Namaste in Nepal & in the YogaLoft

Namaste in Nepal & in the YogaLoft

  • Posted by kaleigh
  • On April 13, 2018
  • Comments


The light in me honors the light in you. My soul honors your soul. The divine in me bows to the divine in you.

In 2014, I hopped on a plane to Nepal to have myself a walkabout. This particular adventure had been sitting heavy on my bucket list for a minute, and it was time to lighten my load. When the plane landed in Kathmandu, and after customs released me into the wild, I was smeared with “namaste” at every turn. I knew that “namaste” was a real thing. Heck, I’d been to a billion yoga classes and namaste’d with the best of them, but my impression was that in this circumstance this was some sort of cutesy thing the locals did for us tourists—you know, to make us feel like we were having a real, live, authentic Nepalese experience and perhaps to charm our wallets out of our pant pockets. That was how I felt in Kathmandu.

The mountain was a different story.

The mountain spoke and I didn’t leave, though I thought about it a hundred times. I’d paid too much money and was far too stubborn to be too sick to not get where I wanted to go. I felt pretty terrible almost the whole time I walked up that Himalayan trail. The altitude wasn’t my friend, but it was a good teacher; slow down, breathe deeper and drink more water. And, show some respect—namaste everyone and mean it. Basic rules for health. At that point in time I was probably a little fuzzy about its meaning, but I namaste’d easily and often to every person I saw. As I felt more and more like garbage the higher and higher I got, the namaste turned into a little prayer—for myself and for everyone around me. When a local or fellow trekker would say it to me, I felt like they saw the part of me that really, really, really wanted to accomplish something that was turning out to be harder than I thought. Also, it made me feel like I was living on the page of a National Geographic magazine. It was pretty dang cool to be there. Anyway, “namaste” started to have a pulse for me on that adventure and I won’t ever forget it.

Back home again and a few years later…

As a student of yoga, this part of class—the “namaste” part—is my favorite. There’s something about the stillness hanging in the room after class, the quietness of my mind and body after I’ve been wrung out and filled up physically, mentally and emotionally. The connectivity I feel to my fellow students, each of us honoring that which is greater in us, that we showed up when we wanted to and maybe when we didn’t want to, this feeling like we did a hard thing, but we all did it together. It’s so dang beautiful.

Hands to heart center. Honor the light—that part of us that is always good, that is trying to be kind when sometimes we feel 100% douche-y, trying to be more patient when we’re tired and our nerves are raw, trying to be more loving and gentle to people when they aren’t loving and gentle in return, being sweet to our one and only planet, being sweet to our one and only selves––

Honoring that better part.