When I decided to host a Nude Yoga class in my studio in Nedlands, Australia, I chuckled because one of the students thought we were doing Power Vinyasa naked. I said, “Do you really think we’d be doing a 3-legged down-dog tonight?”

The thought of splitting your legs apart without undies, without my Lululemon gear, was out of the ordinary. But whenever we hear of yoga coupled with a group of people getting naked – there’s buzz. Huge buzz.

We sat with our mats facing in, wearing sarongs – at this stage, clothed. It was freeing to see our teacher Rosie Rees in her sarong, not tied up, not buttoned, but just on her. Against the candlelit room, I could see the shadows created by her curves. She was completely at ease.

I wondered how the rest of us would undress. Were we meant to take our clothes off now? And that song – you know?

“We don’t have to take our clothes off to have a good time, oh, no”

Maybe I should step up my game and take the first move? No. My nerves got the better of me. And instead, I waited for it all to unfold.

Rosie asked us to caress our skin, our bones, and our body, just like how we would like to be loved. I slowly massaged my feet, my thighs, my belly, my breasts, my arms, my neck. A meditation teacher had told me of the benefits of a daily practice of self-massage but I never thought of actually performing it.

I made an offering of undivided attention to my own body, getting through my deepest layers, and when I felt ready, I took off my clothes.

All the assumptions I made:

  • It’s going to be so weird;
  • Everyone’s going to stare;
  • The word ‘vagina’ is never going to be the same;
  • They’re all going to see my imperfections;
  • We’re going to have to do that awkward partner exercise when we stare into each other’s eyes (and boobs);
  • We’re not doing any 3-legged Downward Dogs;
  • She’s going to know I have cellulite;

were invalid.

The practice was sensual. It was a combination of Kundalini and Yin Yoga where we would often build up the energy inside us, and then let it go. The yoga I know and teach to my students suddenly had an added dimension to it.

I admired the unclothed bodies next to me – their shapes, their sizes, and their marks. No one was better or more beautiful than another.

Social media turned into a popularity contest. The fitter you are, the bigger your boobs, the smaller your belly, the better you are. And here we were in a safe place where we weren’t comparing our poses, the number of likes, or the number of followers.

Nude Yoga proved to be a practice where the ‘getting nude and doing yoga’ itself came to light as secondary to the practice of self-acceptance and self-love.


Enjoyed reading this article? Consider supporting us on Patreon. $2 donation will allow us to publish many more amazing articles about yoga and mindfulness.

Dear readers - we are beyond excited that our articles resonate with so many of you. Our mission of advancing free education, critical thinking, and thoughtful journalism has never been more on fire.

As an independent, women-led magazine, we rely heavily on the generosity of people like you to make those conversations keep going. 

That's why we're asking you to become our Patron today. Every month, we get hundreds of requests for paid Instagram posts, advertising masked as reviews and a whole load of unethical bullshit. Call us naive, but we believe that Patreon could be the first step to a more ethical, honest & in-depth online journalism. Journalism that advocates for its readers, not its advertisers.

Support Our Mission
%d bloggers like this: