Spirituality and exercise are not often considered together. Exercise is expected to take place in gyms filled with dumbbells, treadmills, and water bottles neatly arranged. Churches, temples, or perhaps a quiet place for meditation are viewed as proper settings for spirituality. They occupy separate spaces. That was my assumption for years, but life revealed something different.
Exercise used to be about monitoring calories and getting toned arms, but that changed a long time ago. It turned into something deeper, something that felt almost holy in its cadence. When I stretch, breathe in sync with my body, or watch kids laugh while doing jumping jacks on one of our shows, I don’t only see fitness. I see spirit moving through the body. I see bodies becoming temples in the most profound ways.
The Unplanned Discovery
What surprised me most was that I never intended for exercise to become spiritual. It happened quietly, almost by chance. I produced community programs that encouraged people to gather and participate in something enjoyable. That was how Kids Exercise with Arfy and Yoga N’ Chair first came into being.
On the surface, they were simply fitness shows. But everything changed when families began practicing together. I saw grandparents mirroring the movements of small children, and teenagers rolling their eyes before breaking into laughter. In that moment, I realized this was more than a workout. This was a connection. And at its essence, connection is spiritual.
Breathing as a form of prayer
Breathing was among the simplest practices in Yoga N’ Chair. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. If you have ever tried chair yoga, you know how deceptively simple it appears. Yet with focused attention, it transforms. Slow breathing no longer feels like air moving in and out. It feels like a prayer.
Consider this: from the moment of birth, you have done nothing more consistently than breathe, and you will continue to do so until your final day. Each breath sustains life. Each exhale releases. When you attend closely, it feels as though you are connected not only to your body but also to the earth and perhaps even to God.
That is why I remind people that chair yoga is not about perfect stretches or postures that imitate images on a DVD case. It is about awareness of life itself. If that is not spiritual, then what is?
Movement as Gratitude
One truth often forgotten is that movement is one of the simplest ways to honor the body. A marathon or a headstand is not required to say thank you. A gentle stroll is enough. A silly dance in your living room is all you need. Even a brief stretch at a desk is enough.
I recall watching children on Kids Exercise with Arfy. They did not care about toned arms or calories burned. They moved freely, sometimes awkwardly, sometimes wildly, but always with joy. That joy was contagious. Parents laughed and tried to keep pace. And in those moments, what unfolded was not a “workout.” It was families practicing gratitude together.
When we move, we say, “Thank you, legs, for carrying me.” Thank you, arms, for lifting what I need. Thank you for another breath. Gratitude turns exercise into a spiritual practice. Removing obstacles
In many traditional settings, rules define who is considered spiritual. They dictate who sits where, who leads, and who belongs. Exercise carries no such restrictions. We designed our shows deliberately so everyone could share in them.
Yoga N’ Chair was created for elders living in nursing homes. No one was excluded because of age or ability. Kids Exercise with Arfy allowed children and parents to move together at their own pace. No one was told they must keep up or perform “correctly.”
That openness itself is deeply spiritual. It declares that all are welcome. It affirms that you can move, pause, or laugh through it all, and simply being present is sufficient. It is not about perfection; it is about participation.
Exercise as a Way to Share Stories
Reflecting on the hundreds of shows we created, I realize each told a story, though never with written words. They spoke through movement. An older woman slowly raising her arms embodied a story of resilience. A child laughing through push-ups beside a parent revealed a tale of love.
For centuries, stories have carried spiritual traditions from one generation to the next. In my small way, exercise carried me through. These were not scripted sermons, yet they offered messages: “You can do this.” “You are not alone.” “You are stronger than you believe.”
The Spirit’s Fun
I do not wish to suggest that everything was solemn or weighty. Much of it was joyous. Imagine a dog in costume named Arfy attempting squats with children. Imagine a group of seniors bursting into laughter as they toppled together during chair yoga.
Those moments of laughter mattered profoundly. Too often spirituality is imagined as rigid, somber, or heavy. But what if spirit delights in play? What if joy itself is holy? Watching people laugh while moving convinced me that God must have a sense of humor. The divine presence is clearest when we stop striving to be serious and delight in the moment.
Not a Show, but a Way of Life
The word “practice” matters greatly. Exercise is not a performance for others. Perfection is never required. Presence is what matters. The same holds for spirituality. No one expects wisdom at the outset. You begin. You falter. You begin again.
On good days, working out feels like a flight of fancy. On difficult days, it feels like dragging the body through mud. Yet even then, showing up is strength. It is proof that you remain here, still trying, still alive. That perseverance, however imperfect, is a form of faith.
Final Thoughts
Exercise may be a spiritual activity, yes. Not because it happens in gyms or burns calories, but because it brings us together with our bodies, with each other, and with something bigger than ourselves. It teaches us how to be thankful, present, humble, and happy. It breaks down borders and says that everyone, from a toddler in trainers to a granny in a chair, is welcome.
Belief in angels or repetition of mantras is not required to find the spiritual in exercise. All that is needed is awareness. Awareness of breath. Awareness of laughter. Awareness of the miracle of living in the body you have been given.
You may sense it too the next time you unroll a yoga mat, lace walking shoes, or sit in a chair to stretch. It is the sacredness concealed in ordinary movements and the quiet voice that whispers, “This, right here, is holy.”