OUR DEFINITION:

Namaste: (say “nah-mah-stay”) Literally, “I bow to you,” often used at the end of a yoga class, the instructor and pupils bow to each other, prayer hands at solar plexus. Often translated to evoke the spirit of: “The divine in me recognizes and honors the divine in you.” Very inclusive.

Motherfucker: Numerous definitions and origins. We never mean it literally.

Namaste Motherfucker: “The divine in me recognizes and honors the divine in you, but you don’t have to get all up in my grill.”

OUR MISSION:
At Namaste Mofo™, we simply want to remind people that we are all HUMAN and we are not PERFECT and we shall always be striving for our own perfect asanas, and our neighbors’ positions are those of our neighbors, and they are entitled to them.

Sometimes we slip up and spout a profanity or two, have some anger or rage or a wobbly tree pose, and we are entitled to that too, because we are HUMAN and need to allow for that. We are not fully realized spiritual entities as long as we are still bound to this earth, however much we practice and strive and earnestly connect to all that is. We are human beings in normal everyday life, and it’s okay to love our brother and also tell him to leave us alone right now. It’s permissible to know we are all connected and still draw boundaries beyond which we will not let EVERYONE in. Because really, it’s just better that way.

Ideally, we’re out to change some stereotypes about “yoga people.” All yoga practitioners are not fruity granola hippies (though some of us are, and that’s cool). Some of us are hardcore athletes; or not-so-hardcore athletes; or dabblers who seek personal betterment, whether physically or spiritually; we embrace oneness while also maintaining our individuality. We each have individual voices, in and about our yoga practices, in the 21st century.

And we at Namaste Mofo™ think there’s room for everyone at the yoga mat.

OUR GENESIS:
NamasteMofo™ was conceived in October of 2005 in the multi-use exercise studio at Club One Fitness in San Francisco, CA (specifically, the Yerba Buena club). While waiting for Iyengar yoga class to start, some guy who looked like a tiny Rodney Yee was talking smack about the folded-up Pilates equipment that had recently found a home in the studio. Something about how Pilates people are inferior to yoga people. I thought how rude and how intolerant and how arrogant his position was, and spat him a vitriolic “Namaste, motherfucker” under my breath. His whole attitude was so NOT what I thought should come out of the mouths of yogis, and my anger at him lingered throughout my practice that night. And my lingering anger was also very not zen.

Also around this time, I happened to overhear this fantastic tidbit from a pair of yoga students leaving the studio near my house one night.

Girl One: “Omigawd, did you see that guy’s savasana?!”
Girl Two: “I know! His savasana totally sucked!”

I mean, REALLY?! What the hell?! Weren’t you doing your OWN savasanas, lying there on the floor, eyes closed, concentrating really hard on your relaxation?! How dare you judge someone else’s savasana?!

AT THE END OF THE DAY:
We made some shirts with “irreverently reverent yoga-related slogans” on them, and started selling them in December of 2005. Got legit with California’s State Board of Equalization shortly thereafter, put up a website in July of 2006, and I’d say things are really starting to catch on…

We still mean it when we say “Namaste, motherfucker” to that tiny Rodney Yee look-alike. We bless him and tolerate his inexplicable intolerance of Pilates equipment the people who use it, and we keep him and his negative energy at arm’s length. Maybe he was just having a bad day.