Trial by Delhi Belly: My Indian Initiation

JH Day 5

Night men photos

KM Mustard fields

There isn't a corner in India that hasn't been pissed in.I thought this as I traipsed worriedly through the Haridwar train station. It was 5am, still dark, and I knew that sooner or later I was going to vomit.I'd woken up before my 4 a.m. alarm with that familiar and sickening feeling: Oh no! It's going to happen to me! Delhi-belly! India's legendary greeting. Now it was my turn.I could expect vomiting, crapping, or both at once. Worse, I wouldn't be able to sleep it off in my hotel room: I had 8 hours of travel ahead of me: 1 hour taxi to Haridwar, 6 hour train to Delhi, 1 hour subway to my friend's apartment in the suburbs.I'd have dubious bathroom options all along the way.I half expected to be let off easy. Maybe I just feel a bit funky this morning. After all, I was eating a lot of strange food these days.So, putting on a false optimism, at 4:15am I dressed and walked down from above Rishikesh's Swargashram area where the budget hotels clustered, past closed shops, my favorite chai-wallah's stand, down between the begging sadhus (saints) now asleep by the side of the uneven pathway, over the Ram Jhula suspension bridge that spanned the left and the right banks of the now-darkened Ganges.I was hopeful that I could overcome that nagging feeling.My taxi driver, Mukesh, arrived on time at 4:45am and drove at breakneck speed through Rishikesh town to Haridwar. We arrived early---plenty of time for me to realize that the growing ache in my belly was not going away.I picked my way through the lobby of the Haridwar station, stepping over people asleep on plastic sacks covered in wool shawls rolled up like big soft cigars.Too poor to get hotels for the night, they stretched out on the marble floor. They were lone men, families or a few women together with their children, misshapen lumps with not a foot, hand, or tuft of hair visible.The bathroom options were not good. I went to explore the “first class” waiting room. The toilets were wet and filthy. The whole place stunk of urine and ammonia. At a sink stood an old man noisily horking up phlegm.I walked back out onto the platform and into the dark, hoping there might be a private place away from the main station building. Near the side of the building, say, or near a field.The first darkened corner I came to a man was taking a piss---as thousands, if not millions, had before him. Men are always pissing by the side of the road, in alleys or darkened corners here. Also in broad daylight. Nix that option.The field next to the Haridwar train terminal reeked of all manner of rotten things, from simple garbage—paper chai cups and foil snack bags—to nastier stuff like kitchen waste, rancid cooking oil, and probably some toxic old paint, construction materials and fetid water. It smelled awful. There was no chance I was getting closer.The degree of filth in India has taken some getting used to. I'm generally not squeamish but the piercing smell of unflushed human excrement affects some primal part of me. I veer away instinctively. If I have to use the toilet, but the only options are filthy, I will somehow lose my need to go.But even the clean public bathrooms have at least a whiff of acrid urine or the putrid stink of sewage. Then there's all that moisture on the floor, usually laced with sandy dirt from the bottom of people's shoes and sandals—footwear that has been out walking the streets littered with centuries of cow-dung, human feces, urine, laundry soap, and many other liquids that have spilled there over time (chai, fruit pulp, samosa crumbs, dog vomit etc).Normally, the surfaces in the bathrooms look dubious too: if there's a flush toilet, uncertain fluids rest on the toilet seat as well as in it. The sinks have a noticeable filigree of black on the porcelain and the taps are usually crusty. I never want to touch anything.In short—-between the smells, the fluids, the dirt, and the obvious presence of others who may or may not wash their hands regularly, public bathrooms in India are generally an unpleasant adventure.I wouldn't even want to throw up in most of them.My belly continued to churn, ache, pinch, and cramp. The situation was well past the stage of mind over cucumber, tomato, olives, and cheese cubes with a honey olive-oil dressing matter. This was a question of when.And about that salad.... Yes, I know, I know: all the guidebooks, and every friend who's ever been to India gives the same warning: avoid all uncooked fruits and vegetables except ones you peel. Especially avoid salad!Contact with contaminated water tends to be the culprit. Bad water leaves many a Westerner, used to impeccable hygiene, vomiting, crapping or both at the same time.Then there's all the roadside dust (tremendous quantities), diesel fumes and—-- importantly--—the cow dung that India's produce is exposed to on its journey from field to table. All potential culprits.But the Health Cafe in Rishikesh washed their produce in fresh water, not tap water (they said), and used the fresh, organic ingredients. I'd eaten a few salads there already no ill effect. It was such a relief to eat fresh food!But I'd taken things a bit too far. This one was not going to stay down.Maybe because the three skinny and serious guys running the cafe had been distracted while cooking that particular night. There had been some Borat-style sketch comedy clips on the Internet; the men had gathered around to watch and laugh. Maybe they hadn't paid attention to how those veggies got washed that night.Back in the Haridwar train station, I ran out of ideas for where to do my business. Then, I saw someone I recognized from Rishikesh and realized that I had forgotten to find out what platform my train was leaving from. So I waved down the tall guy with clear Dennis Hopper-style glasses and a wildly scraggly beard.“Platform 4,” he said, looking surprised to be recognized. In spite of the fashionable stuff going on with his face, I knew him as a friendly person. At the Health Cafe, we'd talked briefly about yoga teachers in Rishikesh.“Where do you go?” I'd inquired.“Well, Surinder at the Raj Palace Hotel has been sick lately. But for me he's the best. There's Usha across the river at Omkarananda but it's 500 rupees ($10). Otherwise Kamal the Astanga guy is pretty famous.”“I'm done with Astanga,” I said. “I leave it to other people now.”He laughed, “Yeah, too hard on the joints!”We were on the same page.At the railway station, we found the pedestrian overpass to Platform 4 and climbed the stairs together. I wondered whether to tell him that I was on the verge of upchucking. It was all I could think about. On Platform 4, we sat ourselves and our packs down on a metal bench and I noticed there were no places to get sick here. Except onto the tracks themselves. In front of everyone.I hate making a demonstration of myself in public. It is one of my worst nightmares. It looked like I was going to have to either be very brave, or very creative, in how I managed this situation It had all the signs of being painfully embarrassing.But for now, here was Jaime, 24, tall and lanky and Italian-looking. He spoke with the carefree, go-with-the-flow Italian poise; I'd seen him around town with several different people. I could imagine him on a scooter, drinking coffee at an outside trattoria, waving “ciao!” to his friends.So I was surprised to learn not only that he was Mexican but that he suffered the same curse I do: worrying. In fact I was worrying right now, and had been since I'd woken up.But it was hard to imagine him worrying. He looked so chill. But like me, he was an over-planner, thinking that if all the details were in place ahead of time, everything would go well.I had new respect for him.“Do you remember what Mooji said?” I asked him. The charismatic Jamaican-English teacher had been in Rishikesh giving satsangs (question and answer periods) and I'd seen Jaime get up and ask a question.“No, what?”“He said, 'You can't breathe tomorrow's air.' ”“Wow, I don't remember that, it's a good one. Really great,” said Jaime, nodding. “I also like to plan, but actually,” he raised a long, thin finger, “it doesn't make things better.”“I know, right? Because you get so frustrated and disappointed when things don't go the way you want them to.” This seemed to apply well right at this moment. “And you can't stop them.”“In fact, I think it makes things worse,” said Jaime. “India really forces you to deal with this...it's simply impossible to maintain your plans here. Too chaotic. Everything changes. Nothing goes the way you think it will. ”“Totally."As Jaime and I bonded over our own poor attempts to control our reality, I realized I was not thinking about my stomach ache. Maybe if I kept talking to Jaime, I would actually be fine.Or maybe if Jaime and I kept talking about Mooji and the overwhelming feeling of peace and love that the accomplished Vendanta teacher brought into the room, I could overcome my food poisoning altogether. Maybe I could use mind over matter. And somehow just the memory of Mooji would guide me.Dawn was beginning to light the railway tracks. Many more people had gathered on the platform. A woman asked Jaime to move his pack so that she could sit down on our metal bench. A poor man wrapped in a dirty white cloth and a dirty brown cloth, carrying a gnarled walking stick, came to beg for money. He touched me on the head several times and pointed to his cloudy eyes. A woman stuck a portable Durga shrine lit with sticks of incense under my nose and insisted on coin donations.But then, suddenly, quickly the train arrived, a few minutes late, and the growing crowd on the platform surged towards the train with their packages, scarves, slippers, small children, tiffin pots full of portable lunches. As we got up and shrugged into our packs, a surge of nausea hit me. I wasn't going to escape so easily.Jaime and I said goodbye: he was in a car at the opposite end of the train from me. All our seats were pre-assigned so I knew I wouldn't see him again. He would transfer in Delhi for a 31-hour train to Goa on the coast.As I slipped into my window seat next to a devout Muslim man who later gave a copy of his Qur'an, I prayed that, if throwing up was truly inescapable, please let me have the safest, cleanest, most peaceful experience of being sick possible, one that was not humiliating.And when the time came, I found a passable porcelain sink in a reasonably un-smelly bathroom. The door locked. I managed to keep my balance on the wildly swaying train. Given the options, this little set-up was a bit of a miracle. I managed. I figured it out. It was kind of okay.This was definitely one of those things I couldn't plan for and couldn't know how to manage ahead of time. It wasn't great—because throwing up is by definition awful—but of all the options I had been given, it was okay.And that was a decent compromise for me.

Get Real: Controversial Writer talks about "The Science of Yoga"

Science of Yoga

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New York Times senior science writer, William J. Broad came under fire in early January for his article “How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body". In it, he recounted shocking stories and studies of yoga-related injuries. The article enraged parts of the yoga community who felt it scared newcomers and discredited yoga.As provocative as the article was, Broad's book, The Science of Yoga, is solidly researched---and fascinating. He reviews 150 years of studies, giving readers a very good idea of the scientifically measured benefits (healing, inspiration, sexual power) and the dangers (physical injury, group thinking) of yoga asana practice. I had the chance to interview WJB about the whole experience.

YN: Were you surprised by the response to the NYTimes article?

WJB: I was surprised by lots of things. On the one hand there was lots of email about, “if you think that’s bad, let me tell you my horror story.” Spinal infarcts, vertigo, that kind of thing. But I also got extremely un-yogic responses like the bitter invective from a 30-year veteran yoga teacher who said, “Go fuck yourself,” and a yogini in L.A. who said, “You are a jerk, you don’t know anything about yoga.”

YN:Do you attribute this to the growing pains of what you call Yoga 2.0, “the modern variety” of yoga, especially in the West?

WJB: I hope that’s what it is! That’s part of my naive optimism. Science demonstrates lots of benefits of yoga---neuro-transmitters that help your mood, help your sex life and so on. The science also clearly demonstrates that yoga as we know it contains alluring myths such as, that yoga helps you lose weight, or it’s the only exercise you need, etc. This just isn’t true.I hope the outcry is part of the process of starting a conversation. And I’m hopeful that there’s a growing realization that yoga can be better. Which for some people is a contradiction. They think, yoga is ancient and what can be better than that? But the science says that there are issues and it can be better.Another surprising aspect of the feedback has been the depth of the reform movement. I had no idea. People using props, Iyengar teachers tailoring poses to people rather than the other way around. There are dozens of groups, schools, and styles that are working hard to provide this evolutionary agenda. That delighted me.

YN:So the reform movement would be more in the direction of Yoga 3.0 or 4.0.

WJB: Of course, those are arbitrary numbers. Yoga is this thing that’s being born all around us.

YN:What were some of your favorite “me too” stories from the letters you received?

WJB: Some of them moved me almost to tears. Two people who stand out are former studio owners, who say, ”Woah, you ain’t kidding. Do we have things to tell you,” such as a lifetime of surgery and therapy on their own spines. In one case, one of them had been working with celebrity yogis, creating curriculums. She was forming very visible programs and was very much in the mainstream.

YN:Speaking of reform, have you heard of International Association of Yoga Therapists (IAYT)?

WJB: I talk about IAYT in the chapter on healing. For 3 years I was a member. I’d send them my membership fee and they’d send me a credential with gold fancy lettering. I’ve seen them hanging in yoga studios—I hope they stop that practice because it’s just about the $75, not about having an actual diploma.To their credit—because what I want is for yoga to become more professional—they are trying to create standards and schools with standardized curriculum. That’s great! I’m hoping for yoga doctors, myself. I think it’s an outrage that we spend 10s of billion dollars on fix-this, fix-that pills when anyone who does yoga seriously knows it’s a better way. Yoga done right is grown up. It says, “I take responsibility for myself and I have control over what I do” in a way that popping pills doesn’t.So, I applaud them but on the other hand they did send me three fake diplomas.

YN: So you think they don’t go far enough.

WJB: There’s a lot of guru worship out there and cultish schools finely dividing themselves into factions and sticking to what they think is the truth. That’s why science is so powerful because it looks at what is real and what is not real. It can be more objective.The Science of Yoga is the first book to look at the century and a half of science on yoga. The science can illuminate a lot of what are bogus claims and what are understated truths.

YN: It seems like you’re saying that yoga is both much better and also worse than we thought. It’s much more extreme—handle with care!

WJB: Exactly. In my own practice, I did it for stress management. But fundamentally, yoga is much more extreme than a stress management system. As a science journalist I was blown away by the mysteries of the practice.

YN: Can you give an example?

WJB: How low can the human metabolism go while maintaining a level of consciousness? Is suspended animation possible? We can actually go into a deeper hibernation that a turtle or a bear—that’s quite amazing.How possible is continuous bliss—sexual, or whatever you want? Some people can so stir their inner fire that they enter these states of continuous ecstasy that is allied with sexual ecstasy. Possibly these are states of enlightenment.

YN: You say that you started to research in 2006—did the subject matter require more research than you expected?

WJB: I thought I was going to do it in 9 months but it took 5 years. In many cases, the science was more difficult than I thought.The sexual chapter alone took 3 years. There was some evidence to wrestle with. Some research said that yoga makes sex hormones decline. That wasn’t intuitively right to me and had not been my experience. I put that away for a while. When I’d go back to it, I’d still think that it didn’t add up. Then some advanced yogis talked to me about continuous bliss and all kinds of stuff, and then things started falling into place. But it took time.

YN:Speaking of sexual bliss, I noticed that you refer to Tantra only as a sex cult. The Himalayan Institute, where I’ve been studying, takes pains to separate left and right-handed Tantra. You don’t do that. Was this a conscious choice?

WJB: It’s very much in their interest to separate left and right handed, isn’t it? Tantra is a muddy subject. There’s layer after layer of symbolic misrepresentation. It’s gets so convoluted and strange—it’s a deep well.

YN: It strays into the magical, for sure.

WJB: Tantra gets into magic and trickery, frauds and pretexts for having fun. And they call it spirituality. Then there are serial philanderers such as Muktananda and Swami Rama, their 60-yr old bodies humming with vitality and they’re going down on any woman who’s willing—it’s bizarre.How can they rationalize that appalling behavior? There’s lots of literature about the hard effects of betraying that doctor-patient relationship. There are women traumatized by these swamis: he was their God and their God kept going down on them and doing these weird things!

YN: It’s hard to understand—puzzling and disappointing.

WJB: And yet it’s worth meditating on in the sense that it’s real so we don’t want to hide from it.

YN: Your parameters for “yoga” didn’t include much meditation and pranayama. I’m sure you know of the research studies done by Jon Kabat-Zinn (on mindfulness meditation) and Richard Miller (on yoga nidra/iRest). What was your thinking there?

WJB: Initially, I wanted to have the research to be physically-based, but then my research went over into neurological areas such as in the muse and sex chapter. There’s a hugely overlooked area in what yoga does as a powerful stimulus to creativity, for example. It’s also because it’s the way the industry goes right now—so much of the yoga we do is physical and doesn’t tolerate any meditation or pranayama. This is not Patanjali’s 8-fold path. It may be a misrepresentative slice of what got shipped out from India.

A Letter from Brazil

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handwritten

translation of Ana's letter

Last month I talked about my very personal reasons to sponsor a needy child---in Brazil. About two weeks ago I received my first letter from Ana Vitoria, who lives in the northeast of South America's largest country. Cool!I've always loved getting letters in the mail. In high school, I wrote to my friends regularly---and they wrote back. I even wrote to strangers I met while traveling--and they wrote back. I remember very clearly how great it was to catalog my thoughts and the events in my life. Even more thrilling to receive a response.So, I was smiling from ear to ear as I opened the white World Vision envelope postmarked "Recife, BR."  Ana's funny, 7-year old thoughts were penciled in crooked letters on the organization's stationary: she has a cat named Shena. Her favorite color is pink. She likes rice pudding.I made my way through the Portuguese first (hard to read in crooked pencil marks) and then read the translation. Fun! I imagined her sitting down with her project worker, maybe on some porch or outdoor bench near her school, maybe the fields are green around her, or maybe they are brown and parched. I see her answering his questions about what she might want to say to me, this stranger so many thousands of miles away in this famous city of this famous country. I imagined how my life that must seem, in her imagination, to be overflowing with luxuries. As we head into December---a time of unrelenting indulgences with presents to buy, trips to take, parties to go to, New Year's hopes and dreams on the horizon---I'm gearing up to write Ana a letter of my own. I'll be thinking about how to put my life into simple words. I'll be thinking about all the many, many blessings that I have, all the advantages I overlook everyday. I'll look for the words that a 7-year-old would understand, one who struggles to have enough to eat. It makes me wonder if I couldn't do more for Ana than just send her a Christmas card.(In some countries that World Vision sponsors, you can buy a child's family a goat!) And in the meantime, I'm feeling pretty grateful to be sending her a little money every month. It's a great feeling to contribute to her well-being. Maybe you'll contribute at the office this year, or volunteer at a local food bank, or even sponsor a child of your own?Happy holiday month and Hari Om!

3 Reasons Why I'm Sponsoring a Child in Brazil

Flying back from my brother's home in September was emotional. He was 4 weeks (out of 6) into intensive chemo and radiation, confused, weak, and scared about the future. His wife and I were working around the clock to care for him--and his two kids who were just starting kindergarten and pre-school.It was hard to leave at that moment, especially to return to my rather foreign life in New York. I was a part of his family more than ever now, and they needed all the help they could get. (Two 1/2 months earlier, Bill had been diagnosed with a stage 4 brain cancer, just a few weeks after his 36th birthday.) On that September trip, I had gotten close to my 5-yr old nephew, Alex, and my 3-yr old niece, Sammie. I had gotten to know my sister-in-law in a way that only people thrown together into crisis can. I had one of the most intense---and in an odd way, satisfying---experiences of family I'd ever had.I worried about leaving them at this moment, yet I needed to get back home to keep my own life going.  If my life fell apart---emotionally, financially, or otherwise---I wouldn't be much good to anyone. On my poignant plane ride back, thinking so much about family, I also felt lucky to be in a position to help. My brother's airline (he's a pilot) was flying me out to the west coast of Canada and back. My job as an editor was giving me the time off. I was able-bodied and I had a enough savings to afford miss a paycheck. Still, I also felt the temptation to retreat into worry, sadness, and self-pity. Nothing compared to my younger---and only---brother getting stage 4 cancer. Yet instead of descending into self-indulgence, something else, completely surprising, happened. On the plane's head-set TV,  an advertisement came on for an organization that sponsors children and their communities in impoverished parts of the world. Usually I leave that kind of work to other humanitarians. But that morning I felt an instant connection to those children. I deeply understood what it would mean for them to have some extra help. In fact, for the price of a sandwich every week I could get a child a visit to a doctor, help her (or him) grow a garden, or even buy her textbooks or help her go to school for the first time. Thinking about it made me cry all over again. I thought about it back at home and I investigated the organization. I waffled and I wavered. But the feeling that I needed to do this persisted. So here are the three reasons why I decided to sponsor Ana Souza Silva, age 7, of northeastern Brazil.

1. There is almost no price on giving ($10 a week? nothing), but there is a huge price to not receiving. To give to someone who needs help is an honor and a privilege.

2. I am Ana; Ana is me. We are connected. The act of giving is the understanding that our lives are, ultimately, bound together. It's the, "there but for the grace of God go I" idea.

3. I've felt a special connection with Brazil for several years, and it's a country I will most likely visit again. The fact that I might meet Ana one day makes giving her money all the more real, and all the more meaningful. (I've already started the paperwork!)

4. (I know I said three, but there are more!) It's really, really easy. It's the easiest way I know to give thanks for the privilege of my own life. It *is* the embodiment of "thanksgiving." Why wait for the date in November before I embrace this commitment to living?

5. It's almost hard to describe how exciting and moving it is to give a little money to Ana each week. It chokes me up every time.Maybe this holiday season you might also give to a needy child or a needy family. It really feels amazing. I chose to work through World Vision. They are a Christian organization, but they get great reports.

Happy November!

Adding "Namaste" to Bachelorette Parties

As reported in theNew York Times today, more young brides are adding fitness to their bachelorette parties. And that includes yoga.Are you surprised?What surprises me (constantly, sigh) is the endless creative ways that entrepreneurs organize yoga for busy brides-to-be. Writes the Times:

It’s not just New Yorkers: The Los Angeles-based company Yoga for Weddings (slogan: “Bringing the Deep Breath to the Big Day”) offers private 90-minute classes, with a focus on “heart-opening poses” like the Cobra, for brides-to-be and their pals in nine United States cities (cost: $500). Innerlight Center for Yoga and Meditation in Middletown, R.I., started offering $200-an-hour bachelorette parties last year; already demand this year has tripled, said Kim Chandler, the center’s director.

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That's a lot of cash for a little namaste with your girlfriends.... but it's about priorities.I'm guessing smart companies know that a few sweaty down dogs with your closest lady friends might work out better in the long run than a big drunken glitter-covered mess that you don't remember well even the next morning.

Anti-Gravity Yoga

On a hot July day last summer, my adventurous friend Michele, who normally cooks at a research station in Antarctica, took me to Om Factory's Anti-Gravity Yoga class.I thought, no problem, I've done a lot of yoga, and even a lot of weird yoga. In fact, it would be a good addition to my repertoire, since I've never done yoga suspended in a large swath of orange silk.Watch a video of it here: Anti Gravity Yoga at Om FactoryIt was a lot of fun tumbling around in the hammock of fabric, twirling upside down, and swinging my body back and forth in some very creative interpretation of yoga poses (could you really call "that" triangle?).It also stimulated a lot of abdominal and leg muscles I never knew I had since I was sore the next day. And sometimes it was scary. Falling backwards into the silk required a huge amount of trust---like standing on the high diving board as a little kid and praying that the water really would be there after I jumped.In April, the NYTimes launched "Gym Class" as part of their Well column and video series, and Anti-Gravity Yoga was the first subject in their "interesting class that you were too intimidated to try" roster. According to the article,

AntiGravity Yoga was developed by Christopher Harrison, a former aerial acrobat and gymnast who found traditional yoga too hard on his injured wrists. The weightless poses can be used to strengthen the core as well as relieve aching joints and stretch tight muscles.

Or, as one commentator on the Gym Class blog said, "Wow! So this is what life is like when one has excessive disposable income...."

Yoga + Infertility = Baby?

Women battling infertility is a familiar (though harrowing) story these days. Women using yoga to reduce stress and love themselves better is another familiar story. So it comes as no surprise that yoga is helping women to cope with the physical and emotional stress of infertility and its treatments...It's also not a new idea. My ob/gyn, Dr. Eden Fromberg, opened Lila Wellness Center in New York several years ago to meet women's pre-and post- (and pre- pre-) natal needs. And there have been programs such as Receptive Nest, and studios such as Brooklyn's Bend & Bloom, helping women to reach full "bloom" in their childbearing years. Other renegade yoga specialists have been helping women for years to make the all-important mind-body connection necessary. But the NYTime's article this weekend, "Yoga as Stress Relief: An Aid for Infertility?" raises this issue with a new twist: once-skeptical fertility professionals (doctors) are giving yoga the green light. The tide is turning in how acceptable yoga is to support women in their quest to become pregnant.

Medical acceptance of yoga as a stress reliever for infertility patients is slowly growing. In 1990, when Dr. Domar first published research advocating a role for stress reduction in infertility treatment, “I wasn’t just laughed at by physicians,” she said. “I was laughed at by Resolve, the national infertility organization. They all said I was perpetuating a myth of ‘Just relax, and you’ll get pregnant.’ ” At the last meeting for the American Society for Reproductive Medicine, Dr. Domar, now on the national board of Resolve, gave multiple talks, including one about how to help the mind and body work together in infertile couples.

And this is a national phenomenon, not just a jag in New York or San Francisco where there are always a handful of people pushing the envelope. Still, even with yoga's help, infertility doesn't sound like too much fun.

“A lot of people want to boil it down to ‘If you relax, it will happen,’ ” Ms. Petigara, a former in vitro fertilization patient who adopted a son, wrote in an e-mail. “I absolutely feel that yoga can have a very positive impact on infertility, but infertility is a lot more than ‘just relaxing.’ ”

Oh!!! As in, lie back and think of England? Well, yoga never was really about passivity.If you happen to be dealing with infertility right now, you can attend the March 17th tele-seminar on “Yoga for Fertility” led by Jill Petigara, who teaches in the Philadelphia area. But you'll have to Google the details. Food for thought

All Things Considered tracks The Great Oom

Earlier this spring Columbia Journalism professor Robert Love published his book The Great Oom, The Improbably Birth of Yoga in America (Viking Adult, $27.95). This biography chronicles  Pierre Bernard's transformation from an Iowa-born nobody into a radical leader of mind-body consciousness--in the late 19th century. According to this NPR story, contemporary yogis have Bernard to thank for the existence of yoga in America. All Things Considers interviews Love on this fascinating story in which author Robert Love tells NPR's Guy Raz how Bernard weathered early rumors of rampant sex and drug use, and later an arrest, to lay the foundation for an empire. Listen to the interview with Robert Love on NPR here (opens an MP3 file).

Core Power Yoga: Part 2, The Hustle in Denver

The Hustle in Denver: Continued from Tuesday....

“For our annual review,” he said, “we have to give a private yoga class to a senior instructor. Okay. Seems doable, right?”

Only when his day came, this senior instructor turned out to be a nationally recognized yoga teacher, a big name, a celebrity.

“So you know,” he said grinning, “He was pretending not to listen and I was correcting him and stuff. It was just weird. Right? But you never know what curve-ball life is going to throw you."

Who was the teacher? What did Andy do? What was the feedback? I was dying to know. Someone in the class asked.

"Nope, not telling!" said Andy. "He gave me some good feedback that I've incorporated into my teaching today so here we go!”

Like so many yoga class pre-ambles, Andy's didn't quite connect the dots. Andy opened with a sequence of slow sun salutations to upbeat disco-y club music. It reminded me of Miami--super positive mixed with aerobics.

“C'mon people, let's move it.”

Thump-a-thump-a-thump-a-thump went the music. We cycled through the sun salutation sequence more quickly now, then held awkward pose and twisted. He adjusted me.

“Lift your thoracic spine!”

I noticed most of the students seemed to have had some good basic training. The two guys behind me were struggling--sweating and sliding and looking around. But most of the women were adjusting themselves as they needed, not pushing themselves into contortions out of their range. The women next to be chose to do all the hardest variations of many poses, but even so there wasn't too much of a show-offy vibe in the room. The practice seemed safe.

Huh, I thought. This is the formula, and it's kind of brilliant. A one-hour class (low commitment, low impact on your day), hot enough (gets you sweating so you quickly feel like you're working out), teaches safe alignment (so people don't get hurt), and just a little bit of dharma talk (how this applies to your daily life) with –oh no!--not the dreaded--It was true: ab work. Right, I thought, it's called “core” power yoga. I never liked working my abs, beginning as far back as grade school.

“Lift your elbow up to your knee! Hold! Switch! Hold! Switch! Now scissor kicks one minute! Go!”

Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch. Agony. Yet was this part of the appeal to my sweating class mates? You get to do yoga AND do the hard work of the gym, all in one place?Andy stopped us to demo crow pose, an arm balance. Then he demo-d one legged crow. Then he demo-d no-legged crow.

“So when life throws you a curveball,” he grinned, “you just gotta go with it, do your best.”

That was fine, but he gave no hints about how no-legged crow might be possible for us without abs of steel.

“Look at me!” he said, giving a second demo. “Use your core!”

I stuck with two-legged crow.Now thoroughly dripping with sweat we continued on with more standing poses, some backbends, a few twists, a shoulderstand. The music continued pumping. Everything was soaked. My hair dripped like a garden of wet snakes. The thin material of my pants was almost transparent. My face, red. Final relaxation was brief. I had just begun to relax when Andy started talking again. Another “jai!” with a floor slap and the class was over.

“Okay guys thanks a lot, have a great weekend!” Andy grinned, “And we have an inversions intensive coming up at our Cherry Hill location this weekend, also a level 2 training you guys should all do it, as well as more classes with me coming up! Thanks guys!”

I took myself to a shower in the women's changing room which was like a mini gym/spa mix. Three shower stalls with large plastic pumps of soap and shampoo, similar to a gym. The black stones inset into the floor (like a mat in front of each shower) had a spa-like quality to them. And for once I didn't mind the industrial-grade lotions: I had to be clean; I was meeting people for dinner. This was very convenient. And like any busy business person, I was already multi-tasking on my way out of the studio. I paid for my class while talking on the phone. I was signing my credit card receipt while negotiating: Could I be there in 10 minutes? In 5? Where was the restaurant? Could you, I asked Andy, call me a cab? How do you get a cab in this town? I hadn't seen any on the streets. Susan, text me when you know the address. Andy, yes I need one with a credit card machine. Oh, thanks for my card back. Yes, thank you so much for your help. Susan, see you in 10.

No one was left in the studio by this time with its little boutique and posters for trainings, boot camps, more classes, more workshops. In my purist yoga-loving heart I knew what I was doing—multi-tasking and not being very present-- was annoying and a big yoga no-no. But as a business person at that moment, it made sense, it was what I had to do.And in that moment, Core Power Yoga made total sense. I didn't have much time, I had a lot of things to juggle, I wasn't thinking straight, I was barely coordinating the elements of my life right. Core Power delivered all that I needed in a very manageable chunk, and I fit right in.

Sweat for Haiti: January 27

Off the Mat Haiti

Haven't contributed to Haiti relief yet? Never fear: get yourself to a participating yoga studio on Weds, January 27 (tomorrow!) and let your practice contribute to the cause.

Yoga and activist organization "Off the Mat, Into the World" spearheaded by Seane Corn and friends, is getting studios to donate proceeds to relief funds in an effort called "Yogis for Haiti Day." In NYC, Kula Yoga Project will donate half of its daily income to Yogis for Haiti tomorrow. Take a class and you will be helping out. Plus, their classes are great and their teachers are inspired human beings (so if you don't know the studio, get yer butt down there). CityYoga in LA is also participating as, I'm sure are a lot of studios. Is yours? Find out!!

(Studios that want to participate should contact kerri@kerrikellyyoga.org)

Know a studio that's participating? Add it in the comments and I will post it! The list so far:889 YongeAha YogaAhimsa Yoga Apple YogaAt One YogaBend YogaBend and Bloom YogaBodacious Living YogaCity YogaCity Yoga LADe La Sol Yoga StudiosEyes of the World YogaIntegral Yoga Institute - San FranciscoKansas Siddhi YogaKula Yoga ProjectLife Yoga GoulburnLila YoginiMindful Movement CentreOm TimeQuinnipiac Fitness CenterSanctuary for Yoga, Body & SpiritShanti Yoga ShalaSolar YogaStudio 330The University of the ArtsWest Hartford YogaWillow Glen YogaYoga KulaYoga Mandala StudioYoga Source - Palo AltoYoga Tree Yogaphoria(from Off the Matt, Into the World)

Benefits beyond Jan 27:Dancing Dogs Yoga in Beaufort, South Carolina will have our grand opening on Saturday, February 27, 2010 with Hatha for Haiti. Shanti Yoga- Nelson, BC Canada, hosts 2 more Community Yoga Fundraisers for Haiti, Saturdays from 2-4pm. shantiyoga.ca for details.

OM Yoga of NYC (not part of OTM, but still) raised $700 last Saturday!

Yoga 2009: 10 Highlights

What happened last year?

Did it pass like a kidney stone or like savasana? Lots of subtle changes for me personally, and a big leap into the blogosphere for Yoga Nation. Part of me wishes I had a time machine to go back ten years (if I knew then, what I know now...) and another part looks forward to the madness and the mystery of a new year.But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's see what happened in 2009....

1. Fierce Club opened in Nolita. Sadie Nardini, of Bon Jovi yogi fame, not only opened her own kick-ass studio in Nolita last March, but later in the summer she also joined up with YAMA, an agenting enterprise for enterprising yoga teachers. Yes, folks, the future is here...

2. The movie, Enlighten Up!: A Skeptic's Journey into the World of Yoga, launched to mostly positive reviews (and some grumbling from yoga teachers) proving that yoga can entertain Americans for at least an hour and a half on the big screen. Director/yogini, Kate Churchill, and skeptic/subject, Nick Rosen, tussle and tumble around the world looking for the truth about yoga

.3. Inappropriate Yoga Guy "Edited" Yoga Journal. Yoga Journal spoofed itself in this 5-part online mini-series in which the unforgettable, and wildly inappropriate, Ogden, took over the inimitable magazine offices as a hazardous (and sometimes naked) "guest editor." Went live April Fool's Day.

4. Sri K. Pattabhi Jois passed. One of three Indian grandaddies of modern, Western yoga, 93-year-old Pattabhi Jois, passed away in May, and was fetted through the early summer. The memorial held at Donna Karan's Urban Zen headquarters on June 14 in the West Village created even bigger buzz than the first ever NYC Yoga Journal Conference in May.

5. Licensing Issue ravaged New York---and is not over. Should yoga studios pay large sums of money to New York state to be "licensed" to train yoga teachers? Widely seen as a pitiless money-grab, this proposed legislation threatens to shut down many tiny yoga studios that rely on teacher-training programs for basic income. (For this issue, yoganation was also a momentary guest-blogger on the illustrious YogaDork.)

6. On the other hand, Brent Kessel made clear that yoga and money can live happily together. Financial advisor and long-time ashtanga-yoga practitioner, Kessel wrote a practical, inspiring and possibly profitable book called It's Not About the Money (which it never is: it's always about the junk in your head). Read my interview with him on Frugaltopia.

7. The inaugural Wanderlust Yoga and Music Festival rocked Lake Tahoe in July. This ingenious festival blasted open indie minds and took over taste-making in the yoga world. Who said yoga can't be radically cool? Driven by yoga and music-exec power couple from Brooklyn, Wanderlust will happen in three locales in 2010. Thank you, Yoga Journal (San Francisco), you may now hand over the reigns. The young uns' (uh, Brooklyn) got it from here.

8. Celebrity Yoga Teachers---Problem? In late August, YogaCityNYC sent me to report on the Being Yoga conference upstate. The question: Is a media-friendly yoga teacher the natural outcome of yoga’s presence in America’s consumer culture? The peaceful yoga crowd at Omega had a lot to say. READ my final article. .....(One source said: “I've never had a PR agent or invited myself somewhere. Everything has happened because of the shakti manifesting in me.” The next day I got a message on Twitter inviting me to review her latest DVD.)

9. BKS Iyengar turned 91. Really, you need to see Enlighten Up! the movie just for the scenes of Iyengar talking about the meaning of yoga---not empty New Age spirituality, but real internal work, with a few beads of sweat and social service thrown in. For his 91st birthday, this tremendous force of a man requested that students hold a fundraiser to benefit his ancentral village of Bellur. If everyone gave $3, more people could eat.

10. The Yoga Clothing Wars continued with lots of news about LuluLemon throughout 2009. Their stock was up, their stock was down. We loved them, we were peeved. Mostly we were conflicted about the giant success of a giant "women's activewear" company. Good news: they have excellent yoga clothes for men. More good news: they are inspiring small yoga clothing companies, too. More good (-ish?) news: they are EVERYWHERE. Planet Lulu!!

HAPPY 2010, yogis and yoginis! Here's to a happy, healthy, inspired, productive, restful, and OM-ing new year.