It was with a heavy heart that I emailed my Bikram instructor to let her know that I was going to take a hiatus from her studio.
I was conflicted for a few reasons. I'd been going to that particular studio for almost five years. It's convenient. It's clean. I have friends there, and the instructors are excellent. But ever since the sexual harassment and rape allegations hit the news last year, I have been increasingly torn about supporting the Bikram empire.
Now, I've never been a fan of Bikram himself. I used to look upon him with bemusement, as one might a cute but useless puppy with a rug-piddling problem: "Hey! Great example of a charismatic narcissist who somehow managed to line up some yoga postures in a way that works well for many people."
When I had the opportunity to meet him during the now-infamous San Diego teacher's training and saw him strutting outside the tent, screaming obscenities into his cell phone, the bemusement turned into eye-rolling. ("Oh, okay. This guy's just a dick. Alright, well, I guess I have no reason to take a class from him again.")
I had also heard about his sexual escapades with his students. It seemed a little gross to me, considering the dude is married and the nature of the teacher/student relationship. Then, of course, there are the misogynistic and anti-gay comments. But I assumed that the sex was consensual and that the trainees could laugh off the misogyny. Hey, could the harassment that bad if three hundred and fifty people are paying to hear it?
After reading the Vanity Fair articles, I began to feel rather unsettled. I initially brushed it the feeling off, but I found myself attending class less and less frequently. At first, I told myself I was lazy and that life had gotten too comfortable since the Man-type moved in.
It took this feminist a read in the second Vanity Fair article
to see that I was probably a little foolish to write this guy off as
harmless for as long as I did. "I was like, You can’t teach yoga—you’ll
get raped,” one of the plaintiffs said about her experience in training. “That’s what was in my head."
Wow. How did I miss that one the first time around?
There may be some truth to the lazy phase of my life conclusion I arrived at earlier, but, wouldn't you know it, when I "gave my notice" to my studio, I started feeling settled about yoga again.
I tried a "vinyasa flow" studio near home. It was fine, but not what I was looking for. Then, I went to a hot yoga studio that "defected" from the Bikram logo about four months ago. As I drove over, I found myself feeling something akin to joy. I didn't know what to expect, but I was thrilled to find out. I almost cried when class was over and I lay down in savasana. It was just a wonderful experience.
"Hey, are you new here?" a student asked me as I prepared to get up. "I am visually impaired, so I'm not sure, but welcome! This is a great community."
I can't wait to go back!
This is an interesting time for the Bikram and hot yoga community. On the one hand, I'm excited to be supporting a studio that has made a change for what they believe is the right thing. I hope more studios follow suit. I realize these studios are taking a huge risk--they are likely to lose their Bikram-trained teachers, because instructors can lose their licenses if they teach at non-Bikram studios (according to an instructor at the new studio, anyway). This makes me want to support them in their efforts to break away from The Man :-)
But I also know that the Bikram series works. I didn't attend for four years for no reason!
Only his dialog is copyrighted; the sequence isn't. So, it's possible to attend Bikram-y classes at other studios. I hope the Bikram empire makes a very public effort to distance itself from him. It's about time.
Showing posts with label san diego. Show all posts
Showing posts with label san diego. Show all posts
Monday, March 3, 2014
Monday, October 18, 2010
Arrows and Heavy Hands
I don't feel I have time or the energy for a "real" blog post, so I'm going to post a couple of random odds and ends today.
One is that I had a lovely time this weekend meeting some of the bloggers who are at or are visiting TT. We sat around a a table in a funky, off-the-beaten-path Mexican restaurant here in San Diego, eating too much, laughing and talking shop. Y'all are some fabulous ladies and devoted yogis!
That lunch was a respite from a rather hellish part of the semester. Much as I hate to admit it, the stress has been settling on my shoulders like a pair of heavy hands. Each night, I dream somethin' simultaneously awful and laughable. One night, it was the apocalypse and a friend and I, stranded somewhere in China on bicycle, fought to buy donuts from the last open vendor to tide us over as humanity suffered agonizing deaths. Then, the night before meeting the yogis, I dreamed I was trapped at teacher training, stuck in the hot room with no way to get out. I wake up, relieved the dream is over, laughing at its ridiculousness, and strive to take that attitude with me throughout the day.
When I stress, I can get wrapped up in what causes stress. "Why am I reacting as I do? Why am I not all calm and Zen yet? What incidents occurred in my childhood that made me the way I am today?! Was it that time on the playground. . . " etc, etc, etc. I've been trying to pull myself out of that mucky stuff with a well-known Buddhist analogy that I'll share with you. Imagine a woman who's been shot with an arrow. Does she obsess over who shot her, what she did to deserve it, or what the shooter's reasons were for doing so? Of course not. She just focuses on getting the arrow out. Ignore the dream and turn toward the reality.
So, y'all do the same. Forget about how the arrow got there or who might have it out for you. Focus on the glorious and horrifying task of wrenching it out of yourself. That is enough!
*Need some respite yourself? Check out these awesome yoga blogs!
http://www.japanesehamsandwich.blogspot.com/
http://www.keepitlocking.blogspot.com/
http://www.japanesehamsandwiches.blogspot.com/
http://www.nameste822.blogspot.com/
One is that I had a lovely time this weekend meeting some of the bloggers who are at or are visiting TT. We sat around a a table in a funky, off-the-beaten-path Mexican restaurant here in San Diego, eating too much, laughing and talking shop. Y'all are some fabulous ladies and devoted yogis!
That lunch was a respite from a rather hellish part of the semester. Much as I hate to admit it, the stress has been settling on my shoulders like a pair of heavy hands. Each night, I dream somethin' simultaneously awful and laughable. One night, it was the apocalypse and a friend and I, stranded somewhere in China on bicycle, fought to buy donuts from the last open vendor to tide us over as humanity suffered agonizing deaths. Then, the night before meeting the yogis, I dreamed I was trapped at teacher training, stuck in the hot room with no way to get out. I wake up, relieved the dream is over, laughing at its ridiculousness, and strive to take that attitude with me throughout the day.
When I stress, I can get wrapped up in what causes stress. "Why am I reacting as I do? Why am I not all calm and Zen yet? What incidents occurred in my childhood that made me the way I am today?! Was it that time on the playground. . . " etc, etc, etc. I've been trying to pull myself out of that mucky stuff with a well-known Buddhist analogy that I'll share with you. Imagine a woman who's been shot with an arrow. Does she obsess over who shot her, what she did to deserve it, or what the shooter's reasons were for doing so? Of course not. She just focuses on getting the arrow out. Ignore the dream and turn toward the reality.
So, y'all do the same. Forget about how the arrow got there or who might have it out for you. Focus on the glorious and horrifying task of wrenching it out of yourself. That is enough!
*Need some respite yourself? Check out these awesome yoga blogs!
http://www.japanesehamsandwich.blogspot.com/
http://www.keepitlocking.blogspot.com/
http://www.japanesehamsandwiches.blogspot.com/
http://www.nameste822.blogspot.com/
Thursday, September 30, 2010
The Tent
So here it is... my visit to the Big Tent--Bikram's Teacher Training San Diego. I loved meeting Nameste blogger Josie. I loved being in the tent with 400 people, including one of my dearest friends in the whole wide world. I loved watching Bikram walk up onto the stage, and I loved hearing him speak the lines from the dialogue I'd heard delivered so many times by others.
I got there super early to ensure I wouldn't get slowed down by traffic or an unexpectedly weird parking situation. As I walked over to the tent, I was beyond excited to see Bikram standing by himself in the parking lot. I immediately felt giddy and childlike. Although I'd told myself to have no expectations, I couldn't help but let the excitement flood over me. I began to walk over, thinking, "there he is! He looks exactly like I imagined! What should I say to the guy who came up with the series that took away my migraines, helped me cope with stress, and keep me strong and flexible? OMGOMGOMG." And so on.
Well, as I walked over, I noticed he was on the phone, yelling at some poor sap on the other end. I figured he wasn't in the greatest mood ;-) So I decided I'd let him have his time to himself and called up Ms. Nameste herself instead.
The class itself was a trip. We are in the middle of an unusually humid and warm late September here in San Diego, and the tent encompassed that. I've never taken a class that had visible humidity. Yes, as Josie so beautifully put it, it was an Amazonian yoga jungle in there. Initially, it wasn't too hot, and it took me a while to work up a sweat. But once I did, ay dios mio. It was intense. And as you trainees and teachers know, Bikram stretches out the classes, so they are about two hours long. I don't think I've ever consumed so much water during class.
Nor have I fantasized so much about beer. I haven't had any alcohol in a year and a half, but due to the smell of beer wafting through the tent (thanks, Marti :-) I spent the second half dreaming of a Corona fria con limon.
I also dreamed about my humble studio's amazing carpet. Jeez-oh-man, the carpet in the tent is terrible. In standing separate leg head-to-knee pose, I kept feeling like I was going to fall into Chinese splits--I wanted to get my head to the floor just to prevent that from happening! And forget Triangle. No turning the towel meant no Triangle for me. Except maybe a Triangle shuffle ;-)
The Dancing J commented on one of her blog posts a while back that Bikram says all sorts of cool things you don't remember after. That definitely happened, and I think it's part of the yoga experience. You're in the moment, you appreciate what's happening, and then you let it go. What needs to stick will stick. But I do remember a couple of highlights:
--Everyone lowering themselves into Awkward. Seeing so many bodies moving in unison (and staying like that--no one fell out of the third part!) was moving beyond words.
--Laughing hard to myself when Bikram said that the only chickens in this world should be the ones going right into our stomachs. In fact, he said a lot about fear that stuck out to me at the time.
--Hearing Bikram sing a Bengali (I think) song while we were in between postures. There was something comforting about that.
--Ironically, laughing hysterically when he played some song from his album. Sorry--it was just so bad! He's better live!
--Finally, my hat goes off to the trainees for their incredible strength and dedication. I admire you all for doing what I know I couldn't do. I specifically admire a couple of folks in the tent: Ms. White, who, I thought, got unfairly picked on throughout much of class. It also goes off to a Muslim woman in in full hijab who rocked the class a few rows in front of me. I couldn't imagine wearing anything heavier than my Shakti shorts! Good for her.
What stuck with me most about the entire experience is how this yoga is so much bigger than the individual. Yes, Bikram put the series together. But he didn't invent the poses, and, like anyone, I'm sure he had a lot of help disseminating the series along the way, to say nothing of all the work it must take to set up and run teacher training. And that communal embracement of the good idea is what makes this series so magical. That's what will make the series stick around until our culture is evolved enough not to need it. But by that point, we'll all be levitating, so I won't hold my breath until it happens ;-)
I definitely want to go back. I'd love to take a class with Rajashree... or Emmy... or who knows! And meet more of you lovely bloggers. Ms. Nameste, I can't wait for another Fuddruckers' burger! There's just so much to experience!
I got there super early to ensure I wouldn't get slowed down by traffic or an unexpectedly weird parking situation. As I walked over to the tent, I was beyond excited to see Bikram standing by himself in the parking lot. I immediately felt giddy and childlike. Although I'd told myself to have no expectations, I couldn't help but let the excitement flood over me. I began to walk over, thinking, "there he is! He looks exactly like I imagined! What should I say to the guy who came up with the series that took away my migraines, helped me cope with stress, and keep me strong and flexible? OMGOMGOMG." And so on.
Well, as I walked over, I noticed he was on the phone, yelling at some poor sap on the other end. I figured he wasn't in the greatest mood ;-) So I decided I'd let him have his time to himself and called up Ms. Nameste herself instead.
The class itself was a trip. We are in the middle of an unusually humid and warm late September here in San Diego, and the tent encompassed that. I've never taken a class that had visible humidity. Yes, as Josie so beautifully put it, it was an Amazonian yoga jungle in there. Initially, it wasn't too hot, and it took me a while to work up a sweat. But once I did, ay dios mio. It was intense. And as you trainees and teachers know, Bikram stretches out the classes, so they are about two hours long. I don't think I've ever consumed so much water during class.
Nor have I fantasized so much about beer. I haven't had any alcohol in a year and a half, but due to the smell of beer wafting through the tent (thanks, Marti :-) I spent the second half dreaming of a Corona fria con limon.
I also dreamed about my humble studio's amazing carpet. Jeez-oh-man, the carpet in the tent is terrible. In standing separate leg head-to-knee pose, I kept feeling like I was going to fall into Chinese splits--I wanted to get my head to the floor just to prevent that from happening! And forget Triangle. No turning the towel meant no Triangle for me. Except maybe a Triangle shuffle ;-)
The Dancing J commented on one of her blog posts a while back that Bikram says all sorts of cool things you don't remember after. That definitely happened, and I think it's part of the yoga experience. You're in the moment, you appreciate what's happening, and then you let it go. What needs to stick will stick. But I do remember a couple of highlights:
--Everyone lowering themselves into Awkward. Seeing so many bodies moving in unison (and staying like that--no one fell out of the third part!) was moving beyond words.
--Laughing hard to myself when Bikram said that the only chickens in this world should be the ones going right into our stomachs. In fact, he said a lot about fear that stuck out to me at the time.
--Hearing Bikram sing a Bengali (I think) song while we were in between postures. There was something comforting about that.
--Ironically, laughing hysterically when he played some song from his album. Sorry--it was just so bad! He's better live!
--Finally, my hat goes off to the trainees for their incredible strength and dedication. I admire you all for doing what I know I couldn't do. I specifically admire a couple of folks in the tent: Ms. White, who, I thought, got unfairly picked on throughout much of class. It also goes off to a Muslim woman in in full hijab who rocked the class a few rows in front of me. I couldn't imagine wearing anything heavier than my Shakti shorts! Good for her.
What stuck with me most about the entire experience is how this yoga is so much bigger than the individual. Yes, Bikram put the series together. But he didn't invent the poses, and, like anyone, I'm sure he had a lot of help disseminating the series along the way, to say nothing of all the work it must take to set up and run teacher training. And that communal embracement of the good idea is what makes this series so magical. That's what will make the series stick around until our culture is evolved enough not to need it. But by that point, we'll all be levitating, so I won't hold my breath until it happens ;-)
I definitely want to go back. I'd love to take a class with Rajashree... or Emmy... or who knows! And meet more of you lovely bloggers. Ms. Nameste, I can't wait for another Fuddruckers' burger! There's just so much to experience!
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