The global wellness economy has reached a kind of fever pitch. Sprawling across segments such as biohacking for longevity, weight loss treatments and wellness tourism, the Global Wellness Institute puts it at almost $7-trillion. McKinsey, defining it with fewer categories, arrives at a more realistic figure of $2-trillion.Their respective reports sync, however, in detailing the enormous growth over the past decade, as wellness concepts increasingly overlap with beauty, health, nutrition and anti-ageing products. And the trends continue to proliferate. Ozone clinics now punt more than 50 benefits, which supposedly boost vitality and lifespan; intravenous vitamin drip lounges are springing up in all upmarket malls; everybody at the gym is shaking giant bottles to prep their pre- or postworkout proteins. And no supplement cupboard is properly stocked without a bottle of bovine colostrum as the ultimate gut health support.Crowded out by myriad influencer-driven fads, it’s progressively harder to identify the genuinely efficacious products and practices. Wellness may be on everyone’s minds, but we need to apply some clear thinking to separate the hype from the helpful.Meditation, mindfulness and yoga — ancient wellness wisdoms rooted in Buddhism and Hinduism — are proven to benefit mental and physical health and overall well-being. But let’s be honest: it’s inordinately difficult to meditate, and while yoga isn’t as cold and clinical as having an IV drip in an arm or lying in an ozone steam capsule, the stillness and inner work come with a high boredom factor.A small health and leisure hub in Cape Town, One Flow Yoga and Wellness Social Club, cleverly incorporates the positives of time-honoured mind-body practices into a more dynamic experience. By fusing mindfulness and yoga with another relatively new wellness regimen, contrast therapy, One Flow has designed one-hour sessions that are moderately demanding and appreciably fun.By fusing mindfulness and yoga with another relatively new wellness regimen, contrast therapy, One Flow has designed one-hour sessions that are moderately demanding and appreciably fun.Branded as “sauna journeys”, the name is slightly misleading because contrast therapy involves alternating between hot and cold temperatures, and the cold water plunge part is just as important as the sauna. The medical science behind the idea of extreme temperature switching is that heat boosts blood flow, while cold constricts it. Alternating this vasodilation and vasoconstriction exercises the blood vessels, thereby reducing inflammation. This isn’t something to dismiss lightly: chronic inflammation is recognised as a silent internal condition that, like high blood pressure, may be a ticking time bomb. So contrast therapy may be beneficial regardless of whether or not muscles ache from sitting behind a computer for eight hours a day or from running six times a week.The journey idea developed from her realisation that contrast therapy’s transpositions could be mapped according to the arc of a yoga class. (123RF / georgerudy ) The brainchild of certified yoga instructor Jeanae Dumas, One Flow has been open for more than a year. The journey idea developed from her realisation that contrast therapy’s transpositions could be mapped according to the arc of a yoga class.In person, she presents a study in contrasts herself. Platinum blonde, statuesque and composed, first impressions are of austerity. But there’s a soulfulness in her demeanour as participants gather: she checks in individually with almost everyone — a word here, a light touch there, smiles of recognition to the regulars — to set a warm, reassuring tone.Preparing for the journey, the L-shaped waiting area is comfortable, a chill zone where participants chat quietly or start decompressing after the day’s work. Some close their eyes, others — newcomers like me, perhaps — glance around, slightly trepidatious. Vulnerability isn’t natural or easy for everyone, especially among strangers, in close confines, and clad only in swimming trunks. Dumas gives a brief introduction to the session, reassuring everyone that “even if you’re afraid, we’re here to hold you”.Later, she explains that the 10-15 minutes of meeting time before the session are specifically built in to “help people lean in, chat with others and settle so that they have the psychological space to expand”.Enter the dragonStepping into the sauna, the heat hits hard. But this is a very spacious one, so the physical confines are not claustrophobic. Straight away, Dumas starts to guide seated movements, interspersed with brief mindfulness techniques and breathing patterns, all in fluctuating rhythms. “Breathe and hold … and exhale,” she exhorts, adding an encouragement to groan or grunt, open-mouthed. I’m reminded of a strange ritual I once witnessed in the East: for about a minute, everyone among a large family shouted at no-one and seemingly pointlessly. It was a letting go, I was informed — preparing the mind, body and spirit for the evening meal and night time relaxation. Now, doing this with strangers, streaming with sweat, I’m surprised how this feels awkward only briefly, and then liberating.Music sets the pace of the various sauna experience phases. Alternately calming, energising or hypnotic, it catalyses a participative atmosphere; there’s connection now, as smiles flash across the chamber’s mellow light. “Every doubt falls away like shed skin,” sing Magic Win. “Every heartbeat is a teacher / Every breath is a sacred rhythm / I can do everything.”Empowered, everyone makes it comfortably through the 20 minutes of the first sauna session.Cold truthsI swim in the Atlantic, I think, so the cold plunge should be a cinch. But the transition elicits a sharp, involuntary gasp, a lungful telling me of my folly. The shockwave takes a few seconds to smooth out, settling into a prickliness, like pins and needles. The cold has apparently ambushed my synapses, too; then, from a distance but coming closer, I hear the instruction to breathe and exhale purposefully. I feel Dumas behind me, a gentle hand between my shoulder blades: “Relax, unclench your fists,” she says. This helps. Bodily numbness has set in, but it’s oddly comfortable, and my mind seems to be floating back to me. I’m making it, I say to myself.Two-and-a-half minutes have gone by.And then it’s back to the sauna. After the cold, the enveloping, welcoming warmth is like a cocoon. Blood starts to flow again, and a short while into the second session of guided movements and breathwork, so too does the sweat. Dumas has a playful trick as a finale: a giant “snowball”, from which she tosses handfuls onto everyone. The sensation is like refreshing rain, the aromatherapy scent like petrichor.Ultrarunners talk of their quest for the challenge of pain and the sense of euphoria when they pass through that pain cave. Intense sweat and cold immersion seem to trigger a similarly transcendental feeling for some. A few participants are apparently in an alpha brainwave, meditative state. One is crying — quietly and happily, apparently — in a wave of emotional release and a wash of endorphins.Indeed, everyone looks different now than when we were waiting for the experience to begin. The path to wellness and inner peace involves much more than a one-hour sauna journey, but there’s a shared feeling of serenity as we sip refreshing iced tea. One Flow doesn’t make wellbeing overclaims involving enlightenment or spirituality. So let’s call it an afterglow.