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Namaju Yoga | Ayurveda | Health

Where will I sleep? In newly renovated rooms, each with a private bathroom, shared or just for you. A shared room is €1,...
11/10/2026

Where will I sleep? In newly renovated rooms, each with a private bathroom, shared or just for you. A shared room is €1,350 per person, a private room is €1,820. Flights and transport are not included.

What’s included? Seven nights at Bodhi Bhavan, in the mountains of the Algarve. Two nourishing Ayurvedic vegan meals a day, plus snacks. Daily yoga and breathwork, workshops, embodiment, sound, essential oils, and time in nature with nothing planned.

And the language? We hold the space in English and German.

14–21 November 2026, open to everyone.

If something is still on your mind, a worry, a doubt, a „but what if…“, send it to me directly. I read and answer every message personally. 🤍

Lightness. Connection. Nourishment.Three messages I keep close. They come from people who sat in my retreat spaces, and ...
06/10/2026

Lightness. Connection. Nourishment.

Three messages I keep close. They come from people who sat in my retreat spaces, and I’m so grateful they found the words to send them to me.

I never take it for granted. When someone writes that their belly feels wide, free and soft, that they let go of something they can’t even name, I think about how much trust it takes to arrive somewhere and soften. That trust is a gift. Every single time.

What I’ve learned from holding these spaces: I don’t create the change. I create room for it. You bring yourself, your breath, your tired shoulders, your open questions, and something shifts. Often quietly. Often in ways you only notice later. A body remembering it’s allowed to feel. Words by the fire that point you back to your own path. Food shared at a table, slowly. It happens between us, and I’m only the one who keeps the door open.

So this post is a thank you. To everyone who came, who cried or laughed or simply sat in silence. To everyone who wrote to me afterwards. You remind me why I do this, especially in the weeks when I doubt it.

My next retreat, Metamorphosis, is 14–21 November 2026 at Bodhi Bhavan, in the mountains of the Algarve. It’s open to everyone, and no experience is needed. If something in these words feels like yours, the link is in my bio.

Thank you for trusting me with your words, and with your time. 🤍

namaju

In almost every first session, someone says sorry.Sorry for crying. Sorry for taking up my time. Sorry for needing this ...
04/10/2026

In almost every first session, someone says sorry.

Sorry for crying. Sorry for taking up my time. Sorry for needing this at all. Sometimes it comes out before they’ve even sat down.

I never hear it as a flaw. I hear it as information. Underneath those apologies there’s usually a quiet belief that needs are a burden, that strength means managing alone, and that rest has to be earned first. Most of us learned that somewhere, long before we had any say in it. It makes sense that a body which learned to cope alone doesn’t know what to do when someone finally offers to hold part of it.

Here’s what I want you to know: reaching for support isn’t weakness. It’s one of the most natural ways a nervous system regulates. We’re built to settle in the presence of someone who isn’t rushing us, who doesn’t need us to be fine.

So if you catch yourself saying sorry for needing something this week, try pausing before the apology. Notice what happens in your body when you don’t say it.

Save this for the next time you catch yourself saying sorry. 🤍

What do you apologize for most?

I just found a word for something I never had language for.Not introvert — I don’t recharge through solitude alone. Not ...
01/10/2026

I just found a word for something I never had language for.

Not introvert — I don’t recharge through solitude alone. Not extrovert — groups have never been where I come alive.
Not even ambivert, that middle ground everyone talks about.
There’s a newer term circulating right now, coined by psychiatrist Dr. Rami Kaminski: otrovert. Someone who doesn’t feel the pull to merge their identity with a group, who comes alive in real one-on-one connection rather than crowds, who’s often socially at ease but never quite belonging to „the group.“

Reading about it, so much of my own life suddenly made sense. The discomfort in big group settings that was never actually about shyness — I can hold a room, I can speak in front of people, but something in me always stayed slightly outside of it, watching rather than merging. The way I’ve always done my best work and had my most honest, most alive conversations one person at a time, never in a crowd. Team dinners, group trips, big celebrations — I’ve enjoyed them, but I’ve also always felt like I was visiting rather than belonging, even among people I love.

I want to be upfront: this isn’t an official clinical category, it’s a newly coined idea that’s still being debated. But it’s the first word that’s ever actually fit.

Does this resonate with you too, or are you solidly intro, extro, or ambivert? 🤍

I have an invitation for you.From November 14 to 21, 2026, I’m heading to Bodhi Bhavan for a week—nestled in the mountai...
28/09/2026

I have an invitation for you.

From November 14 to 21, 2026, I’m heading to Bodhi Bhavan for a week—nestled in the mountains of the Algarve near Monchique, Portugal—away from everything that usually keeps you busy. Morning yoga, Breathwork, embodiment, workshops, moments of silence throughout the day, good food, nature all around, and time that no one but you decides how to spend.

Whatever shifts within you here will stay with you when you head home.

If this resonates with you: You’ll find all the information via the link in my bio.

I have an invitation for you.From November 14 to 21, 2026, I’m heading to Bodhi Bhavan for a week—nestled in the mountai...
28/09/2026

I have an invitation for you.

From November 14 to 21, 2026, I’m heading to Bodhi Bhavan for a week—nestled in the mountains of the Algarve near Monchique, Portugal—away from everything that usually keeps you busy. Morning yoga, Breathwork, embodiment, workshops, moments of silence throughout the day, good food, nature all around, and time that no one but you decides how to spend.

Whatever shifts within you here will stay with you when you head home.

If this resonates with you: You’ll find all the information via the link in my bio.

27/09/2026

I want to share something more personal today — an update, and an honest one.

You might have noticed I wasn’t really here for most of this year, from the beginning of the year until the end of summer. That wasn’t an accident of the algorithm. It was a choice.

Last year was a hard one. I had an accident, came away with some fractures, and it stopped me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I couldn’t work the way I wanted to for a while, and somewhere in that forced pause, I also lost the spark for this platform. When I came back, something felt different — not just around me, inside me too.

My retreats didn’t fill anymore. I still had my 1:1 clients, my workshops, and those still felt right. But retreats started to feel like something else: a risk I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep taking. This year, my first retreat had four people in a space built for twelve. If you’ve ever rented a location sized for a group that didn’t show up, you know exactly how that feels in your body. It’s scary.

So I gave myself the summer to actually sit with it. To reconnect with why I do this work in the first place — my values, my intention, what this actually costs and gives me, not just financially but as a person. What I found is this: the work I do with people isn’t separate from my own process. My clients are mirrors. Every retreat, every session, moves something in me too. Not doing this isn’t actually an option, not really — it’s too close to who I am.

So here’s the news: I’m continuing. Maybe in different forms, maybe less often than before, but I’m continuing. I still want to hold spaces with you where we shift, discover, remember, and move through real transformation together. I watch people arrive, and I watch them leave looking — genuinely — years younger.

I don’t have next year’s dates yet, but they’re coming soon, and I’ll share them with you the moment they’re set.

Thank you for being part of this, even in the quiet months. I mean that more than this caption can probably hold. 🤍

The window of tolerance — where you actually have a choice.I think about this concept almost daily, both in my own life ...
24/09/2026

The window of tolerance — where you actually have a choice.
I think about this concept almost daily, both in my own life and with the people I work with. Inside your window, you can think clearly, choose your response, stay present even when something is hard. Outside it, your body reacts before your mind even gets a vote — and that’s not a character flaw, that’s just how the nervous system is wired to protect you.

Above the window looks like fight or flight: racing thoughts, reactivity, snapping at something small because something bigger is actually going on underneath. Below the window looks like shutdown: numbness, disconnection, going through the motions without really being there. I’ve lived in both, more than once, and for years I thought it meant something was wrong with me specifically. It doesn’t. It just means my window was narrow in that moment.

Here’s what changed things for me: this window isn’t fixed. It’s not a fact about who you are, it’s a state that moves. Stress, poor sleep, and feeling unsafe shrink it — sometimes drastically, sometimes for weeks. Rest, regulation, and real connection with people who feel safe widen it again, slowly, the same way we’ve talked about with the three nervous system states before.

Knowing which zone I’m in has genuinely changed how I treat myself on hard days. Less „why can’t I just calm down,“ more „of course this is hard right now, my window is narrow today, and that will shift.“
Save this — it ties together so much of what we’ve already explored about the nervous system.

Where do you notice your window shrinking most in your own life?

This bowl is basically autumn balance on a plate, if you look at it through an Ayurvedic lens.Ginger, cumin, coriander, ...
22/09/2026

This bowl is basically autumn balance on a plate, if you look at it through an Ayurvedic lens.
Ginger, cumin, coriander, and toasted sesame oil are all warming — they support your digestive fire (Agni) right when the season starts cooling things down. Root vegetables like sweet potato and beetroot are grounding by nature, which is exactly what a windy, changeable Vata season asks for. The lemon adds a touch of sour, which Ayurveda considers one of the most digestion-supporting tastes there is. And the toppings — buckwheat, seeds, a little yogurt — bring enough richness and texture to make the whole thing feel satisfying, not just „healthy.“
Nothing raw, nothing cold, nothing rushed. Just warm, spiced, grounding food — the kind your nervous system actually settles into.

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