The first time I attended Namas Day, it was at West Chester University and Meadow was just 5 months old. I’d never driven to West Chester and Meadow was still nursing every other minute so Sean came along and agreed to hang with the kids so that I could take some yoga workshops. It was a SUNDAY in the FALL (he missed football for this). And that is where the love affair began.
Namas Day took my yoga practice to the next level. Not because I could do handstands (still can’t) or crow (still don’t). But because it shifted everything energetically for me. The sense of connection and unity that radiates from the entire event blows me away each time.
I’m repeatedly amazed by the teachers and their perspectives, I frequently break out in tears at the end of a class because the power of love is overwhelming and I also transformed immensely at one particular workshop the spring after the fall football Sunday at West Chester.
All it takes is one amazing human. One beautiful soul to challenge you to push you to your yogi edge and plant a seed and visually grow into who you know you are meant to be. That happened on my mat alongside a dear friend one warm April afternoon. I’ll never forget the deal I made with myself that day. It has altered my path in ways I could not comprehend prior to the agreement.
So I return for a fifth time this spring. We’ll meet in Philadelphia and bow and bend and laugh and cry. Together and alone. I’ll shop the amazing marketplace and sip kombucha with people that inspire and uplift me. I find myself wishing this event happened more often, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be as special if that were the case. It’s worth the wait.