Founders say Mandala Fest yoga just what the times call for
They says it's less about asking the community what it wants and more about asking teachers what they want to share. Mandala has become all about removing the barrier of entry for students and teachers alike.
By Anya Kelley
Danita Nelms had finished up a training retreat with a group of yoga teachers when a month and a half later, COVID-19 shut down the world.
Yoga studios suspended their in-person classes, and Nelms lost a part of the practice she valued deeply -- sharing the ancient practice with her community. One day, while doing yoga alone in her house, a thought popped into her head.
“I was in my practicing thinking, when COVID ends and we’re all back together again, I want to really celebrate yoga,” Nelms said. “I don’t know why it was a festival, but that’s what dropped in.”
Over the course of a few years, Nelms floated the idea by some of the people she knew from the community. Everyone thought it was a great idea, but no one committed to getting the idea off the ground. That was until Jenni Davel approached Nelms about offering a women’s yoga retreat.
“After that retreat, we were meeting to talk about when the next retreat [was] going to happen,” Nelms said. “I realized she was the one.”
In five months, Nelms and Davel got the first Mandala Yoga Festival up and running at Pierce Park in Appleton. While it was a success, year two of Mandala fest, which just came to a close on June 29, was even bigger and better.
The practice of yoga means a lot of things to a lot of different people, but for Nelms and Davel it means community -- something they try to center the festival around.
“Communty, love, inspiration,” Davel said. “I think the main thing is being together and sharing experiences. Learning, always learning, always staying curious. I didn’t even actually touch on what yoga actually is, but that’s where I find my yoga I guess.”
Nelms said that for her, yoga is both a practice of feeling and a practice of movement. She said the most critical piece of it is the self-reflection and self-study that she gets from both practicing and teaching yoga. Nelms said she saw that reflected in the patrons of Mandala.
“So many folks have shared with us that they tried something brand new at the festival that they wouldn’t have tried otherwise because the festival is free,” Nelms said. “So they don’t have to spend $5 or $12 and they can leave if they want to if it doesn’t feel right.”
The original intention of the festival was to give teachers a platform to teach the classes they love most. They had more than 40 teachers offer classes of all different varieties and they had no restrictions on what the classes had to look like. Nelms said they had an influx of creative offerings that highlighted each teacher's “uniqueness and authenticity.”
“I think somehow, the festival creates an environment for people to try new things and expand their practice into something more,” Nelms said.
Davel said it’s less about asking the community what it wants and more about asking teachers what they want to share. Mandala has become all about removing the barrier of entry for students and teachers alike.
In a time where division is being sewn online and people feel lonelier than ever, Nelms said the festival offers people a sense of safety. It’s a place where anyone can go to connect with their community for a few hours.
“I do think right now we need safe places to gather and to be together and to share common interests,” Nelms said. “We did have a teacher this year who guided a workshop about social justice and yoga, and I think that was such a beautiful gift to offer people, to offer yoga students and the community at large.”
Social media can offer a skewed version of what yoga looks like. Photos and videos of people who have practiced for years and have a high level of skill can come off as intimidating for someone who has never practiced before. Davel said Mandala Fest is about meeting people where they’re at both physically and mentally.
Nelms said there is a little bit for everyone and people don’t have to do yoga to experience the benefits of the community.
“[Something] I would tell them about this festival is they don’t have to practice yoga,” Nelms said. “If that part’s intimidating, they can practice meditation, they can listen to the conscious music and the chants and the affirmation, they can dance, they can eat food from the vendors.”
This year, the festival was cut short by a rainstorm that came later in the afternoon. Even though they couldn’t go as long as they had planned, Nelms said it ended exactly as it was supposed to.
“If things don’t go as planned, you pivot and that’s okay,” Nelms said. “That’s what our practice teaches us too.”
This year, the festival featured an intention tree that patrons could hang little paper tags on. By the time the rain came, the branches were tied with hundreds of little intentions and notes of gratitude from people of all walks of life. As the rain fell, the ink washed away and the paper melted into the earth.
“We all kind of gathered about that for a minute and scurried, should we go try to get all those down?” Nelms said. “Then, it washed over us. No, it’s meant to be cleansed … So, I would say even that in its simplest form ended up being the most exquisite end to the day.”
