Over the years, a rhythm formed in my life. Summers find me working seasonal jobs on campings in Europe, while winters pull me back to Asia. Different places, different cultures, yet always the same thread running through it all: people, movement, and the spaces we create together.
I would not call myself a hardcore acroyogi. I probably spend no more than twenty percent of my time actually practicing. I do not repeat drills over and over, and I am rarely chasing the next trick. Most of my time happens around the practice rather than inside it.
I walk, I talk, I invite those watching in awe and believe they could never do it. (Spoiler: 99% can). I notice who looks unsure, who needs a spot, who needs a pause. I pay attention to safety, consent, and the subtle dynamics in a group.
People often think I am organizing things, but people come on their own. What I really do apparently is holding the space so that connection can happen naturally.
Over time, I have started to recognize and embrace this role for what it is and to step into it more consciously.
Acroyoga has been an unexpected teacher in leadership for me. It showed me that you do not need to be the most visible or the most skilled to have impact. Presence matters more than instruction. Trust grows when people feel seen rather than pushed.
Communities thrive when the focus shifts from performance to belonging.
As said, I am slowly embracing being a spaceholder, not as a label, but as a way of showing up. Creating environments where people feel safe, welcome, and free to be themselves might be the most meaningful thing I do, both on and off the mat.
In fact, winter is no different from summer. In both seasons, I do the same thing: I (together with all those around me) create happiness by offering people a place that feels like home.
renesmit