Holistically completely loose – NRC

It seems like an exclusive festival, this Monday evening in the Dominicuskerk in Amsterdam. Young people dressed in white T-shirts are bustling around. They test light and sound, light candles and incense and check dozens of headphones. One of them puts sixty mats in a slanting formation with great concentration, all at exactly the same distance from each other. “That way everyone will soon be able to use our guide see well.”

The’guide‘ tonight is Luuk Melisse (30), co-founder of Sanctum, the new holistic sports concept that is about to start here, under the watchful eye of the stained glass saints. Melissa, the only one dressed in black instead of white, is still sitting in front of the altar in Baddha Konasanaattitude (‘the butterfly’) before people enter. “You don’t have to be spiritual, for what we’re going to do later,” he reassures with a smile. “Whether you live like a nun or drank two bottles of wine last night, we are not competing here to see who is the most enlightened.”

The first participants trickle in. A woman immediately walks to the front pew, where she throws her sports bag on and starts to change. “You won’t know what you’re seeing,” she says excitedly. Joanna (37) and Anna (24), who do not want their last name in the newspaper, seem tense. “I come here to let go of the stress of my busy job,” says Joanna. “I say no more. No spoilers.” She points to her friend Anna, who is coming along for the first time. “I want her to go into it completely open.”

Buddhist touch

‘The hot new fitness class that will make you cry‘ described The Sunday Times Sanctum early this year. That was Luuk Melisse’s intention when he left the musical world behind: to add something to the fitness world. Not only exercise for your body, but also for your mind. For inspiration he traveled all over the world with partner and co-founder Gabriel Olszewski. “From the luxury fitness studios in Los Angeles to yoga courses in Sri Lanka.” Once home, Melisse knew he wanted to bring those two extremes together. That became Sanctum: a hip sports lesson with a Buddhist touch. In the workout – Melisse prefers to call it one movement – different elements come together: high-intensity training, yoga, martial arts and mindfulness. The goal is to discharge your body and mind through repetitive movements to music and breathwork.

By now everyone is on their mat. Melisse has taken a seat on stage in front of the group, all eyes are on him. Through the candles around him, his shadow reaches to the ridge of the church. His headphones are on. The group follows. “Why are you here?” I hear in my ear. He asks everyone, but the headphones make it seem like he just wants to wake me up. “What do you want to get out of the next hour? „This hour is yours.” He himself has a theme that he wants to dwell on. „To be free from desire.” Because if you long for something, you can’t possibly live in the here and now.

Moments later squat, lunge and planks we’re having fun. Melisse asks us to hop from left to right on the mat. It feels crazy, but nothing is crazy, I hear him say in my ear. “Use your voice,” he encourages further. “Hah, hah”, he makes a discharged sound with every arm and leg movement. It doesn’t take long before wild puffs, moans or ecstatic screams are everywhere.

Healing yourself in Ibiza

Who really the full sanctuary experience wants, goes on one retreat abroad, where, in addition to the lessons, you also sing mantras, receive thermotherapy and participate in a fire ceremony and breathing workshop. “Incredibly healing,” says Emma Hooper, 32, one of the participants at the Dominicus Church. When she struggled with bulimia last year and broke up with her boyfriend, she booked a retreat in Ibiza. “I have never felt so powerful and carefree.”

However, that healing effect comes with a price tag. The five-day Ibiza retreat costs 4,000 euros. The ‘regular’ lessons in the church – which are attended by sixty to two hundred people at a time – can be booked for 20 euros a time, or via a OneFit subscription. Sanctum must above all remain accessible, says Melisse. “And hip, sexy and fun.” But it doesn’t really catch on among people under the age of 23, he sees. “They want to have a blast at Rocycle. Sanctum often goes a little too deep for them.”

Is your body tired? So what!

Still, the festival atmosphere and the trained self-love preaching instructor are initially reminiscent of Rocycle, one of the fitness trends of the 21st century. At Rocycle you also move on exciting beats, it says ‘fun and happiness‘ is central and a trainer blasts rousing texts into space. Rocycle also wants to be more than just a fitness lesson. It transforms the way you look and feelcan be read on the Instagram page of the Amsterdam Rocycle studio We Are Vélo.

Fitness today is no longer just about getting your fat percentage down, says wellness and fitness trend watcher Angélique Heijligers. It’s all about meaning and mental health now. Especially after the pandemic, people want to work on themselves on a deeper level than just the body, she sees. “It is now not done, for example, as a fitness instructor ‘No pain, no gain’ to call.” Texts like You don’t have to be perfect are more appropriate.

No owner-occupied house, but a luxury gym

Where better to practice meaningful sport than in a church. It is therefore no coincidence that gyms throughout the Netherlands are establishing themselves in churches, says Koen Breedveld, sports sociologist and lecturer Impact of Sport at the Hogeschool The Hague. “The churches are emptying, but the desire for connection is greater than ever. Going for something together and believing in it, that is now often found in sports.”

There is also an important difference between church and gym, says Breedveld. Where all walks of life come together in the church, exclusive groups form in gyms. “A gym membership is often part of one’s social status. Those who have a lot of money choose the expensive gym with an exclusive look.”

For example, a subscription to the popular gym Saints & Stars (also located in a church), one of the most expensive gyms in Amsterdam, costs 120 euros per month. For that you get luxurious changing rooms with expensive Dyson hair dryers and an ice-cold towel with eucalyptus scent after class. Trend watcher Heijligers: “The ‘oat milk elite’ may not have the prospect of a permanent job or owner-occupied house, but they are happy to pay the top price for a luxurious sports experience.”

Cheaper than therapy

In the Dominicus Church, dance music turns into Vivaldi. Melissa’s movements slow down. A girl grabs her neck with a painful face. “Is your body tired? So what!” he says to the whole group. “That just means it requires extra love and attention.” Two white T-shirts walk solemnly forward between the mats, an incense bearer in hand. “You must think you have ended up in a cult,” says Melisse laughing into his microphone. “But you are exactly where you should be right now.”

After declaring love for ourselves in ‘child’s pose’ while Leonard Cohen You Want It Darker sings, it’s time for ‘free dancing’. The whole church is jumping. A man in front of me smiles at me. “This was a lesson to me,” he says sweaty.

The church empties, but two women still linger. Gitte Verweel (58) and Constance Huel (59) come here to “heal and enjoy”, they say. Verweel: “We may be a bit older, but we are going wild.” Huel: “It’s just as much fun as a festival. And cheaper than therapy.”