts. No past. No future. Just now.

Modern hot yoga culture often markets transformation, the “yoga body,” achievement earned through sweat. I see nothing intrinsically wrong with that, and many of my fellow yogis come for exactly that reason. But yoga can be so much more, and Kyanna’s reflection offers a different perspective. The practice as an offering, not an accomplishment. The body as a home, not a problem requiring a solution. The heated room becomes a space for homecoming, returning to embodied awareness never actually lost, only temporarily forgotten.

Still, I’ve learned the hard way that heat masks fatigue, making overexertion seductively easy. The warmth can also lower blood pressure unexpectedly, and dehydration creeps in faster than we realize. There is more than once I have exerted myself to a dizzying point of almost losing consciousness. Daily practice demands the wisdom to know when to rest. Hydration matters. Listening to our body matters more.

At the top of the hour the movements slow. My racing heart begins to subside. I feel different. In those final minutes of stillness, lying on the mat, I am engaged with the energy of everyone in the room. Connected to every part of my body, I sense the threshold where I end and the rest of existence begins—and realize it is an illusion. I am not separate. I am not alone. My past and my future merge into the now. The stress of the day is gone, replaced with calm serenity. I am alive. I am home. And then I step back out into the cold, carrying myself with me.

Pure Yoga Centretown offers a Community Flow on Friday nights at 7:30pm, open to all, with a minimum donation of ten dollars that goes to a local charity. Sign up through their app.