Since October, hundreds of Londoners have been gathering in parks across the city not to walk or have a picnic — but to scream.

What began as a simple idea from former corporate lawyer Mon Sharx, inspired by the scream clubs she saw going viral in the US, quickly drew more than 600 people to an inaugural session. The concept has since evolved into Scream Squad, a community-driven club where collective yelling replaces the aesthetic Pilates sets and matcha rituals that have come to define contemporary wellness culture.

Sharx, who first tried primal scream therapy on her therapist’s recommendation in 2023, says the practice releases suppressed emotion through uninhibited vocal expression. Rooted in ancient ritual, but long dismissed as fringe, it offered her a clear alternative to consumer-led wellness. “I was interested in moving away from buying wellness and more toward feeling wellness,” she says — a sentiment that resonates as traditional self-optimization practices become increasingly exhausting.

Indeed, for the past decade, wellness has been defined by optimization. Consumers have been encouraged to protein-max, track macros, biohack sleep and monitor every bodily function through an ever-expanding ecosystem of wearable technology. Oura rings promise better health through data. Full-body scans like Prenuvo offer early detection and control.

In response, a growing number of consumers are turning away from hyper-quantification and toward ancient healing systems that prioritize balance over performance. On TikTok, practices once dismissed as niche are gaining traction at scale: needle-free acupressure technique ear seeding, rooted in Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), has gone viral in recent months, while somatic therapies, including breathwork and primal scream sessions, are increasingly reframed as tools for nervous system regulation. Even in fashion, the shift is visible. When Amelia Gray and Rachel Sennott appeared on covers of The Face and Perfect Magazine, respectively, with red circular marks on their backs, they signaled the growing visibility of cupping, a TCM practice used to support circulation.

To mark the shift, The Future Laboratory coined the term “rhythmic health” — predicted to be one of the defining wellness trends of the year, according to the forecasting agency’s 2026 Future Forecast report. The framework positions the body and the mind not as something to optimize, but as something to align with, encouraging consumers to work with natural cycles like circadian rhythms, hormone fluctuations, seasonal change, breath patterns and nervous system states, rather than pushing the body through productivity tools.

“We are finally recognizing that the body regulates through nature, not force,” says intuitive healer Sarah Bradden and founder of The Bradden Method, a nervous system-led practice rooted in TCM, acupuncture, somatic regulation and energetic medicine. “Human biology is rhythmic by design — circadian cycles, hormonal waves, seasonal shifts, breath, digestion, nervous system oscillation. Ancient healing systems were built around this truth. They don’t override the body; they listen to it.”

Burnout as the catalyst

The rise of rhythmic health is inseparable from the collapse of optimization. “The increased demand [in ancient healing practices] is a direct response to burnout,” says Bradden. “Biohacking promised control, but it delivered exhaustion. Wellness tech told us to track everything, but tracking didn’t make us feel better, it just gave us more data to stress about.” After years of living against natural rhythms, whether through artificial light, constant stimulation or uninterrupted productivity, Bradden argues that many people are now “dysregulated at a cellular level”. Somatic and traditional practices, she says, resonate precisely because they restore what the modern world has stripped away.

Ancient healing systems such as Traditional Chinese Medicine, Ayurveda and Thai Traditional Medicine (TTM) understand health as cyclical and seasonal, rather than linear. “These systems remind us that we’re not meant to be ‘on’ all the time. Healing isn’t linear, and the body is deeply connected to nature,” says Charlotte Yau, founder of TCM-inspired skincare and wellness brand Muihood, which is stocked by Liberty and Cult Beauty. “Mainstream wellness messaging often focuses on results. ‘Do this to get that’; it’s transactional. Our approach is about connection and giving others a new perspective through TCM to help them understand their body better.”

Photo: Courtesy of Muihood

Economic pressure has also accelerated the shift. “People are struggling to keep up,” says Sharx. Optimization trends such as red light therapy, cold plunges and cryotherapy are expensive, with single sessions costing up to £200 at boutique studios, while influencers’ highly aesthetic morning routines, featuring vibration plates and expensive skincare, reinforces the idea that wellness must be bought.

The appeal of rhythmic health lies in its refusal of that logic. “People are waking up and realizing that healing is far more accessible than we’ve been led to believe,” Sharx says. “It’s small changes — simple food swaps, grounding moments like taking a walk. Wellness doesn’t have to mean dropping £200 on a juice cleanse and an Alo set. Sometimes, it really can be as simple as going to scream in a field with your best friend.”

How brands are translating rhythm into business

For consumers, rhythmic health is less about adopting a single product than learning how to participate in a system. Entry points are often experiential and educational, from guided rituals and full moon workshops to practitioner-led workshops that explain how the body responds to cycles over time. This emphasis on participation, rather than purchase, is reshaping how brands approach both product development and positioning.

Muihood offers one of the clearest examples of this translation in action. Founded in 2021, the brand is rooted explicitly in TCM, rejecting the ingredients-led optimization cycles that dominate much of the beauty industry. “I launched Muihood because I was tired of the obsession with quick fixes,” says Yau. “Everything was about the next miracle ingredient, the next thing to buy to optimize yourself. It felt relentless and disconnected from how bodies actually work.”

Muihood’s product range reflects that philosophy. Rather than promising instant transformation, its offerings are designed to support bodily processes over time. Products such as the Mugwort Bath Soak are positioned through TCM principles — in this case, circulation support — encouraging ritualized, repeat use rather than one-off intervention. When the brand launched, the market was firmly dominated by active-led optimization narratives. But over the past two years, Yau has observed a notable shift. “People aren’t just buying products anymore,” she says. “They’re asking about menstrual cycle care and seasonal transitions.”

Photo: Courtesy of Muihood

That shift is visible across the wider wellness landscape. In the US, Moon Juice and Anima Mundi frame herbalism as daily rhythm support rather than detox culture, while WTHN brings acupuncture and TCM into modern clinic formats with a strong educational layer. In beauty, the same logic is reshaping how products are formulated and positioned. Brands are increasingly aligning skincare and haircare with the body’s biological clocks: Circadia formulates with chronobiology principles designed to synchronize with the skin’s natural cycles, while Clé de Peau Beauté deploys proprietary “day rhythm” and “night rhythm” technologies in creams and serums to align protection and repair with 24-hour biology.

For global retailers, the opportunity lies in understanding that rhythmic health is not a trend to be extracted, but a system that requires depth and respect. Superficial references to ancient practices risk consumer skepticism and cultural backlash. “I’ve seen brands claim to be inspired by TCM, while ignoring its foundations,” Yau says. “That’s not inspiration; it’s exploitation.”

One of the clearest spaces for brands to engage is experiential activation, particularly offline formats that prioritize these principles. From breathwork sessions to somatic workshops, these experiences allow consumers to feel the philosophy rather than simply consuming it. For Sharx, this marks a broader cultural shift. “Wellness is going to shift more toward community-based ventures, rather than the highly individualistic wellness culture we’ve seen for so long,” she says. “Things like the isolated 5am club mentality, or ‘grind through the winter arc’ aesthetics don’t really resonate with people who are seeking wellness through connection and community.”

For brands, rhythmic health signals a recalibration rather than an expansion opportunity. Success will hinge less on hero products or viral moments, and more on systems thinking: how brands support consumers over time, respect the cultural lineages of these ancient healing systems and create space for participation beyond purchase. As wellness continues to mature, rhythm — not intensity — may become its most valuable currency.