Powerful can be the practice of yoga in an environment that palpably promotes easy, natural feelings of the body’s alignment, mental stillness, and the kind of connection that allows one to tune in to the natural world as if it were a beloved musical instrument. A biophilic yoga space is much more than just an inviting atmosphere. It can be a synergistic setting—one that aligns the body, centers the mind, and connects practitioners to the natural world. At least, that’s the target I shoot for when I create a biophilic yoga space. Here’s how I go about it.
Part 1: Creating the Base of a Biophilic Yoga Studio
There’s something about yoga that embodies balance—connecting breath and movement, body and spirit—more than the practice itself. Maybe it’s the aesthetic of the poses, or the way yoga exudes a duality of effort and ease. It could also be that the ancient wisdom of yoga is suffused with notions of balance and harmony. Whatever the reason, when you imagine a biophilic yoga space, it only makes sense that balance would be a key consideration in its design.
I recall a project I worked on for a client with an urban loft. They wanted to bring nature into the space and make it feel like more than a small, rectangular box. My two-part solution involved maximizing natural light and making the shadows that fell in the space just right. As I said, I believe that light is the ultimate natural element, and I can also state with certainty that shadow is too.
The design of the studio, especially its floor, considered the essence of yoga. The yoga studio demands a space that fosters tranquility and warmth in an environment that contains not only the teacher and the taught but also the essential props: mats, blocks, and bolsters, as well as a place to hang upside down in a hammock. If there is to be any virtue in an unadorned space, it has to come from flooring that sets its practitioner at ease. While bamboo may be the ideal choice for yoga flooring, it is not the only one. Cork is another excellent option and is just as sustainable as bamboo; in fact, it is a far better choice in terms of not only sound absorption but also insulation.
Biophilic design emphasizes the significance of textures in the spaces humans inhabit, and the living wall I constructed in my home is a testament to that. It serves as a delightful distraction for the eyes, an aromatic diversion for the nose, and a silencing solution for the ears. I relish the almost surreal effect of being in that room. It’s as if I should be wearing some sort of a headband to enhance the magical experience of the living wall. The next time I play music or practice in front of an audience, I think I will just set up in that tranquil, biophilic space.
Yet, even without the funding or room for a complex vertical garden, basic houseplants can yield decorative dividends and, more importantly, make a space healthier. In one ongoing project, we’ve flanked a large open meeting room with tall ficus trees and clusters of smaller snake plants. These not only help filter the air—an unmitigated benefit—but also serve to direct the eye around the space. The light changes throughout the day, as does the appearance of the plants, which is something they share with all deceptively static architecture. The interior feels alive with nature, and the shadows reached out further than they do with our usual fixtures.
When you have a large, open room, planters and plants can become incredibly important. They can create lovely little places to do any number of practices. I do not see green plants and trees as simply enhancing a room’s decor, though they certainly do that. I see them as both living and intentional fixtures that command a person’s attention just like any wall would. They are also excellent at heightening the open-floor concept because they can be arranged in such a way to promote that feeling of being close to the ground yet being in a kind of private area.
In my experience, leafy plants in the right arrangement can do all that and look beautiful at the same time.
Part 2: Bringing the Senses into a Biophilic Yoga Space
The transformative yoga experience encompasses all the senses. My work has taught me that biophilic design involves more than what is merely seen—it creates a space that feels vibrant. When it comes to the immersive quality of the yoga practice, I pay close attention to sound, touch, scent, and even the air itself. Each element must mindfully contribute to the calming atmosphere of the studio that helps practitioners ease into the now. Here’s how I attend to these senses in the context of biophilic design.
Sounds and Acoustics in Nature
An often unnoticed part of a yoga room is its sound. You could create the most beautiful space imaginable, but if it is overrun with noise, then the calm necessary for the practice of yoga can’t exist. I worked on a project for a yoga studio in the midst of a very busy part of the city, and our main problem was how to cover the sounds of cars and people right outside the studio. We couldn’t just insulate the room and pray for the best, so we got a little creative. Since we couldn’t make the room only quiet, we made it soothing instead by incorporating mini fountains and a “river” that runs through the studio.
The little indoor fountain created a gentle sound that made me feel as if I were inside a tranquil temple. An unadorned structure of piped plastic, the fountain sent water in a steady stream down a series of steps onto a bed of smooth stones that murmured and gurgled as it joined the pond. The murmuring of the smooth stones joined that of the gurgling water in the fountain, forming a soft blanket of sound that masked the occasional bike bell or raspy voice coming from the street outside.
Another wonderful auditory aspect is wind chimes or bells made from natural materials, such as bamboo or shells. Their gentle, irregular tones can add another dimension of auditory depth to the room. I recall during my time in Bali a friend who practiced yoga in an outdoor pavilion. The space was surrounded by bamboo chimes. Every time the wind blew, we were infused with the sound of nature … the randomness of it reminding us of the unpredictability of the natural world.
Integrating Fragrance with Natural Components
As a powerful cue that accesses both memory and emotion, scent can instantly and profoundly alter a person’s state of being. When I create yoga spaces, I strive to incorporate natural scents, either through plants, essential oils, or materials that release subtle fragrances into the air. I’ve leaned heavily on herbal plants like lavender and eucalyptus, which aside from their aesthetic appeal, release calming aromas. Aromatherapist and Gaiam instructor Deanna Johnson even asserts that soft, floral scents can “help establish a serene environment.” One of my favorite memories from a yoga project was when a client insisted on having the yoga room lined with lavender plants for the windowsills.
In more confined areas, it’s simple to introduce biophilia into the air itself, bringing the outdoors in with the use of essential oils. Woodsy scents like cedarwood or pine are calming, while eucalyptus is refreshing and stimulating. I once designed a space that had a ceiling made of cedar beams. The natural scent of the wood became part of the routine experience of occupying that space but in a way that was never overwhelming. Even when the noticeable scent began to fade, the association with the smell and the wood itself remained.
The experience of yoga depends very much on the handle of its materials, so it’s natural that those who teach yoga should consider their surface sensibilities. Smooth stone, rough bark, and woven textiles form the basis of yoga’s materials. When we consider how these feel in the hand or against the skin, we naturally gravitate towards choices that add to the warmth and the feel of yoga’s authenticity, as any natural materials like cotton or wool for use in cushions and mats would.
On a project I collaborated on, we placed big, round river stones along the walls of a practice space. They weren’t in the area where one would engage in the actual practice of whatever art it was that they were going to practice (though, by art, I mostly mean “martial”), but rather against the walls of an anteroom leading to the main practice area. The idea was that one would place a hand on one of the cool, smooth stones while entering or exiting the practice space, serving to remind one of the meditative and martial nature of the practice about to be undertaken or just completed.
One of the simplest—yet often overlooked—components of a biophilic yoga environment is the quality of the air. The air should be as clean and fresh as possible, especially since breathing is such an intrinsic part of yoga. Here is where the functional aspects of plants come into play. They can serve as beautiful elements while also fulfilling an important purpose. Peace lilies and spider plants are two examples of excellent “yoga room” plants—natural air purifiers—that filter out various toxins and provide easy, fresh, “breathable” air. In one studio I designed, we hung a large installation of those two plants at different heights and also incorporated cross-ventilation strategies with operable windows to marry the practices of pure air and fresh breath.
Ensure that every space—no matter how small—has an entrance, an exit, and a well that’s good for breathing. I try not to design stagnant nooks and crannies that can be perfumed and scented but not truly ventilated. I take the push of fresh air as indispensable to making a yoga room feel like a yoga room and not simply an air-conditioned box (like the one in the picture above). For one project, we created a windowless space made for meditation, which involved lots of inhaling and exhaling. To make that careful breathing possible, we incorporated a skylight and a ventilation system that worked just enough to let the outside air tease the inside air from the top of the room to the bottom.
When creating a biophilic yoga space, you are not just planning a room; you are building an environment that uses the subtle but profound influences of nature to engage the mind, body, and spirit. A well-designed yoga space breathes, something that seems to occur because of the way nature’s nearly omnipresent influences have been manipulated to an almost architectural end. Biofilic design isn’t about worshiping the natural world. It doesn’t even focus on directly simulating woodlands, meadows, or other specific landscapes. Instead, it holds as sacrosanct the atmosphere of spaces in which one’s merely human presence has been inhaled and exhaled.
Part 3: Evolving Your Biophilic Yoga Space
A biophilic yoga space is never static. Nature herself is always evolving, and your yoga space should have the flexibility to reflect that. Something I really enjoy about biophilic design is that it invites change and transformation—much like yoga itself. Can you, too, envision your biophilic yoga space evolving as your practice deepens or shifts? Over the years, I’ve seen firsthand how spaces that start simple can grow into something more profound, more layered, and more meaningful as they are personalized.
Adjustments for Each Season and Natural Cycles One of the great joys of bringing biophilia into a yoga space is the opportunity to work with, and honor, the energies of the seasons. Nature, in all her beauty, is a constant reminder of the unfurling, the deepening, and the resurgence of life and energy that happens in each season and each lunar cycle. If you have a seasonal practice in a yoga space, you can change this practice with simple and sound adjustments to mirror the appearance of nature outside. In my own yoga room, I like to shift the vibe ever so slightly with the seasons, from spring flowers to autumnal leaves and grasses.
A particularly special assignment was creating a yoga room for a client with a profound connection to the seasons. We put in windows—huge, floor-to-ceiling—upon a garden, and my client asked that the space between those windows mimic the garden’s seasonal changes. In spring and summer, the yoga room was alive with the not-so-distant sounds of nature and a brightness that practically beckoned one to reach for the sky with an upward salute. The room and the practice felt full of the right kind of light and the right kind of energy, and that power was amplified by plant life that was almost overwhelming in its presence and the textures that it offered.
Another area to embrace the seasonal shifts is lighting. Any biophilic design would benefit most from natural light. But as we’ve discussed, the seasons do not change subtly. They are in constant motion, and their state is usually quite apparent. The quality of light and even what we can see in it is altered significantly. Winter offers us shorter days, with the prolonged sunset seeming to arrive too early; the evening skies, though, can take on some hauntingly beautiful qualities. In summer, we experience not only the most intense light but the evening’s extended duration. Both seasons, in their way, really call for lighting that lends a space some intimacy.
Spaces That Grow and Change Flexibly
One of the main ideas behind biophilic design is that it should be flexible and adaptable. Just as natural systems respond to the demands of their inhabitants, so should our built environments evolve to suit us. Spaces should not only be created to meet initial demands but also to be adaptable to needs that may arise later. Incorporing wood elements into yoga studio design can help accomplish this and also maintain a biophilic atmosphere. In one such project, we used lightweight wood screens to create a range of room sizes and shapes for various classes and practices.
The screens were made from bamboo.
Dynamic elements can also be offered by plants. They grow; they change shape; and they can be rotated in and out of spaces, depending on how a room feels. I often advise clients to picture plants as living companions to their practice: moving them closer to the practice area for grounding postures or setting them near windows when they need more light. One client I worked with had a small potted tree in her yoga room. Over the years, the tree became the symbol of her personal growth in yoga. As the tree grew taller, her practice deepened, and she felt weirder and weirder about how much the two had in common within the period of a year.
It’s moments like that with clients that remind me how powerful a biophilic space can be.
Deliberate Design and Customized Details
Staying connected to nature is important, but creating a biophilic yoga space requires personalizing it to make it not only calming but also inspiring. I always encourage people to construct their yoga spaces with personal objects that carry significant meaning—mementos, if you will. You could incorporate something as simple as a river stone that you gathered during a hike but that reminds you of the peace you experienced (and that you could definitely use a little more of) while communing with nature. One of my favorite yoga spaces I’ve helped design is one that a client said is also a kind of meditation space.
One more method of customizing a biophilic yoga space is through the artwork. While using art inspired by nature is a great way to infuse a yoga space with biophilia, I think it’s better still when the art has personal significance. A framed photo of a distant favorite mountain, a painting of a familiar sunset, or even nature-sourced art in a non-figurative form (think sound waves or patterns made in wind-blown sand) can add layers of quiet, private meaning to a biophilic yoga space. In one of my projects, for instance, I hung a large canvas painting of a misty forest, a scene I first encountered on a no-one-around-else kinda morning hike.
And every time I look at it, I’m reminded of the stillness of that moment, and it helps bring a sense of calm to my practice.
Making sustainability a core part of what we do.
Biophilic design is particularly significant in a yoga space because of its core tenets and their implications for both yoga practitioners and the Earth’s biosphere. The first, and probably most important, is sustainability. What I love about biophilic design is that I get to work with nature as a partner. When I say “partner,” what I mean is that I have nature as a model and a mentor. I get to learn from her, and that is big. Sustainability is all about honoring the life cycles of materials used in the spaces we inhabit and making decisions that reduce our impact on the Earth for the health of the yurt practitioner, the yoga teacher, and the biosphere as a whole.
In a single project, we employed reclaimed wood for the studio beams and flooring. The wood was salvaged from a local barn that was taken down. Its aged appearance provided a rustic element, a sort of understated ornamentation, that you wouldn’t find in a virgin or even a new reclaimed board. And the client’s delight in using all reclaimed wood, with the attendant backstory, was a huge plus.
I have discovered that even minor selections—such as utilizing energy-efficient lighting or natural cleaning products—can support the principles of biophilia. Each decision—no matter how minute—can build a more profound relationship with the natural world. Once, we even put together a simple rainwater collection system that fed the plants in a yoga space’s garden. That system’s contribution emphasized the idea that the yoga garden was part of a larger ecosystem in harmony with the environment.
More than mere visual appeal, a biophilic yoga space should enhance one’s practice, create an environment conducive to deepening the connection to nature, and even amuse. Lights, sounds, textures, and materials will contribute to an ethos of peace and presence that transcends the tropes of “serene spaces made with natural materials” and “good yoga music.” Your biophilic yoga practice space should keep you grounded while allowing your thoughts to wander and your body to flow, and it should be your space’s biophilic essence that keeps you coming back for both the “good” and the “yoga.”
