Suspended Between Worlds

There are moments in a teaching life that feel unreal — where the setting, the people, and the practice align and transcend anything planned or expected. Teaching at Angama Mara was one of those moments.

Angama literally means 'suspended in mid-air' — and it feels just like that. Perched along the edge of the Great Rift Valley, the lodge hovers above the endless plain of the Maasai Mara, with the horizon stretching beyond comprehension. The boundary between sky and earth dissolves. You no longer stand on the land, but somehow become 其中(qí zhōng) — held within the living body of the Earth, breathing in rhythm with all that is ancient and alive. Every breath feels different — wider, deeper — as if this vast expanse is breathing you open.

I was the first to lead a practice on Angama Mara's new Yoga Deck, set in front of the Gym, looking out into the distance. Standing there, the sky, the earth, and the body remember something they have always known. Below, herds moved slowly across the plain, clouds gliding across the sky, the wind carrying stories of hundreds of generations.

It didn't take much to convince the Maasai Warriors to join me for a yoga practice. We moved through breath and shapes, like the grass bending and the light shifting, with the animals tracing ancient paths below. The Maasai Mara is a place of immense vitality, home to the Great Migration and deep, ancient rhythms. To practice yoga here is to participate in the life of the planet and all its beings.

To share this space with Maasai warriors is to understand deeply what it means to live in concert with the Earth. They are not separate from this land — they are its listeners, its stewards, its protectors. For countless generations, they've lived in a way that honours balance, moving to the seasons' rhythms and taking only what is needed.

What began as a class became an exchange — language beyond words. Stretching, grounding, opening. There was curiosity, recognition, and laughter.

My yoga was telling them what they already knew. The Maasai have long understood how to stand like a pillar of earth and sky, how to listen to the wind, the animals, and shifts in the environment. Yoga is not something we bring somewhere: it already exists — in different forms, in different cultures and practices. Here, it simply found another expression.

In a world that speaks of conservation as an external effort — policies, protections, interventions — the Maasai embody something essential: conservation as a relationship. The Maasai Mara National Reserve remains one of the most vibrant ecosystems on earth, not only because it is protected, but because it has been lived with — wisely, respectfully, over time. The land is not a resource. It is not scenery. It is kin. Yoga teaches the same truth: union, not separation.

Standing on that platform, guiding breath and movement, with the Mara stretching out below, everything felt exquisitely simple. Ancient and modern. Stillness and wildness. Practice and life. No distance between self and world.

We leave places like this, but they do not leave us. And sometimes, if you're lucky, those moments happen suspended between heaven and earth.

We asked Cora a few questions after her visit.

How did you first hear about Angama?
Through Condé Nast Traveller, where I first noticed it and thought — one day. I'm so glad that the day finally came.

Did you arrive planning to teach?
Not at all. Teaching yoga to Maasai warriors was absolutely not on the schedule — I arrived with no agenda beyond the safari itself. But Africa has a way of rewriting plans. Earlier in the trip, I had led a spontaneous class for Samburu warriors in the north. It happened naturally and joyfully, so it stayed with me.

How did the class actually happen?
I was on our tent deck practising after the rain and showed Emily a short video I had filmed at lunch. Her response was: 'Have you seen our yoga deck?' What a space — open to the sky, with the Mara stretching endlessly below. We agreed it was a place that deserved to be used. I asked if anyone on the team might like to join, and Emily mentioned it to Jacob, who rounded up the other Maasai men.

What stays with you from that morning?
These men have extraordinary physical awareness, patience, and stillness — I feel incredibly lucky to have shared that experience with them. Angama created the space for something unplanned to happen, and often those are the moments that stay with you longest. I came for the wildlife and the landscape, but I left with the memory of warriors in red shukas attempting warrior pose, and a great deal of laughter on a deck above the Mara.

Yoga has always been about connection for me. That morning, it stretched a little further.