FEATURES • DESTINATIONS
A story of rhythm, rest, and returning home at The Yoga Barn
Words by The Punch Editors
Photography by The Punch & The Yoga Barn
Before The Yoga Barn was a landmark for seekers and healers, it was just a patch of jungle off Hanuman Street–humming with insects, and thick with the quiet tension of possibility. And before Megan Pappenheim was the woman guiding its growth, she was a teenager in New York City, bent over in downward dog at thirteen, chasing the pulse of something ancient through music, movement, and myth.
Megan arrived in Bali in the early 90s with a university program and a hunger that classrooms couldn’t quiet. She studied ethnomusicology, anthropology, Balinese arts. Furthermore, she listened more than she spoke. She watched ceremonies unravel in smoke and shadow. She stayed. Left. Came back. Then stayed again.
By her twenties, Megan was losing money the way some people collect art–passionately, with abandon. She was running a fair-trade handicraft business with her Balinese husband, Kadek, threading the island’s artistic traditions into something sustainable. But there was an absence she couldn’t ignore. No place to move. No pulse to meet hers. “I can’t move to Balinese music,” she says with a laugh. “It’s too fast, too sacred. I needed a beat that invited me in.” So she brought African drums. She held small dance classes in borrowed rooms. She dreamt aloud.
“I told Kadek, one day, when I’m old and wise–maybe in my fifties–I’ll build a space. A center for movement. A home for community.”
SOUL OVER SCALE
The land came first. Then the emails. Then the friends who wired money without seeing a blueprint. When things faltered, Charlie arrived–a third partner who couldn’t quite see the vision, but trusted her heart anyway. The Yoga Barn was never a business plan. It was a heartbeat, stretched into soil and studio space.
Today, it’s a village of possibility. Bamboo walls. Open-air halls. Smooth floors worn by thousands of bare feet. It may be the largest wellness center in the world by studio count, but numbers are never what mattered. “It’s not about targets,” Megan says. “It’s about transformation. Sometimes, all it takes is a butterfly flying by to shift something in someone.”
The teachers here don’t chase algorithms. They rarely post. They teach because they must. Some have been here for decades. Their devotion is quiet, but persistent–like water smoothing stone. And then there is Kadek–Balinese to his bones–who helps shape every space, chooses every material, and keeps the ceremony alive with daily offerings and biannual blessings. The lizards, the monkeys, the flowering frangipani–they’re not interruptions. They’re reminders.
From the beginning, The Yoga Barn has been a sanctuary stitched into the natural world. Cleaning products are mostly chemical-free. Construction is done with local hands and local materials. “We used to be 100% natural,” Megan says. “Now it’s probably 75%. But we’re always trying.” And then there is Kadek–Balinese to his bones–who helps shape every space, chooses every material, and keeps the ceremony alive with daily offerings and biannual blessings. The lizards, the monkeys, the flowering frangipani–they’re not interruptions. They’re reminders.
WHEN BREATH BECOMES ACTION
But the work doesn’t stop at the property line. In East Bali, Megan and Kadek launched Bali ReGreen, planting bamboo to heal the land and bring water back to a community long forgotten. Bamboo, as they learned, reshapes ecosystems. It draws moisture into the soil, calls forth life, births rivers. “It was a long-term play,” she says. “And it worked.”
In 2008, after learning of an HIV epidemic in North Bali, Megan launched AYO! Kita Bicara HIV & AIDS, a teen education campaign built on her memory of America’s HIV crisis in the 80s. With help from Bali Spirit Festival, they developed a curriculum that reached across five Indonesian islands. “We did it because no one else was. Because we had to.”
The programs have shifted over time. These days, the focus leans more toward the arts–offering free festival workshops to Indonesian students, supporting local musicians, hosting gamelan classes. “Wellness isn’t just green juice and yoga pants,” Megan says. “It’s culture. It’s rhythm. It’s expression.” As Ubud grows crowded, Megan’s vision grows quieter. New studios are being built–but so are places with nothing at all. Just silence. “People are overwhelmed,” she says. “They don’t need more. They need stillness. They need breath.”
A PLACE THAT CHOSE TO STAY
She’s often asked if The Yoga Barn could expand–another one in Thailand? Sri Lanka? LA? But she shakes her head. “This place is alive. It has a soul. You can’t clone a soul.”
The Yoga Barn was never meant to be a brand. It’s a response. A devotion. A return. Megan never set out to lead anything. She followed a thread, tugged from childhood, woven with loss, grit, movement, and love. What exists now is not the result of ambition–but of listening. Of staying. Of knowing when to surrender to the land beneath your feet.
EXPLORE THE FULL STORY IN UNCOVERED BALI BOOK
Uncovered Bali is a collective project showcasing the sustainable journeys of carefully selected Bali businesses to a global audience. Each story highlights the unique impact these enterprises have on preserving Bali’s cultural and environmental heritage while driving positive change. Through this project, we aim to inspire global leaders, travelers, and communities to embrace more sustainable practices and appreciate the powerful role that local businesses play in shaping a better future.
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