Yoga Pathways

I nearly didn’t write a blog this week. I was feeling particularly uninspired and out of sorts. I’d quietly given myself a get-out-of-jail-free card—until, as so often happens, London intervened. Over the weekend, I found myself drifting through two very different exhibitions: Cartier at the V&A and Flowers at the Saatchi Gallery. Art has a way of nudging you awake, even when you think you’re just popping in for a look.

Cartier first: an entire universe of tiaras, vanity cases—objects so meticulously crafted they’re designed to outlast all human drama and passing trends. There was a cigarette case so beautiful if I owned it, I’d put it to immediate use.

One short video at the exhibition pulled me in, revealing the painstaking process behind Cartier’s iconic panther pieces. It begins with over fifty sketches to catch a single, perfect pose: seductive, sleek, anatomically precise from every angle. 3-D models follow, life-like in their detail, before the long process of hand-sculpting and chiselling begins. Watching an artisan crouched over the workbench, peering through a microscope, using tweezers and a jeweller’s loupe (plus, I assume, nerves of steel) to position each tiny onyx spot and diamond was mesmerising. Each black spot is delicately carved to fit perfectly into the panther’s body. A small panther ring can take over 200 hours to make. Standing there, I felt the contrast with our rushed, disposable world. The patience, dedication and attention felt almost sacred—a quiet reminder that some things are made to last, whether they’re precious objects or just moments of real focus, like yoga practice at its best.

Fast forward to the Flowers exhibition at the Saatchi Gallery and suddenly I’m realising I’ve been walking past half the world with my eyes half shut. There are flowers everywhere—on sofas, wallpaper, clothes, inked onto someone’s arm—and yet, I barely notice them. Botticelli’s Primavera  ( a painting I’ve looked at many times) supposedly hides forty species of flowers in plain sight. Of course they were always there. But I only saw them because the exhibition was called Flowers, and suddenly that was the lens through which I saw everything. It’s funny how much of life we tune in or out, just because of the story or the question we’re carrying with us.

This is where art and yoga quietly shake hands. Yoga, too, hands us a new lens. On some days, we don’t go beyond the physical workout or concentration needed just to stay upright. But every so often, something shifts, and we see and feel what’s around —a sliver of morning light, the feeling of the mat, a breath. On those days, life gets sharper, fuller, for a moment or two.

So, this week, I’m inviting us both to stay a little more awake. Notice what’s on your own internal gallery walls. Take stock, mid-pose or mid-coffee, of something you might skim past—a detail, a sound, or (if you’re luckier than me) perhaps a tiara on your bedside table.

Sometimes, the smallest things—attention paid, a well-crafted object, a simple flower—are what bring us back to life.

Here’s to not missing the flowers. Or the tiaras. Or any of the details that last, if only we notice