"I’ve never seen anyone wearing tzitzit in a kundalini yoga studio.<\/p>\n
"In fact, I’ve never seen anyone wearing tzitzit in any yoga studio."<\/p>\n
I get my hot tea and turn around.<\/p>\n
She has short hair and a big silver nose ring. She looks about 22. She’s big and healthy and tattooed. She has average looks.<\/p>\n
"You’re Jewish?"<\/p>\n
"Yes. Sarah."<\/p>\n
"Where are you from?"<\/p>\n
"From LA."<\/p>\n
"Where did you go to high school?"<\/p>\n
"I didn’t go to high school. I got my GED.<\/p>\n
"This is my first time here."<\/p>\n
"What brings you?"<\/p>\n
"He does."<\/p>\n
She points at a big black man with a working-class London accent.<\/p>\n
"When did you come to America?" I ask him.<\/p>\n
"1989. I wanted something different. A different attitude. Different opportunities. I want to get away from the grey dreary weather.<\/p>\n
"We came today for the Togo class."<\/p>\n
"Oh, I heard about that," I say. "How is it different from the toga parties that fraternities throw?"<\/p>\n
"No, Togo. It’s a country in Africa."<\/p>\n
"Oh, where is it?"<\/p>\n
"Next to Ghana."<\/p>\n
"Oh, that helps. That’s really useful. Next to Ghana. Yes, I can see right where it is.<\/p>\n
"Where the hell is Ghana?"<\/p>\n
"Near Nigeria."<\/p>\n
"Oh, thank you so very very much. Most helpful. Thank you, thank you. Where’s Nigeria?"<\/p>\n
"West Africa."<\/p>\n
"Thank you."<\/p>\n
The teacher walks in.<\/p>\n
"Hi teacher!" I say. "How are you?<\/p>\n
"Wait, I know. You can’t say. You’re a kundalini yoga instructor. You can only present a positive happy attitude, but inside I know you’re crying and you normally feel safe sharing how torn up you are but you can’t now because other people are in the room, but I understand and empathize with your anguish and as far as your vast adoring public goes, you’re fantastic. You and I know better, but we’ll keep that on the down low. You and I know how much you love ice cream and secular music and hot baths."<\/p>\n
"Is this your first kundalini yoga class?" the teacher asks the mixed-race couple.<\/p>\n
"I’ve done it once or twice," says the black man.<\/p>\n
"Once," she says.<\/p>\n
They leave.<\/p>\n
The teacher talks about his wife.<\/p>\n
"You’re both into this kundalini yoga thing," I observe.<\/p>\n
He smiles.<\/p>\n
He’s got a Ph.D. in Mechanical Engineering from MIT. His parents are Jewish. Now he wears white and grows a beard and sports a turban and runs a natural foods company.<\/p>\n
"Are you married?" he asks.<\/p>\n
"No," I say. "Surprisingly no. Ladies, why is this man still single?"<\/p>\n
"A lot of single ladies come to kundalini yoga," says the teacher.<\/p>\n
"Yes, I thought about that once or twice before I signed up."<\/p>\n
"Most yoga classes are 70% female but mine tends to be about 50\/50."<\/p>\n
"That’s because you’re such a man’s man," I think.<\/p>\n
"I’m primarily here for the spiritual teachings," I say.<\/p>\n
"So that’s why you sit in the back checking everyone out," he says.<\/p>\n
"Well, I sit in the back so I can best digest your teachings."<\/p>\n
I walk into the room and find my spot at the back. I lay out my borrowed mat, run my legs up the wall, slide my head on to two cushions, and meditate about what is truly important in life.<\/p>\n
Every few minutes, more of what is Truly Important in Life walks in.<\/p>\n
I check out what is Truly Important in Life and meditate about the higher things.<\/p>\n
The teacher begins his teachings.<\/p>\n
The door keeps swinging open and more of What is Truly Important in Life walks in.<\/p>\n
I’m like a starving man who’s seated at a banquet but is not allowed to touch the food.<\/p>\n
Cruel cruel fate! At least back in Australia I always had my pet wallaby and a few abos to play with.<\/p>\n
"You are unbelievably crude," she had said, "and rude to so many people. Much of the time, you take no care with your appearance. Your life in many ways is a mess. And worst of all, you’re religious."<\/p>\n
Two-thirds of the way through class, we do a meditation to the Indian-accented teachings of the Great Man.<\/p>\n
With the right hand resting on the left in front of my diaphragm — oy, the diaphragm, the cause of so much blood and suffering and bringing with it none of that promised spontaneous sex — I chant, "I am successfull."<\/p>\n
Afterwards, the teacher asks us to partner up. I’m surrounded by What is Truly Important in Life but the person next to me is a homely old lady and I partner up with her and we discuss what we understand by success.<\/p>\n
"Success means doing work you enjoy for people you respect, not doing work you hate for people you loathe," I say. "Success means having the freedom to go where you want and doing what you want.<\/p>\n
"Success means living up to your highest self, not stumbling around doing things half-assed."<\/p>\n
"What work do you do?" she asks.<\/p>\n
"I’m a writer."<\/p>\n
"I could tell you were creative," she says. "Who are your favorite writers?"<\/p>\n
"Tom Wolfe, Vladimir Nabokov."<\/p>\n
We finish class.<\/p>\n
Just before she leaves, the old lady turns to me and says, "I’m sure you’ll fill their shoes."<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
"I’ve never seen anyone wearing tzitzit in a kundalini yoga studio. "In fact, I’ve never seen anyone wearing tzitzit in any yoga studio." I get my hot tea and turn around. She has short hair and a big silver nose … Continue reading