Drunk Yoga® & The Power of Play

In September of 2017 I walked into a bar in Lower Manhattan—(where so many great ideas begin).

It was a bar I used to work at just after college, so I was catching up with the owner, my old boss, and he said, “You’re a yoga teacher now? You should teach me yoga. I can’t even touch my toes.” To prove it, he bent over and reached for his toes, but surprisingly…he made contact, and remarked, “Huh. I guess I can do it when I’m drunk.”

(Cue lightbulb)

I playfully exclaimed, “Let’s do Drunk Yoga®!”

He laughed.

I interrupted, excitedly, “No, I’m serious! I have an idea. Can I teach yoga classes here at the bar with a glass of wine in-hand?”

He said, “Sure,” and thus the Drunk Yoga® revolution began.

So I got to work, marrying my experience and training in experimental theater from NYU with yoga to create a 90-minute immersive yoga party, my primary goal being to make yoga more fun and accessible.

I felt excited to start something novel–more authentic to what I really wanted to do. I had been struggling to find a sense of belonging in my conventional acting career, auditioning for commercials and small parts on TV shows day in and day out; I was also feeling burnt out from teaching 15 yoga classes a week at high-end gyms. I recognized that the aspect about acting I loved most was using live storytelling to help people better understand their relationship to the world around them, and that this intersected with what I loved most about teaching yoga–facilitating live experiences that helped people better understand their relationship to themselves. But at that point in my career, I was using my hard-earned NYU acting degree to sell toothpaste in commercials and teach wealthy New Yorkers how to sculpt their abs. I had been feeling displaced, and was excited to begin carving out a new space–albeit provocative–that merged my worlds of entertainment and wellness with more autonomy.

However, nobody came to my first Drunk Yoga® class. Or the second…or the third. I was about to give up, reasoning, “I guess nobody likes wine and yoga–at least not together.” In one last ditch effort, I called a journalist friend who wrote for Gothamist and asked if her editor would approve an article about Drunk Yoga®. She said, “‘Drunk Yoga?’ Absolutely.” So I brought her into a “class”--which consisted of her, her sister, and a couple of my own friends who I had begged to come for the article and photo. I told her my plans for what the class would entail–you know…for when I finally had customers. She wrote a killer article, and I was hopeful that I’d gain a handful of students from it, maybe even earn a few extra hundred bucks a month.

What happened next I could have never anticipated. Her article immediately went viral garnering millions of views. From there, I was quickly contacted by Refinery29, New York Post, International Business Times, DailyMail UK, ELLE, Popsugar, INSIDER, 60SecondDocs and more. My classes sold out for months. Individuals from across the globe contacted me inquiring about franchising and investing in Drunk Yoga®. I even got a book deal.

What started as a playful, serendipitous, admittedly not-entirely-sober idea in the back of a bar quickly turned into a global phenomenon. *Here, I want to note that the name “Drunk Yoga®” is not literal, of course. Each participant was offered 1-2 glasses of wine, or a non-alcoholic beverage. The name is suggestive, not descriptive, as my trademark lawyer will have you know. I clarified often over the next several years that I intoxicated the convention of yoga by making it social rather than exclusively introspective–not the yogi.

Speaking of yogis, the viral press didn’t come without backlash—from the yogis. They didn’t like the name Drunk Yoga®–understandably so. Adding wine to yoga, regardless of the reason, is sort of…antithetical to traditional practices. The hate mail poured in, along with endless, abusive trolling on social media (I know, #namaste) calling me everything from “a basic selfish white woman culturally appropriating an ancient tradition” to a “whore” and my personal favorite, “an alcoholic milkmaid who likes to stretch.” I naively thought that by calling the experience Drunk Yoga®, everyone would understand the nuance. Like the brand name Virgin doesn’t actually mean people who work there are virgins.

For obvious reasons, the backlash was devastating, because most of the messages accused me–in some form or another–of not caring about yoga, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. Getting trolled publicly is incredibly isolating; I felt helpless, as if the world thought I was something that I wasn’t, and there was nothing I could say or do that could un-offend people. I hadn’t meant for it to get this far.

Even worse, a couple of owners of yoga studios I worked for communicated that if I continued adding alcohol to yoga, they could no longer associate with me. And, my acting agent made it clear that if I continued to prioritize yoga that she’d drop me as a client.

So I had a decision to make. And fast. I thought there was a brief window for me to say, “Actually? Just kidding! Drunk Yoga® was just a joke! Never mind!” and go back to life as it was, safe and sound. I feared pursuing Drunk Yoga® would solifidify my own ostracization from both the acting and yoga worlds, never fully “belonging” anywhere. At the same time, as I sat with this decision, I acknowledged the only reason I would say “no” to this call to adventure would be because I was afraid of upsetting people; I decided that wasn’t a good enough reason.

So, I put on my “big girl” yoga leggings and said to nobody in particular, “Let’s do this.” Soon after, a journalist from the International Business Times called me asking, “Are you Eli Walker? CEO of Drunk Yoga®?” I responded, “Stand by,” and quickly Googled what “CEO” stood for (because I truly had no idea what I was doing as a new business owner). After a quick search, I picked up the phone and said, “Sure!”

When I started Drunk Yoga®, I broke the rules on purpose. Yoga is sacred to many, almost dogmatic, but by adding wine, I wasn’t undermining the practice—I was reframing it. What if we approached yoga, and life, with humor and lightness? What if we let go of the seriousness that traps us in self-judgment and fear, and instead laughed at our mistakes, fumbled through poses, and toasted to our imperfections? Drunk Yoga® created a space where it didn’t matter if you couldn’t hold a pose perfectly or lost your balance after a sip. It was about having fun, connecting, and playing, and in doing so, we built a community where we belonged simply by showing up as we were.

I would later learn that it was in the very process of making the decision to move forward with building the company that I created belonging for myself. In our modern world, belonging isn’t about “fitting in” with a group identity—it’s about finding integrity in the space between ourselves and the world around us. By committing to choices that reflect our values, we create new containers for true belonging to arise. Belonging isn’t a fixed status; it’s something that happens in real-time, like in a Drunk Yoga® class where play sparks connection in unexpected ways. In other words, belonging isn't about conforming to societal expectations or pleasing others, but about the freedom to create our own structures and rewrite our own rules. Through play, I learned to tear down the constructs that didn’t serve me and rebuild my world, and Drunk Yoga® became the playground where I practiced this approach.

Work Hard, Play Harder

Play continued to be instrumental in the development of Drunk Yoga®. As I began teaching full classes, what I encountered were students conditioned to “stay in their own lane” on a yoga mat. Reluctant to talk, look at or engage with anyone–much less “cheers” their neighbor–for fear of breaking conventional “yoga rules,” my students were reserved and cautious. It was difficult to maintain my original vision of a high-energy, party-like atmosphere as a result of people’s preconceived notions of what a yoga class should be. This was a problem because without horizontal engagement, my students were simply drinking wine and doing yoga poses, missing  the point–(which, again, was to get over themselves and enjoy feeling a part of communal experience that transcended themselves.)

Instead of fighting against the current, I surrendered to the moment, and I naturally started asking questions to individuals throughout class as we moved through the sequences to guide them “up and over themselves.”

“Sarah, any fun plans this weekend?” turned into, “Hey front row, what are you binge-ing right now on Netflix?” which turned into, “Okay, everyone shout the name of your favorite Spice Girl on the count of 3!” These lighthearted but sincere questions allowed students to feel safe to be themselves. However, as you could imagine, the more relaxed students felt, the more it led to overly-generous wine pours and extraneous sipping. To problem-solve this, I created “rules” for safety that played like drinking games.

Here are a few famous ones:

1. No sipping unless the teacher instructs you to  do so. If you do accidentally sip out of turn, you must give the person next to you a compliment.
2. If you spill on your mat, you must give yourself a compliment.
3. If you mix up your left and right, you must say something you’re grateful for.
4. No refills during class. If you spill and must refill, you must ask permission first, and then pour your wine while doing a yoga pose while we take a photo for Instagram.

…among others.

These rules playfully structured boundaries and, subsequently, order and safety. And of course, when we feel safe, we can ease into belonging.

Through gamifying yoga, I was able to break through the seriousness of the “4th wall” (a concept we’ll dive into more deeply in a later chapter) that usually sits between teacher and student, as well as student and student, so that each participant could experience joy through shared belonging.

After deliberately harnessing the power of play, I developed my Drunk Yoga® teacher training program to teach yoga teachers how to host a belonging-building yoga party rather than teach a yoga class, and together, we grew Drunk Yoga® through live events in bars, hotels, co-working spaces and offices.

When the pandemic began, harnessing the power of play became even more crucial.

Cut to March of 2020, when the pandemic took hold, I faced the challenge of swiftly transitioning our corporate events to a virtual format. As you now know, the nature of our interactive yoga parties relied heavily on participation, which required students to turn on their Zoom cameras. However, practicing yoga in front of coworkers from their living rooms can be daunting and vulnerable, so most students refused—an obstacle that threatened my livelihood.

Knowing that structured play creates safety (and subsequently belonging that inspires engagement), I further refined and codified new virtual Drunk Yoga® drinking games and rules to account for technological obstacles and retrained my instructors accordingly:

1. If your pet or a child walks in front of the screen during class, you must take yourself off mute and introduce them to the group.

2. If you’re the last person to put your cup on your head, you have to make up a dance move.

…among others. 

And it worked. As soon as I tailored our yoga drinking games to the new container of a virtual class, participants naturally wanted to turn on their cameras–opening themselves up to be seen and engage.

Play, as I came to realize, is not just a source of entertainment. It’s the secret ingredient to individual engagement within the collective that acts as a catalyst, breaking down imaginary barriers and bringing us into the present moment–the only time and space that belonging can flourish. It’s where big ideas happen, where the limitations of the logical, predictable world fall away, and a new sense of freedom emerges. In play, we create environments that don’t rely on the rigid structures of our industries, our social hierarchies, or even our past experiences. Play is the ultimate equalizer because, within it, there are no rules but those we agree upon together. In that agreement, we build a shared sense of trust, safety, and eventually—belonging.

What exactly is “play”?

In a broad sense, play can be defined as an activity or mindset that is undertaken for its own intrinsic enjoyment rather than a specific external outcome. It is an essential aspect of human nature that transcends age, status, or circumstance, existing as a form of free expression, exploration, and creativity. Play is often seen as a space where the constraints of ordinary life—such as roles, expectations, and responsibilities—are loosened, allowing individuals to step into a realm of possibility, spontaneity, and connection.

Different types of play include:

1. Exploratory Play: Engaging with the world through curiosity, testing boundaries, and discovering new things. Exploratory play allows individuals to experience the unknown without the pressure of fixed outcomes. It's about being in a state of wonder, where each new discovery opens the door to more questions. In this form of play, uncertainty becomes an adventure, and growth arises through exploration itself.

2. Creative Play: The act of using imagination to invent, design, and create new worlds, ideas, or objects. Creative play is a form of generative energy, where the mind interacts with the infinite potential of what could be. It connects us to the process of creation, aligning with the philosophical idea that humans are co-creators of their reality. By engaging in creative play, we access the power to reshape our inner and outer worlds.

3. Social Play: Play that occurs through interaction with others, such as games, conversations, or collaborative storytelling. Social play is an opportunity to transcend individual isolation and step into collective experience. Philosopher Martin Buber’s concept of the I-Thou relationship reflects the way play creates deep connections by inviting participants to engage authentically. In social play, the boundaries between self and other dissolve, fostering a sense of belonging and unity.

4. Ritualistic Play: Play that involves repeated, structured, or symbolic actions, often rooted in tradition or meaning. Ritualistic play connects us to ancient wisdom and shared cultural heritage. It's a form of play that carries significance, where each gesture or action holds deeper meaning. This can be seen in religious or spiritual rituals, as well as theater, where play becomes a pathway to transcendence and connection with the sacred.

5. Liminal Play: Play that occurs in the space between boundaries, where conventional rules of time, space, and identity are suspended. Liminal play exists in what anthropologists call "betwixt and between" states—moments of transition where normal life is paused, and individuals can reinvent themselves. Think of the transformative potential of festivals, carnivals, or rites of passage. In these spaces, the freedom to play becomes a form of liberation, where the old self dissolves, and new possibilities emerge.

6. Competitive Play: Play driven by rules, goals, and the desire to win, such as in sports or board games. Though competitive play may seem oppositional to collaboration, it also serves a higher purpose. Philosophically, it reflects the dualities inherent in life—victory and loss, challenge and mastery, self and other. Through competition, we learn about perseverance, resilience, and the joy of testing our limits within the structure of shared rules.

7. Deep Play: Play that involves risk, intensity, and heightened emotional or physical stakes. Deep play, as philosopher Jeremy Bentham observed, moves beyond simple amusement into profound engagement. This could be seen in extreme sports, immersive theater, or any activity where one’s whole being is invested. Deep play teaches us about surrender and flow—how to lose ourselves in the moment while expanding the boundaries of what we perceive as possible.

8. Spiritual Play: Play that connects us to higher consciousness or the divine. Spiritual play taps into the mystical and transcendent aspects of human experience. Through meditation, dance, or even sacred laughter, this type of play provides access to an altered state where the mundane and the spiritual collide. It reflects the joy of existence itself, echoing philosophies from Zen Buddhism to indigenous shamanic traditions, where play is seen as a sacred act that unites the human with the cosmos.

9. Parallel Play: A type of play where individuals engage in activities side by side, without directly interacting but still sharing the same space. It is most commonly observed in young children, but it also occurs in adults in various forms. Parallel play involves a sense of shared presence without the pressure of direct engagement, creating an environment where participants can be both together and independent.

Ultimately, play is more than an activity—it is a state of being that transcends external limitations and opens us to our most essential, authentic selves. In play, we are reminded that life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be experienced. It is a tool for connection, transformation, and joy—a dance between order and chaos, seriousness and lightness, individuality and collective belonging. Through the lens of play, we can glimpse the world anew and find our place within it.

Also? Play is vital to our physical health, productivity, and social well-being.

According to the Harvard Business Review, one theory is that we play because it’s therapeutic — and there’s research to back that up. “At work, play has been found to speed up learning, enhance productivity and increase job satisfaction, as well as enhance bonding and communication. Play is a basic human need as essential to our well-being as sleep, so when we’re low on play, our minds and bodies notice."

Most of us are low on “play” in our lives because we run on autopilot, living within familiar systems and unwittingly following oppressive structures and values of individualism that hold us back from our power…and often from each other.

But–as exemplified through Drunk Yoga®–by changing just one aspect of a “rule”, taking one step outside the memorized societal dance in conventional gathering spaces, the system crumbles and we experience ourselves and each other in a whole new way. Whether it’s asking an unexpected question in a meeting or introducing games and stories into a networking event, we branch off into unscripted territory where connection and belonging can occur.

As Drunk Yoga grew, I realized that this approach to play wasn’t just limited to yoga. It was a framework for how to live, how to lead, and how to cultivate belonging in any context. This was the seed that grew into the P.L.A.Y. Method—a way to bring the power of play into all aspects of life, both personal and professional.

The P.L.A.Y. Method is rooted in the idea that belonging can be deliberately cultivated. It’s not something you stumble upon, nor is it something that just happens when the conditions are right. Belonging is something you create when you’re willing to play with the world around you, when you’re willing to step into a role where you influence the environment and the people within it.

The first step, Place, refers to the physical spaces we inhabit and everything movable, malleable or changeable within them. In Drunk Yoga®, the place was a bar-turned-yoga-studio, transformed by the sense of play we brought into it. The same goes for any environment—a boardroom, a classroom, or even a Zoom call. The space must be set up intentionally, with the understanding that the container you create directly influences the experience. It’s about creating a space where people feel safe enough to take risks, see a new perspective, to laugh, to fail, and to try again. In this process, our “places” empower us rewrite our individual stories into collective narratives where belonging can bloom.

Next, Language refers to the words and tone we use to engage with one another, both verbally and in writing, as well as our commitment to an experience. In Drunk Yoga®, the language was casual, lighthearted, and inclusive. The language we choose in any environment must invite others in–ideally authentic, approachable and clear about the rules of engagement. Language creates the foundation of trust–crucial for belonging.

Acknowledgement is about the unspoken or spoken truths we all agree upon when we enter into any kind of group or community. Here, we acknowledge reality by naming the unsaid, asking connective questions and breaking down invisible social contracts that act as barriers to connection. In Drunk Yoga®, the agreement was simple: We’re here to have fun, and it’s okay to be imperfect. In the corporate world or in leadership, agreements are more formal, but they must still foster a sense of shared ownership. Accountability is the opposite of entitlement; when people feel that they have a say in the “rules,” they’re more likely to engage and to feel like they belong.

Finally, You is about getting over yourself and aligning with the laws of nature—acknowledging that you're not above them, but part of a larger system. It’s embracing radical self-care, not for indulgence but to keep yourself balanced, so you can show up fully for yourself and others. When you surrender the ego and accept your role within this bigger picture, you open space to create true belonging. By tending to your inner needs and recognizing your place in the world, you foster trust, vulnerability, and connection, allowing play, collaboration, and growth to naturally follow.

Through play, we aren’t just passing time or distracting ourselves from the serious business of life—we are creating the conditions for something much deeper. Play teaches us that we can craft new worlds, new relationships, and new possibilities for ourselves and others. When we embrace play as a method for living and working, we stop waiting for belonging to happen to us and start creating it for ourselves.

Drunk Yoga® may have started as a playful twist on a traditional practice–a lighthearted experiment to make yoga more approachable to a broader audience–but it quickly became a blueprint for how to bring play into all areas of life to spark belonging. I found myself in an entirely new world, one where laughter, curiosity, and experimentation weren’t just byproducts of fun—they were the very mechanisms that unlocked something deeper in all of us. The P.L.A.Y. Method is the culmination of that journey, a way to take the lessons learned in those playful spaces and apply them to create structure, safety, and engagement wherever we go.

In essence, play is the container in which big ideas are born. When we give ourselves permission to play, we unlock not only our own potential but the potential of those around us. It’s through play that we connect, that we create, and that we belong.