by KERUSHA PILLAY – from the Fieldnotes of a Helpful Scientist
A moment from one of the 108 Surya Namaskar events at Yogam Yoga. What always amazes me is not just the physical achievement, but the sense of community, encouragement, and shared purpose that fills the room.
Over the years, many of you have followed my journey through science, health, travel, motherhood, community projects, and the occasional spectacular disaster.
This week, I found myself reflecting on a different journey.
A quieter one.
One that began many years ago when I was looking for answers to my own health challenges.
What began as an attempt to reverse my illness became one of the most unexpected gifts of my life.
At first, yoga was simply a tool.
A way to manage pain.
A way to better understand my body.
A way to support healing and recovery.
But over time, I realised it was much more than that.
It was a process.
A practice.
A philosophy.
A way of paying attention.
A way of learning to listen more carefully to my body, my thoughts, my emotions, and the world around me.
It taught me patience when I wanted immediate answers.
Acceptance when I wanted control.
Compassion when I was often hardest on myself.
What I came to understand is that yoga is not about becoming someone different.
It is about becoming more aware of who you already are.
For me, it became a framework for growth.
Not only physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
And somewhere along the way, it also became a community.
A place where friendships formed, conversations unfolded, meals were shared, and people supported one another through the challenges of life.
Recently, I had the privilege of hosting a Helpful Scientist workshop with the Yogam Yoga community and the amazing educator team at Ocean View.
The workshop itself focused on wellbeing, connection, resilience, and the ways in which movement, mindfulness, and community can support both teachers and learners.
We explored the realities of stress, the importance of self-care, and how small daily practices can help us navigate an increasingly busy and demanding world.
As someone who spends a great deal of time talking about health, behaviour, and wellbeing, I found it encouraging to sit in a room full of educators who care deeply about the children they serve and who remain open to learning, growing, and supporting one another.
What I appreciated most was that the conversation was never about perfection.
It was about showing up.
Listening.
Learning.
And finding practical ways to care for ourselves and the people around us.
As we worked throught the workshop, I found myself thinking not about poses or breathing techniques, but about people.
The people who show up.
The people who serve.
The people who quietly dedicate themselves to helping others without needing recognition or applause.
The workshop reminded me that wellbeing is not something we build alone.
It grows through relationships.
Through shared experiences.
Through communities that choose kindness, compassion, and understanding.
What struck me most was the care behind everything.
The conversations.
The planning.
The thoughtfulness.
The genuine desire to support both teachers and learners.
There was no rush.
No competition.
No need to prove anything.
Just people sharing ideas, experiences, and a sincere wish to contribute something meaningful.
Listening to the philosophy behind the programme, I was reminded of the many influences that have shaped it.
India appeared often in those conversations—not only as a place, but as a source of ideas about service, community, food, hospitality, compassion, balance, and connection.
The older I get, the more I realise that yoga is not something that happens on a mat.
The mat is simply where we practise.
The real yoga happens afterwards.
It happens in the way we treat people.
The way we listen.
The way we respond to challenges.
The way we show patience.
The way we continue to show up when life becomes difficult.
One of the things I have always appreciated about this community is that nobody was trying to be perfect.
Nobody had all the answers.
People simply arrived as they were.
And somehow that was enough.
One of the things I found myself reflecting on during the workshop was the many Saturdays I spent with this community over the years.
After classes, we would gather at Duncan’s home.
There would be food.
Tea.
Laughter.
Stories.
Discussions about life, science, philosophy, family, travel, spirituality, and the strange adventure of being human.
People from different backgrounds, beliefs, professions, and cultures would sit around a table and simply be together.
Looking back, I realise those gatherings taught me as much about yoga as any class ever could.
The friendships that grew from those Saturdays are friendships I treasure deeply.
They remind me that community is built intentionally.
One conversation.
One shared meal.
One act of kindness at a time.
When people think about community, they often think about big events.
I think about Saturday mornings.
I think about Duncan waking up early to prepare lessons that are always thoughtful, structured, and incredibly informative.
Week after week.
Year after year.
The consistency of that commitment is something I have always admired.
Teaching is one thing.
Showing up consistently is another.
Duncan has a remarkable ability to leave people better than he found them.
Through knowledge.
Through kindness.
Through encouragement.
Through humour.
His wit is sharp, his laughter infectious, and somehow there is always room for both seriousness and joy in the same conversation.
Then there are the dogs.
Two rescue dogs who seem completely unaware that a yoga class is taking place.
They wander in and out as they please, occasionally moving from person to person as if conducting their own wellbeing checks.
They have become part of the experience, bringing smiles wherever they go.
There is also the library.
A collection of books that reflects a lifetime of curiosity and learning.
In fact, writing this has reminded me that I still need to return one of them. Duncan, please forgive me.
Somewhere along the way during the Yoga year there is usually also a challenge.
One of the most memorable is the Surya Namaskar challenge, where participants complete 108 Sun Salutations, twice a year.
The dedication, discipline, and sheer number of people who take part never ceases to impress me.
Of course, none of this happens in isolation.
Gavin’s warmth, generosity, and hospitality help create the environment that makes people feel welcome from the moment they arrive.
Together they have created something special.
Not just a yoga class.
A community.
A place where people are encouraged to grow, learn, laugh, support one another, and keep showing up.
And perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts anyone can offer.
As a scientist, I spend a great deal of time thinking about systems.
Biological systems.
Human systems.
Community systems.
As a human being, I spend a great deal of time trying to understand people.
The older I get, the more I realise that healing rarely happens in isolation.
It happens in community.
The healthiest systems always seem to have a few things in common:
Connection.
Purpose.
Compassion.
Belonging.
These are ancient ideas, yet they may be more important today than ever
before.
I left the workshop feeling grateful.
Grateful to Mrs Moodley and the Ocean View team for welcoming us.
Grateful to the Yogam Yoga community for sharing their wisdom, experiences, friendship, and philosophy.
Grateful for the reminder that there are still people quietly dedicating their lives to building connection in a world that can sometimes feel disconnected.
And before I finish, I owe all of you a small apology.
Many of you have noticed that my Thursday and Saturday writing schedule has taken a few knocks lately.
For that, I am genuinely sorry.
The truth is that sometimes the very things I write about are the reason I am late.
Sometimes I am sitting in community halls.
Sometimes I am attending workshops.
Sometimes I am learning from people whose stories deserve to be shared.
Sometimes I am spending time with my children.
Sometimes I am supporting family.
Sometimes I am building Helpful Scientist, Nomandla, and Ithemba.
Sometimes I am simply trying to be present in the places where I am needed most.
And sometimes I simply need time to reset.
I spend a great deal of my life encouraging other people to listen to their bodies, pay attention to stress, recognise burnout, and take care of themselves.
Every now and then, I have to remember to follow my own advice.
I am only human.
Like everyone else, I need time to rest, reflect, recover, and reconnect with the things that matter most.
The truth is that building organisations, supporting communities, raising children, writing, teaching, and trying to be present in all the places that matter is sometimes a balancing act I do not always get right.
One day, I hope life will be a little more stable.
Perhaps there will be fewer competing priorities and more uninterrupted time to sit quietly and write.
For now, I am still building.
Still learning.
Still growing.
Still trying.
That is not an excuse.
But it is the truth.
Please forgive me.
I will try again.
The stories may occasionally arrive a little late, but I promise they come from a life that is being fully lived.
Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for your grace.
Thank you for your kindness.
And thank you for staying for the ride.
If yoga has taught me anything, it is that we do not need to have all the answers.
Perhaps it is enough to show up.
To listen.
To learn.
To share what we can.
To be of service.
To break bread together.
To build friendships.
To offer compassion.
And to leave the people we meet a little better than we found them.
I am still learning.
Still growing.
Still building.
Still trying.
And when I stumble, I will do what yoga has taught me to do.
Pause.
Breathe.
Begin again.
With gratitude,
Kerusha
P.S.
The friendships, conversations, and lessons I have gained through the Yogam Yoga community have enriched my life in ways I could never have anticipated. I am so grateful to have met each person and if you are reading this, THANK YOU FOR BEING YOU!
What began as a yoga class became something much greater: a community, a source of support, and a place where people from different backgrounds could come together to learn, share, laugh, eat, and simply be human.
If anything in this story resonates with you, I encourage you to learn more about their work and perhaps attend a class, workshop, or community event.
www.yogamyoga.com
You never know where a simple conversation, a shared meal, or a Saturday morning might lead.
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