Why I sometimes do not play music in workshops

Music plays in many yoga studios, meditation rooms and classes. Gentle sounds, nature recordings, Tibetan singing bowls. It sounds lovely, it feels good, and there is a good reason for it – music supports a group and eases the initial shyness.

Even so, in some sessions I do things differently. Not because one way is better, but because stillness makes something else possible.

Stillness as a practice

At first, stillness is uncomfortable. It reveals what we otherwise cover up – the restlessness in the mind, the twitching in the body, the impatience. For me, that is precisely its value: I get to see what bothers me rather than tuning it out.

For me, Qi Gong is less a relaxation exercise than a practice of attention. And attention often becomes clearer where there is less in the way.

What happens without music

When the room is still, you hear your breath. You hear your feet touching the floor. Perhaps you hear the traffic outside or the creaking of the floor. All of this is part of the practice – not a disturbance, but reality.

Stillness is not empty. It is full of what we otherwise fail to hear.

In this stillness, something surprising happens: the body begins to find its own music. The rhythm of the breath, the melody of movement. No speakers are needed for that.

No dogma

I am not saying that music is bad – I love listening to it at home, and in a group that needs support at that moment, it can be just the right thing. But in some sessions I prefer to leave the space empty, so that nothing dictates how the time should feel.

Stillness is what I offer participants. Even if it sometimes does not feel like a gift at first – and if it is too much for someone right now, they simply say so.