On trust, play and the moment everything turns upside down.

At rasalila I regularly hear about the moment someone goes upside down for the first time.
Sometimes students share it with me after class. Sometimes teachers tell me about it later.

The story tends to sound similar.

A bit of nervous laughter before trying.
A moment of disorientation once they’re inverted.
And then a surprised smile or even an outburst of laughter.

Being upside down does something interesting to your perception. The room suddenly feels different. The floor seems further away. For a moment your brain needs to reorganize itself.

Some people describe it as slightly confusing at first. Others say it brings a surprising sense of calm.

But almost everyone remembers the moment.

Upside-down experiences have been part of rasalila since the very beginning. When we started the studio, we offered Pole flow and Acroyoga classes. Two very different practices, but both invite people to explore strength, balance and eventually… inversion.

In pole classes, that might be the first time someone lifts their hips above their head on the pole.

In Acroyoga, it happens when a flyer leans into a partner’s feet and suddenly finds themselves upside down, supported by another person.

Both moments contain something essential: trust.

Trust between partners in Acroyoga.
Trust in the grip and connection with the pole.
Trust in your own body to stay present and responsive.

A few years later we introduced aerial classes. Aerial hammock and aerial hoop arrived about two and a half years after we opened the studio. Suddenly people could also explore inversions while being supported by fabric or a steel hoop.

Different apparatus, same discovery.

In aerial hammock classes, whether it’s aerial yoga, aerial dance or hammock play, there is a similar layer of trust. The fabric holds you, but you still have to allow yourself to lean back, hang, or turn upside down.

That small decision is where the magic happens.

Over the years, I’ve noticed that upside-down practices are much less about strength than people expect.
They’re about trust.

Trust in a partner during Acroyoga.
Trust in the pole, hammock or hoop supporting you.
And gradually, trust in yourself.

After a class or multiple classes you can often see the shift. Someone walks through the studio with more confidence and pride.
Being upside down doesn’t just change how you see the room. It quietly changes how you see yourself.

What I also love about these practices, Pole, Acroyoga and Aerial, is that they reconnect people with something many of us lost along the way: play.

Hanging, balancing, spinning or flying through the air has a childlike quality to it. It brings back a time when movement didn’t need a goal. When it wasn’t about shaping your body or proving something. It was simply fun.

Somewhere along the way many of us learned that movement has to be serious. Structured. Controlled.

Practices like these gently interrupt that idea.

Yes, they ask for some strength. But they also invite curiosity. Experimentation. Moments of letting go.

And the real shift doesn’t come from mastering a trick.

It appears in the moment someone realizes they can trust the experience they’re in.

At rasalila, we’ve used the phrase for years, and it still feels true every time I see people walking through the studio, chin up:

Life is better upside down.

Love,
Willemijn