Nāmāste,
My name is Sepideh — a Persian name that means dawn, that magical moment when night fades gently and everything feels possible.
My path toward yoga began unknowingly, in the quiet of my childhood. As a child, I would often enter altered states of consciousness without realizing it — simply by observing, feeling, and playing with my breath. I must have had an early intuition that there was a place of peace within me. Something I would only come to learn officially, much later.
A childhood steeped in poetry.
Born in Paris with Persian roots, I grew up in a family deeply connected to poetry and spirituality. My mother also passed down her love for India. At home, we sang, philosophized about life, read Rumi and Hafez, and often spoke of the soul, wisdom, and inner freedom.
My brother is a musician, my mother sings, and my father shared contemplative tales from his childhood in nature, among the rice fields of northern Iran. In our home, the inner life was always at the heart of everything.
My life before yoga
After studying law, I began a career in mergers and acquisitions, then shifted into branding. But throughout my twenties, I knew I was living someone else’s life. It didn’t take long before I decided to close that chapter and open a new one.
One day, between two jobs, I booked a ticket to India — driven by a deep desire to learn more about Indian spirituality. A spontaneous decision — or perhaps a surge of truth. I didn’t yet know that this trip would become a return to myself. I was traveling alone.
