There is one quote I often return to in my classes and events: "Believe in your instincts. When you practise, trust your gut feelings over your intellect and rational mind, always rely on your instincts. Just because you rationalise and analyse something doesn't mean it's right. If you feel it, then it is right and true."
The approach I like to offer opens possibilities. It allows people to express themselves in their own practice rather than locking them into a mindset of "must do" or "follow me".
In the world of movement practices, yoga, and meditation, it is easy to become wrapped up in technicalities: the proper alignment, the perfect breath pattern, the "correct" lineage to follow.
Many of us, myself included, have struggled with the habit of measuring our progress against these external frameworks. We push ourselves to fit into predefined boxes, striving for what we have been told is the right way to move, breathe, or meditate. The real work, I have come to believe, is about letting go of these rules and learning to listen to our instincts.
The trap of dogma in movement and meditation practices
For years, I found myself caught in the web of dogmatic thinking. I believed that to grow in my practice, I needed to follow specific teachings, adhere to certain alignments, and adopt strict breathing techniques.
The difficulty was that the more I tried to fit into these ideals, the more disconnected I felt from my body, mind, and authentic self. Instead of feeling free in my practice, I was confined by the constant need to get everything right.
When we focus too closely on alignment, lineage, or correct breathing, we tend to silence our body's natural wisdom. Our instincts get pushed aside, replaced by an internal monologue that tries to control and perfect every movement. We lose sight of the present moment and the simple experience of our bodies, minds, and breath as they are.
Most importantly, we lose the real purpose of the practice, which is to educate ourselves kindly and honestly about who we actually are.
Learning to listen to our instincts in movement
After years of feeling this tension, I realised something had to change. I began asking myself whether my body might know more than any external teacher or book, and whether the alignment that worked for me might not be written in any textbook.
That was when I began to trust my gut feelings.
Learning to listen to our bodies is not easy, particularly after years of being told what we should feel or do. It requires patience, self-compassion, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. Ironically, it was teachers who had been through the same process themselves who helped me begin to let go of old beliefs and habits.
The task was to peel away the previous work without rejecting it. That work had served me well. From there, I could begin a new practice with fresh perspectives, informed by the experience of knowing what supports me and what does not.
Our bodies tend to whisper before they shout, and it is up to us to tune into those subtle sensations. It is about observing ourselves with kindness rather than judgement. Instead of forcing our bodies into rigid alignments, we can simply notice how something feels and what the body is asking for on that particular day.
The value of intuitive breathing
The same shift happened with my breathwork and pranayama practice.
For a long time, I was fixated on the idea of "correct" breathing techniques, specific counts for inhaling and exhaling, particular diaphragmatic movements.
Yet breathing is one of the most instinctive and involuntary functions we have. It knows what to do. The body is in control, not the rational mind. When I stopped trying to control it and allowed it to flow naturally, I found that my breath became fuller, more satisfying, and more connected to my movements.
The pranayama tradition has always understood the real purpose of breathwork, which in many modern settings seems to have been forgotten. [CHECK — this is Laurent's reading of the tradition rather than a sourced claim; leave as opinion or remove]
Trusting my body to lead me into the breath it needed turned out to be far more useful than imposing a structure on it.
This does not mean we should reject structured techniques. It means we should not impose them on ourselves. We can use them mindfully, at the right moment, and for the right reason.
Intuitive breathing shows us what we need in a given moment, and from there we can decide which tools to use.
Meditation without rules
Even in meditation, we are often told to sit in a particular way, focus on a certain object, or follow a prescribed method. In my own meditative experience, it is simpler than it is often made out to be. These tools can be helpful, and they can also become limiting if we rely on them too rigidly.
Learning to meditate without attachment to a particular method has been freeing for me.
That is when I discovered what I think of as universal meditation, with no rules except those dictated by my own being.
This was a real opening, and led to a more compassionate approach to mind-work. Some days I need stillness. Other days, movement feels like meditation. Trusting my instincts allows me to honour where I am, rather than forcing myself into a shape that does not feel right.
Trusting our instincts alongside intellect
Through all of this, I have come to see that intellect and learning are only one part of the practice.
Knowledge and technical understanding matter. We often forget that our intuition, our gut feelings, matter just as much. This is a primal tool we have carried since human beings first began to hunt and survive.
When we over-analyse, we can get stuck in our heads, doubting and questioning every move. When we trust what we feel, we tap into something older and more honest.
Our bodies are constantly communicating with us, but we have to be willing to listen. That means letting go of the idea that there is only one right way to practise, and accepting that what is right for us might shift from day to day, moment to moment.
Moving forward with patience and kindness
Coming to trust our instincts in movement, meditation, and breathwork is not straightforward. It takes time, and it asks us to let go of the perfectionism and one-way thinking that often sit inside structured practices.
The reward is significant.
By learning to listen, sense, and observe ourselves with patience and kindness, we open to a more intuitive, embodied practice that honours our physical, emotional, and mental state in the present moment.
When we release ourselves from rigid belief, we create space for authentic movement, natural breath, and genuine meditation. In doing so, we come closer to the real essence of these practices: connection, presence, and self-awareness.
Next time you step onto your mat or sit in meditation, remember that you already have the wisdom you need within you. Trust your instincts, and let your practice reflect that quiet inner knowing.
A note
I want to be clear that I am not criticising any particular methods, teachers, or more traditional styles of yoga or breathwork.
These approaches have been an important part of my own path, and I am genuinely grateful for the structure and discipline they offered me when I first began practising movement, yoga, and breathwork.
The thoughts I share here come from my personal experience over many years, and they reflect how my own practice has evolved. Each path has its value, and I honour them all.
If you would like to practise in this way with me, you can find my weekly online and in-person sessions here: View Classes and Pricing →