Namaste. It’s spoken at nearly every yoga class I’ve taken, but what does it mean? According to Yoga Journal, “Namaste literally means ‘bow me you’ or ‘I bow to you’.”
According to Wikipedia, similar translations like “‘The spirit in me respects the spirit in you,’ ‘the divinity in me bows to the divinity in you,’ and others, are relatively modern interpretations”, but since they’re based on the Sanskrit roots, I don’t see how I can think of them as anything but ancient.
According to me, sometimes Namaste means “thank you” and sometimes “I respect you”. Usually both. On the About page of this site, I define it as “The light within me honors the light within you.” It can also mean “hello” or “good-bye”, particularly when no words are spoken. And when I share Namaste with young people, we sing a song that begins, “My inner light shines to your inner light.”
I learned the song with different words, and they concerned me. I grew up singing “This Little Light of Mine” and still appreciate its message. But it bothers me that I’m told to proclaim my light as little. My light is large, and bright–and yes, I will let it shine. But I don’t want to hear that it’s small. Which is why I was dismayed to learn the lyrics to “The Namaste Song” as follows:
“My little light shines to your little light, your little light, your little light. My little light shines to your little light, Namaste.”
There it was again, that little. I didn’t like it. I believe in success-based teaching and relentless, but honest, positivity. I know in my heart that we all do have lights inside of us, and some of those lights may indeed be small. But in order for them to grow they must be acknowledged so that they may shine.
I think that general message–that we all have shining lights worth sharing–is conveyed in the original version of “The Namaste Song.” But I tend to take things literally, and in particular am a stickler with words. And because I am a teacher now, I get to change the words.
I recently had the privilege of sharing yoga with some kids aged five to twelve, and at the end of class, I led my edited rendition of “The Namaste Song,” which for the sake of clarity I now refer to as “The Inner Light Song.”
It’s exhausting, working with kids. I love it very much, but the energy is much more frenetic than with adults, in my experience. My attention is constantly shifting and the kids are moving all the time, not necessarily in any way I am instructing. I especially enjoy leading the end of class, when we all try to be still, and later, say thank you to ourselves and our friends by acknowledging our inner lights.
It’s subtle, but by never telling anyone their light is little, and by always affirming that their light is inner, and thus everpresent, I feel like I am spreading a message worth absorbing–which is a good thing, because “The Inner Light Song” is pretty darn catchy.
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