Former male supermodel Cameron Alborzian has written a compulsively readable book on yoga and ayurveda, littered with stories from his modeling career, personal life, and therapeutic work with clients. The Guru in Yoga aims to get people on the path of health and healing by helping them set clear intentions, work with breath and asanas, and apply ayurvedic techniques. For those who can’t afford Alborzian’s handsome services, this book is a helpful alternative.
Born a 12-pound baby with club feet, Max Strom spent the many years of his early life in casts and braces—or in surgery—before he learned to walk. In 2002, he established the center for Sacred Movement in Venice, California, now home to such teachers as Shiva Rea, Saul David Ray, and Eric Schiffman. Twelve years in the making, his book, A Life Worth Breathing: A Yoga Master’s Handbook of Strength, Grace and Healing(Skyhorse Publishing, $24.95) collects his insights on yoga practice and life, incorporating stories and exercises for yoga students and teachers.
Based in Ashland, Oregon, Max is New York for a book signing tonight at Pure East and workshops this weekend at Pure and Yoga High. Luckily he had time to talk to YogaCityNYC about his new book and what he’s been up to recently.
Joelle Hann: You’ve been teaching for 20 years. What motivated you to put a book together at this point?
Max Strom: During teacher trainings I would feel compelled to say things that seemed to come from a source inside me that I wasn’t that familiar with. I would think, that was a really nice quote, who said that? Then I realized I’d said it. I jotted these things down until I thought of making them into a book for yoga teachers
But the book shifted focus over time. In 2002, I opened a yoga school in Venice, CA, and sold it to Exhale in 2005. I didn’t work on the book in that time—I was much too busy.
Now I travel a lot—220 days last year. That helped the book. It grew my focus from local, LA-oriented, to national and then to international, including Beijing, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Kuala Lumpur. That helped feed the book, giving it more of a general appeal.
JH: Who is this book for?
MS: First, I wanted to reach yoga teachers. Then I wanted to reach yoga students, but also more than yoga students. From owning a studio and traveling, I realized I wanted to reach people who are starting to ask the questions: who are we? where are we? where are we going? The book is geared towards that person who is already a bit of a seeker.
JH: Your book is called a “handbook” from a yoga master. Some sections contain exercises, quotations, and other reflections based on yoga or Buddhist ideas. How do you imagine people using it?
MS: It’s not a book to read once and set aside. Ideally people will read it and consider the exercises. Sometimes they are very simple.
For example, when you walk through a busy area like a busy mall or the streets of New York, notice what your habits are: are you only looking at people you are physically attracted to, wondering about them as a potential boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife?
Do you notice the older people, the children, the homeless people? What if you looked for a saint or master instead? How would that change how you assess people?
It’s a way of looking at your present life with your present attention, broadening your perspective and breaking unconscious habits. And it’s an exercise that changes not only how you look at people but also how people look at you.
JH: So instead of looking at the world as a consumer, you’re looking at it as a responder?
MS: You’re aligning your intentions with your actions. You may really want to transform, but if you go about your day acting from your unconscious habits, then not a lot of transformation is going to happen. But if you look anew then you can transform.
JH: Have you had personal experience with that exercise?
MS: In India, I met a homeless woman who had withered legs from polio. She had a profound effect on me and we didn’t even speak, because we didn’t know each other’s language. Her presence was powerful.
JH: Have you had similar experiences in the United States?
MS: I might not necessarily see a sage, but I might see people who have an open heart or are kind or who are walking through the world trying to see everyone, seeing souls rather than bodies. You start spotting them and they spot you. It’s not a special skill; anyone can do this. It changes your energy field.
JH: How did you come up with the idea of looking at people anew?
MS: I realized that often when I would walk I would have a story going through my head. I wasn’t really present. When I learned more about being mindful I tried to walk slower, with a different awareness. I started to notice people differently. I thought, why not actively look, actively seek out people with more developed souls and open hearts?
JH: You had quite a journey from being club-footed and growing up in pain, to becoming an international yoga teacher. What about that experience informs your book?
MS: When I first started practicing hatha yoga it immediately became clear it was affecting me in a healing way. Besides becoming more flexible and more fit, it was opening up my feet from years of tension from the club feet. It helped my lower back and my neck pain. When you can get someone out of pain quickly you know you’re on to something big.
Then, an Australian Ashtanga teacher taught me how to breathe. Once I started focusing on different breathing practices it became a centerpiece of my practice. It started to affect me emotionally—it had a powerful accumulative affect.
I have no problem with the physical benefits of yoga but it’s kind of missing the best part. It’s hard to describe. It’s like, you can make love with someone just for the exercise but you’re kind of missing the point.
JH: So your book is saying that yoga can transform you.
MS: Over time, especially running a studio, I would see people make new choices. They get out of bad jobs or relationships or into good ones. They realize what they need to do. All kinds of changes beside the physical ones happen.
Physical yoga will change you to an extent. It will have its way with you. But then after that it takes discipline. You have to learn your strengths and weaknesses, and take initiative to make yourself do things you don’t necessarily want to do.
JH: You’re helping people with their tapas.
MS: Exactly.
In front of tens of thousands of people, the guru motioned. “Tell that young man to come.” But the young man sitting shyly at the very back of the enormous tent didn’t understand. After waving and gesturing to no effect, an assistant went to get him, parting the awed crowd. So Radanath Swami, formerly Richard Slavin of Chicago, met the man who ultimately became his teacher, A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. Or, some might say, this was how Srila Prabhupada chose him.
On a bitterly cold December night, Slavin, now 59, read from his recently published memoir, The Journey Home: Autobiography of an American Swami (Mandala, $24.95) at Eddie Stern’s Ashtanga Yoga Shala on Broome Street. A slight, unassuming man, he sat quietly in the audience next to one of his students, wrapped in the light orange robe of a monk (unbeknownst to me; I sat down right beside him, in one of the only open spaces in the room). As Slavin approached the stage, no flowers were thrown or gifts given, Rather, his New York-based students revered him quietly from their cross-legged seats, as Eddie gave him a warm introduction.
Radanath Swami explained how he got to India at age 19 from an impulsive summer jaunt to Europe with a childhood friend. While abroad, their god of the counter culture, Jimi Hendrix, overdosed and died, just after the two youths had seen him perform in England. Fame, money, and talent hadn’t saved him. Wasn’t there a better way? Driven by his hunger for knowledge and relief from suffering, Radanath traveled from England to Crete where, meditating in a cave, a voice told him to go to India. Parting from his friend, he traveled overland for six months and entered the country penniless.
Reaching the banks of the Ganges, Slavin tossed in his American jeans and turtleneck, and adopted the life of a sadhu, a spiritual seeker. For more than a year, he traveled to the heights of the Himalayas, to the lush forests of Vrindavan, to the city of Bombay and many places in between. Like many young Americans in the late 60s and early 70s, he was on a quest to make sense of life’s larger import, that until recently had included the Vietnam war and the ordinary middle-class life that awaited him back in Chicago. By the time he met his guru in 1971, he had already studied with many spiritual dignitaries such as S.N. Goenkaji, founder of Vipassana, Maharaji Mahesh Yogi, with whom the Beatles briefly studied, and Swami Muktanada, founder of Siddha Yoga. He had been invited to take diskha, initiation vows, with high babas and gurus unknown in the west.
It might seem ironic that Slavin had traveled to India, searching in poverty, physical danger, illness, and sometimes extreme discomfort to find the man who, in 1966 and 1967, had already established an International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON)—otherwise known as the Hare Krishna Movement—in New York and San Francisco. Ironic, too, that once he found his teacher, he returned to the US and only once he was living in an American ashram did he at last cut his hair and take initiation vows in 1973.
But at the reading, Radanath made clear that his search overseas was an important part of his quest: it transformed him. It also tested him. His long silences worried his family back home, a burden he keenly felt. He wrote them ardent letters that instead of comforting them only served to heighten their concern. “I thought they would be so proud when I wrote that the forest animals spoke to me and the butterflies were chanting OM. But my father went straight to the consulate to demand that they find me.” Alas, the consulate could not help: no man living in the caves of the Himalayas could be tracked down.
After teaching in the US for many years, and taking vows as a swami, in 1983 he returned to India where he lives today. His ashram in Mumbai (formerly Bombay) feeds almost 200,000 school children daily, runs a busy urban hospital, and offers spiritual instruction for all who seek it. Everything is done in the spirit of service and devotion, or bhakti, the true spirit of vaishnavism, his lineage.
Radanath’s slim quiet form, his story of determination and love, bears little resemblance to the rowdy Hare Krishnas we typically encounter today, who chant and dance en masse in public parks or harass people with copies of the Bhagavad Gita on subway platforms.
His mother, who had to look up the word “vegetarian” in the dictionary before preparing her son’s long-awaited homecoming meal in 1972, came to accept and take pride in Slavin’s vocation as a Krishna priest. On her death in 2003, Radanath took her ashes to India, spreading them on the Ganges as 2,000 devotees chanted kirtan on the banks of that sacred river.
Radanath’s memoir not only describes the journey of one spiritual seeker but also a world of spiritual leaders and their mesmerizing feats. “The supernatural powers of extraordinary yogis had begun to seem ordinary,” he said. Readers are reminded that even though these leaders have siddhis—unusual abilities that defy time and space—they don’t always use them to good ends, something we would do well to remember in the West. The memoir also serves to remind us that a spiritual quest requires hard work, a desire to learn, and a true heart: it’s not mere fashion and certainly not for the meek.
The evening ended with hot tea, havala, a traditional sweet made of shaved carrot, sugar, and raisins, and a book signing. I left after 11pm, before Swami had patiently signed all the books and the kirtan band had begun to sing its praises to Krishna.
The way Francesco broke up with me was as simple as it was shocking. It was a Saturday afternoon in July and we’d just seen a movie at The Museum of Modern Art in New York City. Riding the subway back downtown, we sat side by side, him in an inexplicable and smoldering silence. Then he got up and walked out of the train. I never saw him again.
Dumbfounded, I was left to fill in the blanks myself. We’d only been dating for three months, seeing each other about once a week. Steady and sweet, he was the first guy in long while who seemed to enjoy being in a relationship rather than fighting it. He called me, took me out, complimented me. For more than a year, I’d dated men whom, I’d realize too late, were playing the field. Francesco’s availability was refreshing—in fact, it was a relief.
Until that fateful Saturday. Nothing had gone wrong as far as I could tell. Had something bothered him about the movie? Had he met someone else? Was it me?
After a week, I swallowed my pride and texted him. Nothing. After a few more days, I called. Still nothing. Then, my insides churning, I emailed a plea for any kind of explanation, no strings attached. Dead silence.
Francesco’s behavior made no sense, and, a month later, I was still struggling to accept it. On a friend’s suggestion, I went to a yoga center to check out a Tantric meditation class (which contrary to popular Western thought is not all about sex).
As a yoga teacher and yoga writer, I’d made many attempts to make meditation part of my practice, but nothing had stuck. I thought I could give it another try, but I had low expectations.
As I discovered, this yogic approach was different. Rather than simply closing our eyes and sitting there pestered by thoughts, the instructor had us trace our chakras, or energy centers, up and down the spine. We chanted their associated sounds (called bija mantras or seed sounds) and made the hand gestures or mudras. It was powerful and absorbing, and I found myself effortlessly transported. By the time it was over, some of the bewilderment and disappointment I’d been lugging around had lifted.
I was intrigued by the method and the teacher. His insights into love startled me—in a good way. When we got to the heart, he said, “Here we cultivate a feeling of loving for no reason at all.”
For no reason at all. The way the teacher put it struck me like a thunder clap. Most of the loving I did had an agenda. With Francesco I had been defensive and cautious. I’d expected him to pass a series of tests: to call, to take me out, to consider my needs. I wanted him to prove he liked me. I’d been constantly judging him, assessing whether he and his efforts were good enough.
But what about inviting love in by giving it out first? And with no purpose at all? As corny as that idea sounded, I could feel it was true: I had to give love in order to get it.
The heart chakra is called anahata, which means “that which cannot be destroyed.” Its element is air, which governs the sense of touch. Its quality addresses our ability to connect with or touch others. It’s often symbolized by a lotus, which, when open, drinks up the power of the sun but, when closed, droops down and withdraws.
I’d always thought that my most meaningful connection in life would come from romance, but now my daily meditation practice often feels better even than that—steadier, deeper, and more abiding. As I run through the chakras, I often linger at the heart center. It’s here that the possibility of romantic love blossoms, yes, but so does the love that I can share in a smile with a stranger or a friendly word on a crowded subway. It’s love that lets me help a blind old man walk to the corner and that sends me on an errand for a friend in need. It’s love that pushes me to share with my yoga students what I’m learning.
I know now that love is mine for the taking. I don’t need to wait for the other person to prove his love to me.
Today I keep fresh flowers in my house to remind me of the uplifting life of an open heart. And when I think of Francesco, I no longer feel bad about his silent departure, I only regret silently judging his every move.
The main lobby of Pure Yoga is covered in backpacks and notebooks. Groups of people, some from as far away as Arizona, England, and India, sit together eating snacks and talking. It looks like a college common room around exam time. But these studious people, ranging from early 20s to late 40s, are not gathered to take a test. They are here to receive the teachings of the Bhagavad Gita, an ancient Hindu text, as taught by Tibetan Buddhist monk Geshe Michael Roach and his co-teacher Lama Christie McNally.
For eight evenings in November, Roach and McNally explicated the Gita—which is 9th scripture course in their Yoga Studies Institute (YSI) series—discussing the text’s insights into karma and ethical living. The conversation between Arjuna, the warrior prince, and Krishna, the Hindu god (disguised as Arjuna’s trusted friend and charioteer) is a model of student-guru relationship, and a fitting tableau to explain some of yoga’s subtle concepts.
The excitement in the room was palpable. Roach and McNally only come to New York about twice a year and many students—including long-time ones—had not heard this particular teaching. As well, the duo will be traveling extensively in 2010, before they undertake another 3-year silent retreat later in the year. Both will make them inaccessible to their New York-based students.
Roach and McNally taught from a stage covered in roses and lilies. Each night, when they entered the room, students bowed, offering abundant flowers, fruit, chocolate, CDs of music, and even boxes of breakfast cereal. These entrances took quite a while as the teachers gathered the goods and chatted with students.
Then, Lama Christie, dressed in her signature white cotton, opened the formal teaching with a heart-centered meditation and visualization.
Rather than go chapter by chapter through the Gita, the two used particular stanzas to discuss key ideas of karma, the laws of action, and perception.
Present action, they said, does not lead to present results. That’s just our wish to control of our lives. Rather, present situations spring from “seeds” planted long ago. So, if you want something in your future life, give it away now. If you want a lot of money, give a lot of money away (Roach has written books on this). If you want a good boyfriend, help someone else meet their romantic partner. If you love churros (a fried Spanish donut, often sold on subway platforms), give all your churros away. Roach used the example of receiving a pizza box full of churros after sharing a bag with some students.
“In our life, we are trained to think we can’t get our goal or that we should have reasonable goals,” says Roach. “If you understand how to do an action, you don’t have to settle for anything less anymore.” We can—and should—dream big, but to get everything we want we need to stop thinking of ourselves. In helping others first, our own dreams will be fulfilled.
Also, they lectured, things in the material and emotional world are projections from within us. As subjective constructions, they don’t actually exist. It’s because form and reality are not fixed that enlightenment—a major shift in perspective—is possible.
Some attendees, like Edward Lafferty, assistant to a senior YSI teacher, felt that they were receiving spiritual nourishment just by being at the event. “It’s very clear that things are happening at a deeper level,” he said. “There’s some sort of transmission going on beyond the words.”
Others were curious. Piotr Bracichowicz, a lecturer in computer engineering at CUNY, had come along with his wife, a yoga teacher. “These are simple things they’re talking about,” he said, “but they are life changing. We cannot make an action expecting a certain result. But we are responsible for making good actions anyway. It’s a great practice.”
But for others, the event raised questions. Phebe Palin, psychotherapist and lecturer at Brooklyn College, found the ceremony around the teaching distracting.“I was surprised that it took them 45 minutes to get into the room every night,” says Palin who is currently training enrolled in the Conquering Lion yoga teacher training program. “I would have liked to have heard them teach more.”
The program, slated to end at 11pm each night, often ran past midnight.
As for why now is the time to teach the Bhagavad Gita, Lobsang Chukyi, Buddhist nun and assistant to Roach and McNally commented, “The story centers on someone who is confused in midst of battlefield—confused about what to do. The world is confused right now. People don’t know what to do in their lives. They want the knowledge.”
As attendees searched for their shoes and socks at the end of the night, many lovingly watched their teachers as they left the studio. The feeling of excitement hadn’t dimmed. It was a bit tired, but still burning bright.
Look down any yoga class schedule and usually you won’t find many offerings for yoga philosophy. Mostly reserved for teacher training programs—and then crammed into a weekend or two—philosophy is usually dwarfed by the popularity of asana, which is just one of yoga’s eight “limbs.” I went on a search to find who is offering philosophy classes in New York this year and was pleasantly surprised. It’s not just reserved for the hard-core student practicing svadyiya—self study—anymore. Yes, it can seem mysterious, but yoga’s deeper ideas offer inspiration for teaching and practicing, and – perhaps most importantly – for life.
More and more students are finding that foundational texts such as the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, the Bhagavad Gita, and the Samkhya Karika are best studied with an experienced teacher who can explain the nuances of Eastern ideas and the trickiness of the translations. Self-study, of course, is a good habit to develop, but it also means persevering without help of a guide or the the morale of a discussion group. Since it’s worthwile to find a sangha to study with, we’ve put together a list of great classes. Considering how ambitious and cerebral New Yorkers generally are, it’s not surprising that this gap in our continued yoga education is starting to close.
Ongoing Groups and Classes
The Iyengar Yoga Institute of New York, Manhattan
212 691 YOGA
The Iyengar Institute offers a free weekly sutra study group taught by their faculty on Fridays from 1:30-2:45pm. This might just be the best deal in town.
Also, February 26 – 28, 2010, Edwin Bryant, professor of Ph.D. in Indic languages and cultures at Rutgers University, will offer a weekend workshop on first chapter of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. Full weekend or drop in (prices vary).
Jaya Yoga Center, Brooklyn
718 788 8788
The Jaya Book Club / Study Group will begin Saturday January 16 at 5:45 pm with an in-depth look at the Bhagavad Gita. From the web site, “Our guide will be Eknath Easwaran’s three volume set The Bhagavad Gita for Daily Living: The End of Sorrow Vol. 1. Chapters 1–3.”
Jivamukti Yoga School, Manhattan
212 353 0214
Beginning Tuesday January 26th 8 – 9:30 pm and running through June 8th, Joshua M. Greene, Professor of Religion at Hofstra University, will offer readings, analysis, and verse recitations of the Bhagavad Gita. $18 drop-in, $290 for series
The Shala, Manhattan
212 979 9988
The Shala near Union Square offers a weekly Bhagavad Gita study group at 6:15pm on Thursdays led by Kaustubha Das, ashtanga yoga teacher and director of the Bhakti Collective. Free.
Sivanada Yoga Vedanta Center, Manhattan
212 255 4560
The Sivananda Center on W24th Street, one of New York’s oldest yoga centers, offers ongoing workshops in Vedanta philosophy and its practical application, as well as the laws of karma, and the Bhagavad Gita.
Vira Yoga, Manhattan
212 334 9960
“Kali in the Twelve Processions of Light and Darkness: A Tantric Practice of Body, Heart, and Voice.” Dr. Douglas Brooks of Rajanaka Yoga will discuss aspects of Kali as a powerful force in Tantric teaching. With chanting. Saturday and Sunday, February 13-14th, 2010.
Yoga Sutra, Manhattan
212 490 1443
Yoga Sutra offers regular ongoing classes in yoga studies so check their calendar. Last fall they offered “Chanting the Yoga Sutras” with Kimberly Flynn, a student of Sanskrit recitation with Dr. M.A. Jayashree in Mysore, India, since 1998.
Wandering Sages
Manorma, founder the School of Sanskrit Studies, holds courses on Sanskrit, chanting, and yoga philosophy at various locations around the country, but often in New York City.
At Vira Yoga January 26, 2- 3:30, February 23, March 23, May 25; at Jivamukti every 3rd Wednesday of the month beginning January 20th. Check her schedule for updates at http://www.sanskritstudies.org/.
Yoga Studies Institute, teaches yoga texts and traditions also at various locations around the country and often in New York City. The Classics of Yoga are interpreted by Geshe Michael Roach, Christie McNally, and YSI staff.
For classes in Sanskrit, try Columbia University or NYU’s continuing education programs.
If you really want a solid grounding in all the yoga texts, and are willing to travel, Loyola Marymount University in LA offers a comprehensive certificate program in Yoga Philosophy through their extension program. But you have to go to the left coast.
It’s payback: after writing about other people’s classes and techniques I’ve been reviewed in TimeOut NY’s Fitness Issue, 2010. It’s a nice little write up.
Jonathan, the shy English reporter, had no context at all to understand what he was getting into, because…
…he had NEVER done yoga before. The word “vinaysa” was just a bunch of letters to him. Oy! Putting me to the test.
But he did well. In a class of 17, he selected a spot at the very back corner of the room where I slid him props and—a good student—he took child’s pose as needed. We all had a good time. Thanks for coming, Jonathan.
And thanks GO Yoga for having me as a teacher these past 7 years. (Come to GO’s 10-year anniversary party, Saturday, January 16, 2010 from 6pm on.)
Types of yoga offered: Vinyasa, plus a creative interpretation of different schools.
Name of class: Basics with Joelle Hann
Length: 90 minutes
What to expect: A brisk yet beginner-friendly session, capped off with a Maya Angelou poem and a group om
Level: Yoga newbies can do it.
The verdict: Joelle Hann used the dimmable lighting and music to good effect, controlling the mood of the room. She also watches over her students with a sharp eye, supplying blocks and straps and correcting alignment. You’ll sweat during the more active part of the class, but you’ll leave feeling limber and relaxed, rather than fatigued.—Jonathan Shannon
Like many good things, the “open practice” time at Sangha Yoga Shala hatched out of a conversation between friends. Alana Kessler, owner and director of the 6-month old studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and fellow-instructor Elise Espat both practiced Mysore-style ashtanga but at different studios. They thought it would be fun to practice together.
But when talk turned to action in early October, they decided—with the input from the rest of the studio’s staff—to do something quite untraditional. They decided not to limit the “open practice” to ashtangis, as is customary in Mysore style. Instead they made it inclusive of the other styles offered at Sangha Yoga Shala, including Iyengar.
The idea was that students would help each other, no matter what tradition they came from—a groundbreaking notion given how passionate Iyengar and ashtanga practioners are about their individual styles.
Kessler says the bottom line is cultivating the teacher within.
“In Mysore ashtanga the teacher doesn’t speak. It’s self practice. Everything is adjustments and is experiential. We believe that the body does what it’s ready to do. The foundation of Iyengar is to meet with teacher once a week and the rest is experiential. In both traditions, you’re trying to take the ego out of practice, and let the real teacher manifest in the space.”
Questions arise, however, about the practicalities of this arrangement. How might someone trained in movement and breath-based ashtanga tradition know how to adjust someone from the extremely precise, alignment-based Iyengar practice—and vice versa?
Kessler says it’s a conversation. Practitioners are primarily teachers, and they’re interested in the exchange. Although their knowledge is coming from different modalities, it refers back to the same source, the Krishnamacharya lineage.
“Recently, somebody was having a problem with a trocanter thing on her right hip. She asked Cory, the Iyengar teacher, why. I knew it was a sacrum imbalance because I’d been through that pose and been injured there. Cory gave the exact same answer that I did –we just came to it from a different place.”
Just a few weeks into this new offering, attendance is still growing. The two morning sessions (T/Th 9:30-11:30) and one afternoon (Friday 3:30-5:30) are not times everyone can make. As well, the studio is also still building its Iyengar program, with one certified teacher and another currently seeking certification.
The morning I visited, four Mysore-style ashtangis and two vinyasa practitioners were well into their morning practice. The steady, rhythmic sound of the breath filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional click of the heaters. When it was time for one woman to attempt the deep twist of marichyasana D, another woman got up from yoganidrasana, a supine pose in which the feet cross behind the neck, to adjust her.
It was peaceful in the room, a harmonious balance of effort, grace, and community, unruffled by one student stopping to help another. Providing space to practice and be influenced by each other might help to break down barriers between traditions, but on the most immediate level, it helps foster community.
And as Sangha Yoga Shala—which means “community yoga house”—says in its mission statement, “Only in community can we transcend and truly make a positive impact on the world.”
I thought it would be appropriate for a site dedicated to frugal living to hear a few words from someone who spends his days and nights advising people on their money–and helping them to use it better.
Financial planner Brent Kessel is the C.E.O. of Abacus Portfolios and President and co-founder of Abacus Wealth Partners. I met him at the Yoga Journal conference in New York in May, where he was presenting at the 2-day “business of yoga” workshop.
Kessel, a long-time yoga practitioner, has been able to combine his wealth of financial experience (pun intended) with the mental discipline and spiritual insight of his yoga practice to come up with some pretty fascinating theories on our relationships to money. And, some helpful techniques for taming the financial beasts within.
In his talk–and in his book It’s Not About the Money: A Financial Game Plan for Staying Safe, Sane, and Calm in Any Economy–he outlined 8 major money archetypes as he sees them: the Guardian (worry/prudence), the Saver (hoarding/abundance), the Innocent (avoidance/hope), the Pleasure Seeker (hedonism/enjoyment), the Caregiver (enabling/empathy), the Idealist (distrust/vision), the Star (pretentiousness/leadership), and the Empire Builder (greed/innovation).
I was so fascinated that I took another workshop with him a few weeks after the conference. I found out (no surprise for a Frugaltopian) that I’m a Guardian and a Saver—also, to my surprise, an Idealist and a Pleasure Seeker.
Brent was gracious enough to agree to an interview with Frugaltopia. So, I’m happy to pass some of the super interesting insights outlined in his book “It’s Not About the Money” (Buy it! You won’t be sorry!) on to you, dear readers.
Interview with Brent Kessel
Frugaltopia: Do many people avoid looking frankly at their financial situation? If yes, do you know why?
Brent Kessel: Almost everybody avoids looking at some part of their situation. I call it their Money Mask. This is the part of us that hopes the world will see us a bit differently than we know ourselves to be. Most want to appear to have more income and assets than they do, primarily because in our culture, that’s synonymous with approval, success, praise. They are like a drug fix that allows us to avoid emptiness, restlessness, or sadness. However, because they’re ego-driven, they’re completely impermanent. So the only lasting solution becomes an addiction to more and more.
Frugaltopia: How did you come up with the idea of the 8 archetypes that best describe most people’s money issues?
Brent Kessel: Mostly just by observing the patterns that people get stuck in year after year, even if they sell a business or get a big inheritance. And these patterns are almost entirely based on past conditioning. It seemed an easy way to give us a common language for identifying our weaknesses and strengths, and to cultivate more balance.
Frugaltopia: Is there one archetype that seems to do better financially than others? Why is that, in your opinion?
Brent Kessel: It really depends how you define better. If it’s defined as increasing your net worth or financial security, it’s likely the Saver, or sometimes the Guardian. If it’s defined as voluntary simplicity, it’s probably the Idealist. If it’s using money to ease the most suffering in the world, then it’s the Caretaker.
"It's Not About the Money"
Frugaltopia: Frugaltopians–the 4 of us who run Frugaltopia–are most likely Savers or Guardians, according to your system. (I’m both!) Are there any downfalls to being frugal?
Brent Kessel: The biggest downfall is when we believe that we can obtain ultimate security from our frugality or savings. They are impermanent too. It’s imperative that we stay in touch with our mortality, with the preciousness of life and how quickly security can vanish. This elicits compassion, which is the best antidote to the extreme Guardian (who’s overly anxious about money and safety) and to the Saver (who never gives money away for fear that they might need it one day.)
Frugaltopia: If there’s one piece of financial advice you could give to everyone, no matter what their archetype, what would it be?
Brent Kessel: Look beneath the surface. Your financial life is not dictated by interest rates, investment returns, or budgets. 99% of it is dictated by the unconscious beliefs you have about money. Use my book, or the Cure for Money Madness to uncover the parts you’re not yet aware of.
Thank you, Brent! Learn more about Brent and his work at his web site www.brentkessel.com.
Old stone houses in Recife, Brazil.
My first trip was to magical Salvador de Bahia in the northeast where music is everywhere and the vibe is relaxed and super fun. Subsequent trips took me to to Recife (above) to study with a yogi, the urban centers of Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo, and the island city of Florianopolis where my Portuguese teacher (from Brooklyn) spent 2007-2008.
Brazil was wilder than I could have imagined: the food was strange and intriguing, the people were warm and funny; the country had a rich, dark history and could be fantastically beautiful.
Breakfast in Brazil consists of lots of delicious fresh fruit, cakes, coffee, eggs, ham, cheese, yogurt and some unidentifiable things.
But at almost 5,000 miles from New York, Brazil is not a weekend destination. For my last trip, in 2007, I paid with points—otherwise the ticket would have been around $1300 US.
This year, a friend in Rio (who had lived in New York until 2002) tipped me off about cheap airfares. Through BACC.com, a company that specializes in travel to Brazil, I got a ticket to Rio for $361 US (with taxes, $474) just 8 days before departure. Since this kind of bargain is so rare (probably a product of the swine flu scare), I hustled to clear my schedule and get on a plane. (Which, by the way, I almost missed with the slow subway connections and my obsessive avoidance of downtime at the airport!)
It’s pretty much impossible to get a ticket that cheap–and yet I was anxious. I’m supposed to be saving money, not spending! And even as a great deal, $500 is still $500.
But I went. Suddenly—almost absurdly fast—I was in Rio! Damp stone walls, erratic drivers, miles and miles and miles of favelas (shantytowns), men in long shorts and flip flops, that languid walking pace, people sitting in botecos (little bars with finger foods), drinking choppe (draft beer)–and of course, the incredible beach.
Guys playing paddle ball in Florianopolis.
I needed an afternoon nap to shake off the flight. For dinner, we went down to Copacobana to an Italian place, Trattoria, whose special was “Obama Spaghetti with Mussels!” We had golden sole with garlic sauce, and rice cut with greens, a bottle of wine. The exchange rate is just better than 2:1 right now, and in the end my friend paid. Very frugal!
The next night I paid. We went to a place called Galeto, a counter-style rotisserie, also in Copacobana, open into the street, where you eat roast chicken (galinho is a rooster). There was a line. But when we finally got a stool at the “S”-shaped counter, we had a plate of galeto (two small cut-up chickens), and other plates of salad, rice with greens, and farofa (toasted manioc meal) with egg. And very cold Bohemie beers. Delicious! All served by a serious, licensed roaster in a vest and glasses. $20 for two.
Although it’s fall there, we had some hot and sunny days. The day after my arrival was in the high 80s and the beaches were packed—an incredible variety of people swam, surfed, read, napped, played volley ball and paddle ball. It was easy to spot the tourists–they just didn’t look as comfortable in their skin as the locals. The constant stream of vendors made sure you were never without anything, from ice cream to beer to hot cheese (the hot-cheese guys carry around a little brickette-powered oven). I didn’t buy anything except a fresh coconut for the water (coco gelado) overpriced at $1.50, but still worth the experience.
On Sunday I went up to the hill-top neighborhood of Santa Teresa, an artists and ex-pat community far from the beach throngs below. There, I met friends of friends for afternoon choppe and a workout of my rusty Portuguese. Someone bought a litre bottle of beer and all of us had little cups from the bar, then, people who joined the conversation topped up our glasses as is customary. It’s easy to drink a lot in a short time, with all the comings and goings. Especially when you’re nervously covering up your language skills….
From the bar, Bar do Mineiro, I was invited to a lunch party, a big spread of traditional feijoada, at a nearby house poised on the side of a cliff. Monkeys swung in the trees, kids played in the pool, and adults from Brazil, Germany, Argentina and the US drank on the vast stone veranda that overlooked the city. The food never stopped coming–rice, beans, 5 kinds of meat, thinly cut cooked greens, farofa, fired aipim, and then three kinds of dessert. A tour of the enormous, 4-floor house made me wonder if perhaps I should give up my frugal ways and try to live more decadently…
At the end of the afternoon, after a stroll down the cobble-stoned streets in the lowering sun, I stopped with a new friend for a coffee and we listed to a trio play chorro, a melancholy music with a sweet lilt to it. I recognized many of the songs as traditional favorites. I bought my friend his espresso, my only expense of the day.
Tips
Bargain hunting, friends in the know, and the ability to leave at a moment’s notice are all key moves for the frugal traveler to South America.
Travel organizations will often tout themselves as experts only to serve up higher fares than you can find yourself on Orbitz, Expedia, Travelocity, or airlines’ sites. So ask friends and acquaintances who frequently travel to your dream destination where to shop for low fares. Often, they will tip you off about which companies to trust and which to avoid—and what have changed since the last time you went.
Check Travelocity or Orbitz first, then check out the airlines that they list as offering low fares. Often, Delta or United or American Airlines‘ prices are slightly lower still. And, buying tickets directly from the airline means the tickets are more flexible—easier to upgrade or change if necessary. Once you buy from outfits such as Orbitz, you can get locked in without easy or affordable ways out.
Always fly direct unless you have lots of time to spare.
Going when the low fare is offered is also a help. True, because my trip was last minute, I could only secure a week away from work. But, with a friend picking me up at the airport, a free place to stay, and a 2:1 exchange rate in my favor, the trip was doable. And an affordable week on the beaches of Copacobana and Impanema is something I will never turn down. Nor should you.
Cabbage is a vegetable for hard times.
Think of bubble and squeak, the quick Welsh dish of fried cabbage and potato; Cabbage Patch Kids with their patched up clothes; or famous famines and their winters of boiled cabbages.
But there’s no need to be ashamed: ancient Greeks and Romans ate cabbage. Why shouldn’t we?
Cabbage is a glamorously international vegetable, grown prodigiously in China, India, Russia, and Indonesia (as well as Poland and the Ukraine, as you would expect).
For frugal types — or those new to frugal living — cabbage is a gold mine: good for you and cheap. Red cabbage is 69 cents a pound (99 for organic) versus radicchio (its cousin in looks) at $3.99 a pound, and vitamin-packed kale at a minimum of $2.99 a pound.
Cabbage has a lot of vitamin C and glutamine, making it a great anti-inflammatory. It also has some folate and a little bit of protein.
I decided to spend some weeks cooking with cabbage and see how I liked it. I ate the green raw, cooked the red, sampled it pickled and in soup. The following recipes are the result of my experiments. One word of caution: raw cabbage can be verychallenging on the digestion. Not recommended for sensitive guts.
One last word about the humble cabbage: while a slow-witted person might be a cabbagehead, a special someone could be a petit chou.
Green Cabbage Salad with Blue Cheese and Olives (serves 4)
Crunchy and lively with the salty blue cheese and the piquant lime, this is an easy-to-make salad, appetizer, or dinner accompaniment. Serve with trout and white wine for a larger meal. Vegan variation: omit the cheese add salt and pecans (apple optional).
4 cups raw green cabbage (about 1/2 a med head)
8 Tblsp black olives, sliced
4 oz blue cheese, cubed
French dressing
pepper
French Dressing. Put all ingredients in a glass bottle and shake well.
4 oz fresh lime juice (about 4 limes)
2 oz olive oil
salt & pepper
How to assemble:
Slice cabbage into fine ribbons and place in a colander in the sink. Pour a kettle of boiling water over it to make it easier to digest. (Alternately, you could sautee the cabbage for 4 minutes to break it down further.) In 4 soup plates, place 1 cup of the cabbage, top with cheese, olives, and dress. Toss with pepper. Voila!
Sweet & Sour Red Cabbage (serves 6 – 8)
Hearty, tangy, pungent, a good accompaniment for eggs, fish, or meat, this is a classic braised cabbage. It is simple, but has a long cooking time. Adapted from an English cookbook I found in California years ago, The Home Book of Vegetarian Cookery by N.B. and R.B. Highton, 1964.
1 red cabbage (about 1 lb)
1 oz butter
1 small chopped white onion
1 Tblsp brown sugar
1 cooking apple
2 Tblsp apple vinegar
1 grated raw potato
1/4 – 1/2 pint stock
1/2 tsp cayenne (or to taste)
1/2 tsp ground clove (or to taste)
Salt
How to assemble
Shred cabbage finely and wash. In a large saucepan, heat the butter. Add the onion and brown sugar and until brown. Add the cabbage, apple, potato, salt and spices. Stir well. Add the stock. Simmer until tender, about 2 hours. Check periodically and add more liquid if necessary to prevent burning. Taste–it should be sweet and sour. Adjust the seasonings (try adding a little more vinegar to make it sweeter). Serve hot.
Kim Chee or Kimchi (lasts almost a lifetime, feeds everyone)
Delicious, potent, great for digestive health, kim chee is Korea’s national treasure. Said to cure lab animals infected with avian flu virus, this stuff will keep your mouth and belly breathing fire. Perfect for surviving any recession! Enjoy at work but expect to clear the room. To the uninitiated, it can smell as putrid as garbage rotting in the summer sun. To the initiated it is heaven in a pickled form. Yum! Recipe adapated from Fabulous Foods.com.
3 Tblsp plus 1 tsp pickling salt 6 cups water
2 pounds Napa cabbage, cut into 2-inch squares
6 scallions, cut into 2-inch lengths, then slivered
1 1/2 Tblsp minced fresh ginger
2 Tblsp Korean ground dried hot pepper (or other mildly hot ground red pepper)
1 tsp sugar
How to assemble
1. Create a brine by dissolving 3 tablespoons salt in water. Put the cabbage into a large bowl (not plastic or other reactive material) and pour the brine over it. Weight the cabbage down with a plate. Let stand 12 hours.
2. Drain the cabbage and reserve the brine. Mix the cabbage with the remaining ingredients, including the 1 tsp salt. Pack the mixture into a 2-quart jar. Pour enough of the reserved brine over the cabbage to cover it. Push a freezer bag into the mouth of the jar, and pour the remaining brine into the bag. Seal the jar. Let the kimchi ferment in a cool place, at a temperature no higher than 68° F, for 3 to 6 days, until the kimchi is as sour as you like.
3. Remove the brine bag, and cap the jar tightly. Store the kimchi in the refrigerator, where it will keep for months.
A still from “Jogo de Cena” (Playing) 2007 by Eduardo Coutinho. Coutinho ‘interviews’ actress Fernanda Torres in a fake ‘audition.’
What does it say when one of the filmmakers featured at a documentary film festival is 40 minutes late for his scheduled round-table event? True, it’s Friday night in New York, and it’s storming out. True, Brazilians have a more elastic sense of time, and the filmmaker had just arrived from Brazil. Maybe he had gone to some other event that had run late?
“I’d like to say I went to see a wonderful film from Estonia or Mongolia,” said a sheepish João Moreira Salles when at last he took his seat in the already-started panel. “But I did not. I went to see James Bond.”
So went the second day of Documenta Brazil, a documentary film festival hosted at the King Juan Carlos Center at New York University that featured 23 well-chosen films from 21 contemporary Brazilian filmmakers. Humor and a little bit of the absurd permeated the serious event–—which included several catered receptions, live music, and a keynote address by a prominent Brazilian critic and intellectual, José Miguel Wisnik (also an accomplished composer, pianist, and singer).
The crowd was a refreshing blend of students, academics, neighborhood residents, Brazilophiles, Brazilians and friends of the festival. Though people dressed in jeans, sweaters, and parkas, the vibe was elegantly engaged; this audience had a good appreciation of film and culture. For film buffs it was a thrill to mingle with admired filmmakers—João Moreira Salles and Sandra Kogut—who had accompanied their films to the six-day festival.
Having already seen Salles’ latest documentary Santiago in Boston last winter, and Carlos Diegues and Rafael Draguad’s AfroReggae: No Motive Explains War (AfroReggae: Nenhum Motivo Explica a Guerra) at MoMA’s Brazilian film festival in 2007, I was curious to see a broader range of Brazilian documentaries, and what—if anything—filmmakers were addressing outside of the well-documented, almost cliché subjects of Brazilian cinema—life in the slums, police corruption, and hard times in the rural northeast.
Friday’s discussion included Salles, Kogut, Lincoln Center Film Festival director Richard Peña, and two academics—Luz Horne from Princeton, and the moderator Edgardo Diekele.
Kogut emphasized, “Brazilian filmmakers know what’s expected from Brazil is violence and misery—they know people want to see the big issues, but this is changing.”
Salles added that the best Brazilian documentary filmmaking is increasingly not just about its subject, but also about the “grammar” of film, or what the film also says about filmmaking. Diekele held up three examples: Salles’ Santiago (2006), an elusive portrait of his family’s butler; Eduardo Coutinho’s Playing (Jogo de Cena), in which actresses and ordinary women separately recount the women’s tragic stories (2007); and Sandra Kogut’s 2002 documentary The Hungarian Passport (Um Passaporte Húngaro).
Kogut called all three films more subtle stories for Brazil—dot-dot-dots rather than exclamation points. Kogut’s film charts her own quest to receive her Hungarian passport despite overwhelming bureaucratic and cultural obstacles. A Brazilian Jew of Hungarian origins, Kogut is also charting Jewish immigration and Brazil’s early anti-Semitism.
Festival co-director Micaela Kramer, a PhD student in Comparative Literature at NYU, says she got the idea for the festival after being impressed by the work of three prominent filmmakers, João Moreira Salles, Eduardo Coutinho, and Paulo Sacramento. But it took her a year and a half to secure funding, and find a location and a co-director, fellow student Fernando Pérez (“the most Brazilian Chilean I know!” says Kramer).
The project gained momentum after the pair received their first grant, and after the King Juan Carlos I of Spain Center showed an interest in hosting the festival.
While most of Documenta Brazil’s films were made before 2000, the oldest—Eduardo Coutinho’s Santa Marta: Two Weeks on the Hill (Santa Marta: Duas Semanas No Morro) from 1987—gave a nod to Coutinho as the father of Brazilian documentary filmmaking. It also contextualized other works in the festival, having been one of the first to document “the open secret” of impoverished life and police harassment in Rio de Janeiro’s Santa Marta slum.
The festival directors thoughtfully paired Coutinho’s film with News from a Personal War (Noticias de Uma Guerra Particular) (1999) by Salles and co-director Katia Lund. This film returns to the same favela 12 years later by which time the drug war, violence, and police brutality had escalated to an absurd point. The Rio chief of police is on film saying the “war” is no longer about the good guys winning—there are no good guys anymore, and no one is going to win.
In spite of this continued emphasis on the horrors of the drug trade, police corruption, and favela life, I was happy that the festival also included documentaries on other subjects such as immigration (to, from, and within Brazil), romance (as older women looked back on their lives in a macho society), teenage pregnancy, folk artists, and Orson Welles’s visit to Rio in 1942. Brazilian music and musicians were well represented with no fewer than five documentaries.
In fact, Documenta Brazil seemed designed to elevate the form of documentary filmmaking from the status of supporting actor in the Brazilian film world to leading man.
“Documentary filmmakers are often asked when they will make their first feature film,” said João Moreira Salles (whose brother, Walter Salles, is a successful feature film maker) with a chuckle. “But no one would ever approach a director such as Ingmar Bergman and say, ‘Okay with the fiction, but when are you going to make your first documentary?’”
“A festival like Documenta Brazil aims at destabilizing such a hierarchy,” agrees co-director Micaela Kramer. “We are showing that documentary films are as interesting as fiction films.”
Richard Peña, Lincoln Center Film Festival director, adds, “This is a new generation of filmmakers. They don’t claim to speak for a nation, but to speak for themselves.”
IN EARLY August 2008, Margot Andersen’s newly-married, 29-year-old son was hit and killed by a car while crossing a busy highway in Chicago. For Margot, a social worker in Chicago schools for more than 13 years, the pain of the sudden, tragic loss was overwhelming. Enrolled in a yoga teacher-training program, and recently trained in LifeForce Yoga, a type of yoga focused on mood management, Andersen turned to methods she knew would have an immediate affect on her emotional stamina — yogic breathing, visualizations and mantras.
“It’s what’s gotten me through this past month,” says Andersen, 56. “Otherwise I’d be in bed, I’d be horrible.”
When she felt too exhausted to complete daily tasks, Margot used LifeForce’s breath of joy to access untapped energy. To calm down enough to sleep she practiced nadi shodahna (alternate nostril breathing); San kalpas (intentions) and mantras (chants) gave her the strength to leave the house.
“When I had no energy, and could feel myself sinking, I used the breath,” says Andersen.
Andersen also underwent a phone session with Amy Weintraub, the Arizona-based founder of LifeForce Yoga and an international leader in the field of yoga and mental health. Weintraub designed LifeForce to train psychotherapists, social workers and yoga teachers to use classical Hatha yoga methods with their clients. She says the methods work because, “The sense of separation, which is the literal source of depression, is diminished and the sense of connection to oneself and others is enhanced.”
At a time when the practice of physical yoga poses, or asanas, is at an all-time-high (with 15.8 million practitioners nationally, according to Yoga Journal’s most recent survey), psychotherapists and yoga teachers are discovering — or rediscovering — how yogic tools might apply to therapeutic settings. At the same time, many yoga teachers, wanting to be of more service to their students, are borrowing methods from traditional Western psychotherapy. For both sides the goal is the same: integrate these practices to help people help themselves.
Teach Them To Fish
“We’re giving people tools they can use for the rest of their lives,” says Bo Forbes, founder and director of the Center for Integrative Yoga Therapeutics (CIYT) in Boston. “It’s a modality of healing that comes from within the client themselves — it’s not therapist based.”
Lauren, a high school teacher in Queens, NY, entered into “yoga psychotherapy” five months ago, because she felt she needed to talk to someone about the stresses of her job and life. “I was getting weighed down with negativity,” says Lauren.
Working with Joan Stenzler, a licensed social worker and Kripalu-trained yoga teacher, Lauren has tamed her anxiety using meditation, visualization and precepts from yoga philosophy.
“We spend a lot of time talking about the universe and how people react to you and you react to them,” Lauren explains, adding she prefers this process to the traditional talk therapy she had experienced in the past. “These are things my yoga teachers also talk about in regular classes.”
Lauren often applies her newfound coping skills on the job at school. “One of the biggest things to remember in dealing with teenagers is don’t take it personally. Deflecting what’s aimed at me allows me not to carry it through the rest of my day.”
For example, when a tardy child makes a scene about having to sign a late card, Lauren imagines surrounding herself in a white light that bounces back negativity. “It sounds corny, but even if it doesn’t completely work, it definitely puts you in the mindset of analyzing what’s going on and why they are reacting to you that way.”
In-Body Experience
Dr. Kelly McGonigal, Editor in Chief of the International Journal of Yoga Therapy, has noted a recent shift in psychotherapy as therapists, such as Stenzler, turn to yoga for more effective ways to treat clients, especially those with long-standing issues. “What psychotherapists are beginning to realize is that the body has been left out,” says McGonigal.
Opening the way for yoga-based therapeutics are the mindfulness practices of the Buddhist traditions that, over the past 10 years, have been increasingly accepted into clinical settings and taught in American medical schools. According to Paul Fulton, president of the Institute for Meditation and Psychotherapy based in Newton, Massachusetts, empirical trials such as those conducted by Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn of the Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction program (MBSR) at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center have helped establish mindfulness as a viable treatment in the eyes of the medical establishment. In September 2008, Fulton’s own organization launched a new 9-month certificate program in mindfulness and psychotherapy for mental health care providers.
No Touching, Please
However, integrating yoga-based methods into psychotherapeutic work presents inherent challenges. More than just watching the thoughts or the breath, clients and therapists may also be working with the body. Strict licensing standards today protect clients against physical abuses from their psychotherapists, which unfortunately were all too common in the past. The body is taboo.
Ann Friedenheim, a psychotherapist, drug and alcohol counselor and yoga teacher in Allentown, Pennsylvania, gets around this restriction by using very simple yoga-based techniques with her clients, ones that don’t involve touching.
One woman who had a long history of abuse both as a child and as a spouse, came to Friedenheim in physical and psychological pain, barely able to cope with daily tasks. Friedenheim used breath and hands-off bodywork to ease her client’s emotional paralysis. “Every session began with just breathing for five or ten minutes. She always refers back to it. She says, ‘Remember when we started breathing?’ It had a big impact.”
Other practitioners have kept their yoga therapy distinct from their clinical practices, sometimes having separate offices or studios for the two techniques. Boston-based Bo Forbes — who has nearly 20 years experience as a psychotherapist and over 10 years as a yoga teacher — has found yoga-based techniques so effective, she has closed her private practice in order to teach integrative yoga therapeutics, and to supervise the Center for Integrative Yoga Therapeutics in Boston.
“Talking can almost activate and rehearse issues that you’re trying to work through,” says Forbes, whose Elemental Yoga Mind-Body Teacher Training Program has been approved by the American Psychological Association and the National Association of Social Workers as ongoing training for psychotherapists and social workers. “Some people have done 15-20 years of therapy, are motivated and insightful, but they can’t change because their nervous system is holding and retaining its pattern.”
That’s certainly been true for Maria Ray, a Chicago-based flight attendant. When she got out of rehab for alcohol abuse, she knew she didn’t want to go back to traditional therapy. “All of the therapists suggested taking medications or talking about stuff that happened in the past but they could never really solve it,” says Ray.
That was until she stumbled on a Kundalini yoga center whose director, Shabad Kaur Khalsa, was also a licensed counselor. They began their sessions talking through what was happening in the moment and spent the second half doing breathing and meditation exercises, and a few simple poses. “Talking helps with the release, and the meditation brings me full circle,” says Ray. “The relaxation therapy helps to integrate it.”
Ray says friends and colleagues have observed the change. “My friends noticed that my face has gotten more relaxed and there’s a sense of calmness to me from how I used to be.”
“Shabad taught me how to be in control of my own mood,” says Ray, who is now off medications altogether. “It’s been a miracle.”
Down Dog Processing
On the other end of the spectrum, a growing number of yoga teachers who are not licensed to diagnose or prescribe treatments are bringing more traditional Western psychological insights — and training — to bear on their clients’ practices and issues. Ashley Turner of Los Angeles, who recently completed her MA in Counseling Psychology at the Pacifica Graduate Institute, uses tools from her academic work, techniques from her yoga teaching, as well as images, sounds and insights drawn from yoga’s built-in psychology to guide her clients to greater self-awareness.
Stephen Lewis in New York also brings a psychological orientation into individual yoga sessions. Trained in Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy, a form of yoga therapy that incorporates witnessing, dialoguing and reflecting in client-centered sessions, Lewis has also enrolled in an MA program in Counseling for Mental Health and Wellness at NYU’s Steinhart School of Culture, Education, and Human Development. For his clinical internship, he is providing yoga therapy to the psychiatry inpatient unit of New York’s Bellevue hospital. “There’s so much demand, they are hungry for it. I just go where I’m needed,” says Lewis, 31. In a separate project at Bronx Psychiatric Center, Lewis is collaborating with psychiatrist and yoga-practitioner Dr. Elizabeth Visceglia on a two-month trial assessing how yoga helps people with severe mental illness such as schizophrenia.
For some, “yoga psychotherapy” could become a one-stop shop for addressing physical and emotional issues in the same session. Leah Metzger, a client working with Ashley Turner, likes the integrative nature of the sessions. “I can see Ashley for everything,” says the LA-native. “For other things I’m going through like relationships, career, health things. It’s a well-rounded way to grow myself.”
Mala Yoga sits on the second floor above a corner real estate office in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, at arguably one of the cutest intersections in the neighborhood. With coffee shops, restaurants, a Montessori school and a small independent bookstore nearby, this could be Main Street, USA. The church spire rising in the distance completes the picture.
But it’s Court Street, a bustling, residential part of Brooklyn. Run by three yoginis, two who left white-collar careers for yoga, Mala has only a sandwich board outside to mark its presence. It gets most of its students from walk-ins and word of mouth.
Opened in November 2007, Mala bucks current trends of expansion and franchising as one of the smallest studios in the city, at just 700 square feet–including the bathroom. Space is used efficiently: students’ bags and shoes go in one small closet, props in the other. Subs for the week are posted on the bathroom door, and the sign-in desk is tucked up next to the wall inside the practice space.
Such a vibrant place doesn’t feel small. In fact, there’s a bit of a love-fest going on at Mala. Students praise the smart, down-to-earth teachers, and teachers adore their students.
“We have really fantastic students here,” says Angela Clark, of of Mala’s co-founders. “They’re really into practicing, really into knowing who they are.”
Mala’s warm community of professionals, freelancers, and new parents is also remarkable.
“People are gregarious here, we all talk to everyone,” says Robyn Sklarson, VP of Library Content and Development for Sony Pictures Television who assists classes as a part of Mala’s new-teacher apprenticeship program. “If it’s a really packed class, everyone gets cozy and squishes up next to each other.”
Popular classes sell out at 26 – 30 people—when there’s an inch or less between mats—and so students get to know each other. Teachers walk through the class before it begins, learning names and discussing injuries or issues.
“You never have to worry about not getting an adjustment or getting lost in the shuffle,” says Sklarson.
Mala has done exceptionally well in its first year of business thanks to its location and handpicked staff, but also to the founders’ pre-existing popularity at other studios. One Mala fan, Rick Jakobson, a professional cook, had practiced with all three founders at Area Yoga just a few blocks up Court Street. “I’m teacher-centric–I like to hear the same voices,” says Jakobson.
Co-founder Stephanie Creaturo explains the vision that infuses the studio. “Practice is a thread — the beads on the mala are your life.” All three founders wear mala beads that have been blessed by Amma, the hugging saint.
“You come to the practice in your 20s, keep practicing into your 30s, as you go through family life, and get older,” says Creaturo. “Yoga can be with you through the stages of your life. That’s how we approach it.”
Mala Yoga 162 Court Street, Brooklyn, NY, 11201 718 237 9642 malayoganyc.com
It’s surprising to get off on the 17th floor of a pre-war factory building, high above the crowded, semi-seedy streets between the Port Authority bus terminal and Penn Station, and walk into the bright colors and clean lines of Om Factory NYC. With a garment factory staffed by Cantonese-speaking women across the hall, Om Factory is an oasis of positive vibes, smiling faces, and good old-fashioned hard work.
The Friday night of my first AcroYoga class at Om Factory, I was exhausted. The staff at reception, and the space itself, was immediately soothing. From the glittering sliver clothes hooks, to the marigold-orange and avocado-green walls, to the gold-edged sun yantra in the Yantra studio, Om Factory was clearly constructed with love and enthusiasm (and maybe a little bit of obsessive planning).
Faramarz, a Swiss-trained architect originally from Iran, is responsible for the riotous color and warm welcome. An extreme-sports aficionado, and a yogi since 1996, he dreamed of opening a wellness center in New York, his adopted home. In 2004, he took a yoga teacher training at Laughing Lotus, and in 2006, Faramarz opened Om Factory in New York’s garment district, 11 floors above his architectural office, with Harvard-trained psychologist and yogi, Allyson Pimentel.
“I wanted to open a yoga place that was really not judgemental, not guru-oriented, where people could feel at home, where people could feel free,” says Faramarz, who uses Om Factory after hours as his apartment. Neighborhood people, such as fashion designers, garment workers and staff from not-for-profits, fill the daytime classes.
Originally conceived as a vinyasa studio that would offer nutritional counselling, psychotherapy, fundraisers, and kirtans, Om Factory has included AcroYoga since it opened. A July 2008 AcroYoga retreat to Fire Island drew almost 40 students, and monthly AcroYoga jams are filled to capacity.
Instructor Kathryn Ulrich, 33, says Om Factory has been the first studio in New York to adopt AcroYoga and support its development. Director Emily Conradson adds that Om Factory is also the only studio in the city with Ana Forrest-trained instructors. “It’s a hub. Other forms of yoga not represented in New York come through Om Factory.”
Julie Royall, 25, of Queens, NY, who came to her first AcroYoga class the same night I did, was enthusiastic. “You come into a room where you don’t know people and you have to create trust with them. Then you’re flying. It’s awesome.”
Joaquin Cruz, 31, a fiber optics technician with Verizon in New Jersey, agrees. “It’s infectious, this place. Once the AroYoga class starts you relax and enjoy yourself, sweat and get a good workout.”
“But my favorite part is the dynamic here,” he added. “It’s a tight-knit community.”
Om Factory NYC, 265 W37th Street, 17h floor, NY NY 10018 212 616 8662 omfactorynyc.com
In the idle dreams of budding writers, one very popular motif is that of serving at the right hand of a Great Author. There you are, sipping coffee in her sun-dappled kitchen, trading bons mots as you garden together. You become her indispensable sounding board; she begs to see your work; she introduces you to her agent. And lo! The torch is passed.
For me, an aspiring narrative journalist just out of college, it really was a dream come true when The New Yorker writer Susan Orlean offered me a job as her part-time assistant. She paid me very generously for a few hours a week of research, clerical and personal-assisting duties. I tagged along to The New Yorker’s offices and lingered in her beautiful Riverside Drive apartment, watching a writer at work. That was the year Adaptation, the super-meta Charlie Kaufman film version of her great nonfiction novel The Orchid Thief, came out, and Orlean graciously invited me to a special preview screening at the high-rise Sony Building. It was around Christmas, and as I rode home in a taxi—a rare indulgence at the time—past the blazingly lit shops on Madison Ave., I felt I had glimpsed a glamorous world that would soon be mine.
Without clear career tracks outside academia, writers have always needed both financial and moral support from their more established counterparts. Think of Samuel Beckett as a student in Paris, reading to an aged James Joyce. Today, if anything, the economic necessity is even more pressing. MFA and journalism programs are more crowded than ever, yet paying opportunities anywhere near the field are scarcer. Gone are the days when a writer could live the bohemian life in the East Village for months on one book review. As little magazines give way to blogs, university instructors become underpaid adjuncts, and entry-level jobs in newsrooms and at mainstream magazines are outnumbered by unpaid internships, private assistantships are left as an increasingly important option for both paying bills and paying dues.
Usually, assistants work part-time as a combination of researcher, admin and gofer, and earn between $10 and $20 an hour. At the superstar level, personal assistants may be underwritten by the writer’s magazine or lecture bureau, meaning a more lucrative, salaried, full-time position. But normally the arrangement is informal, for better or worse.
Most writers’ assistants see the job at first as a much-needed way to make ends meet. Only gradually do they realize the mentorship possibilities. “My goal going into the job was simply to make some extra money,” says Tara Bracco, a performance poet who worked part time for Fear of Flying author Erica Jong. “I was trying to figure out how to do something I care about and still be able to pay my rent in New York.”
Joelle Hann, a poet and editor for Bedford/St. Martin’s Press who worked for the poet Galway Kinnell in 1999, while she was at New York University, says that while working with him she felt that she was in the presence of “some other being.” More practically, she also points out, “He paid $15 an hour, which was very helpful, because on-campus jobs only paid $7.50.”
Getting these jobs is a matter of luck. The more famous the author, the more likely they get unsolicited applications, and many top-tier novelists and journalists prefer to work alone. In my case, Orlean happened to be visiting Yale when I was a junior, and I had the chutzpah to buttonhole her after her speech. Most assistant hopefuls I spoke with found their jobs by chance, word of mouth or the occasional Craigslist posting.
Chemistry is important, too. Emily Gordon is the managing editor of Print magazine and the editor of emdashes, a blog about The New Yorker magazine. In 2000, she hit it off with former New York Observer columnist Ron Rosenbaum while interviewing him for Newsday. “We were sitting, drinking wine, having a great time and my tape recorder ran out of batteries and he went to get more. At some point he mentioned that he was hopelessly disorganized and needed an assistant,” Gordon says.
Jed Lipinski, a freelance writer, started out as an intern at McSweeney’s, and last year scored a part-time job with Sean Wilsey, the magazine’s senior editor and author of the confessional memoir Oh the Glory of It All. “We hit it off right away,” Lipinski says. “We both skateboarded as kids. We’re both skinny. He’d been expelled from St. Mark’s School in Massachusetts and so were a bunch of my friends.”
In New York, both Columbia University’s MFA and the new Hunter College MFA programs have formalized these positions with the Hertog Fellowship, which pairs a handful of students with writers like Nathan Englander (author of The Ministry of Special Cases) for a semester of research.
It’s an apprenticeship with designated hours for both research and mentoring, says Patricia O’Toole, director of the Hertog program at Columbia, which pays a $4,000 tuition credit. “Many develop a relationship that continues far beyond the semester,” she says. “They get to see in a very up-close way how an author thinks about writing a book.”
These associations with authors rarely lead in a straight line to publication. Nevertheless, many assistants stay on the literary path one way or another, and many credit their time as assistants with showing them the way. Bracco says her stint working for Jong at 22 shaped her into the feminist performance poet she is today at 32. “Erica was the first published writer I had ever met, which was just a whole other world for me,” Bracco says. “It was very empowering for me at that age to realize that people could make a living as a writer.”
Part of the excitement of an assisting job is just the proximity to greatness: chatting up Joyce Maynard; being mistaken for Dave Eggers on the phone. Yet being so close to success can also take the bloom off, or feed insecurities that are always so close to the surface for aspiring writers. Personally, I grew up with the not-unusual dream of being a staff writer for The New Yorker. Seeing the job up close, while coming really no nearer to it myself, was bittersweet.
“I wouldn’t say I looked at it and I was like, I want to hit it big someday,” says one assistant to a bestselling author. “You see the extent to which it takes over your life. If she was away from the computer she would call me and say, check the Amazon ranking, check the Audiobook ranking. She’d get off a six-hour flight and call me from the airport and be like, ‘OK, what’s the status?’ This is something that having a huge success does to you. I don’t think writers of small books do that.”
Caitlin McDonnell, now a poet and writing adjunct at several colleges, got intimations of another downside of fame when she worked for the novelist E.L. Doctorow. “He asked me to create an account for him on Amazon, and I chose the password ‘Ragtime,’ the title of his most famous novel,” she says. “He was staring at me blankly for a minute, and then says, ‘what if Beethoven was only remembered for the 5th symphony?’ ”
Sometimes, instead of becoming a role model or alter ego, the boss-writer is just pure ego. An infamous feature in the satirical magazine Spy back in 1989 chronicled the travails of 300 “Vedettes,” assistants to the former The New Yorkerwriter Ved Mehta. The blind memoirist supposedly asked one of them if she was menstruating, based on smell.
THE FLIP SIDE OF HERO WORSHIP
One 23-year-old journalist thought she’d found a “great piece of good luck” when a well-known feminist writer saw a piece she’d published in an alternative paper, called her up and invited her to be her research assistant. “I was just about to move to New York and I really needed a job,” she says. But not this job.
“It was a horrible experience in every way, no nuance or subtlety to it,” she says. Working overtime for $200 a week, the writers’ assistants were subject to comments like, “Do you have a learning disability or something?” The young journalist quit after two weeks to seek a step up to minimum wage.
No matter which harried genius you work for, some assistants’ duties are universal. I had one, somewhat disastrous, weekend of dog sitting. Gordon helped Rosenbaum declutter his apartment, negotiate e-mail and tend to Stumpy, his aged cat. “If you were Ron’s assistant, you were Stumpy’s assistant too,” she says. “I don’t think I could have done the work if Stumpy hadn’t liked me.”
Other tasks are more specific to the author’s world. Wilsey once asked Lipinski to download all of the songs mentioned in Haruki Murakami’s novels. “Luckily, he forgot about that one,” Lipinski says. Even more idiosyncratically, Lipinski edited hours of the author’s childhood home videos into a highlights reel for a talk show appearance and spent weeks transcribing his teenage journals, which ran to hundreds of pages. Through the immersion, Lipinski achieved a kind of mind meld with Wilsey. “I’d see him and just want to hug him or talk with him for eight hours about what it’s like to be a guy. I started writing journals about his journals. I thought I was Sean Wilsey for a day.”
AN INSIDER’S VIEW
Mentoring is always a delicate relationship to negotiate, never more so than with work as fiercely private and internal as writing. What’s remarkable to me is the generosity so many assistants testified to, the same that I experienced myself. Throughout the year that I worked for Orlean and afterwards, she was unhesitating in providing me with introductions, advice, encouragement and, most important, the feeling that she valued my opinion.
When Doctorow was looking for an assistant in the late 1990s, he specifically asked someone at the MFA program at NYU to find him a poet, Caitlin McDonnell says. “He didn’t want a fiction writer who was going to be asking him to read their work all the time.” Nevertheless, after he hired McDonnell, their friendship grew to the point that he eventually asked to see McDonnell’s memoir-in-progress. “I think in the end he was mad that I hadn’t asked him to look at it,” she says.
Doctorow advised her on rewrites, in a long, thoughtful letter, and introduced McDonnell to his editor, who also gave her a careful read and advised McDonnell to put aside the book for a few years. She’s working on the memoir now, 10 years later. “He was really sweet to me,” she says. “Even in the way he read the manuscript, he was being fatherly. It was a book about being lost and trying to grow up and he read it that way.”
As Ezra Pound says, “The study of literature is hero-worship,” and at its best moments, an assistant’s life brings with it feelings of inspiration, not inadequacy. “There are these people who exist out in the ether, whose names are on these books you love, and next thing you know you’re sitting in their kitchen, having coffee, talking about the things you’re scribbling on alone in your apartment,” says Sara Nelson, a Hunter College MFA student who spent a semester as a Hertog fellow working for Kathryn Harrison. “You see that they have their own struggles with their own work—that the struggles are part of the process.”
When Raquel Prieto moved from Northampton, Mass., to Boston in January, there was one thing she sought as urgently as an affordable living situation and a job: an advanced yoga class.
As a dedicated yogi, she wanted to work on meditation and on poses, or asanas, requiring a lot of strength and flexibility and a deep mental focus.
Even after spending $700 and two months trying out studios, she still hadn’t found a place she could build on the advanced practice she developed in a Northampton studio. So she patched together a combination of home practice, classes at a nearby yoga center, visits to a meditation center and trips back to Northampton.
“I’m not thrilled,” said Ms. Prieto, 23. “It’s hit or miss.” Her search for satisfaction, she said, “was a huge emotional thing. I got depressed.”
With a yoga studio seemingly on every corner, it might appear counterintuitive for any yoga class to be in short supply. But Ms. Prieto’s experience is not unique; many seasoned practitioners report having a hard time finding challenging classes.
The reason is simple. Yoga has evolved from a passion for the few into a mainstream pursuit. There are 15.8 million adults practicing yoga, according to Yoga Journal’s recent “Yoga in America” study, with almost one third of them practicing for a year or less. The study also found that the number of people interested in trying yoga tripled from 2004 to 2008 to an estimated 18.3 million.
Since catering to the legions of more novice practitioners makes the most business sense, most of the classes at yoga centers are geared toward the basic and intermediate levels.
“Things have swayed backward from very advanced asana practice,” said Jasmine Tarkeshi, a director of Laughing Lotus Yoga Center, which has studios in New York and San Francisco.
Prime-time offerings must cater to the largest group of students, she added. “We have to make it accessible for everyone, especially those evening slots when most people can come.” Smaller advanced classes are typically relegated to less-desirable midday slots.
Part of the problem, say many teachers and practitioners, is a scarcity of instructors capable of guiding students into a more-advanced practice. These days, they say, many master teachers travel around the world giving workshops, another result of the profitable explosion in yoga’s popularity. Americans spend $5.7 billion a year on yoga classes, products, equipment, clothing and media, up 87 percent from 2004, the Yoga Journal study found.
While it is hard to accurately tell how many people have advanced practices, especially given the range of what constitutes “advanced,” a survey by the chain Yoga Works this year showed that 10 percent of its students self-identified as advanced. Further, the Yoga Journal study estimated that almost 12 percent of those practicing yoga have been doing so for 10 years or more, which at least demonstrates a strong commitment.
There are some generally accepted markers for what makes a student advanced. Barring injury, they are comfortable holding a headstand (considered an advanced beginner’s pose) for several minutes or more. They work on free-standing handstands, and attempt deep backbends, forward bends, twists and other arm balances. If they’re truly advanced, they don’t radiate smugness as they practice difficult postures.
“Lots of young strong people want crazy tricks, and that’s fun and part of it, but in my view that’s not advanced at all,” said Annie Carpenter, 50, a senior teacher at Yoga Works in Santa Monica, Calif.
Advanced yogis work on breathing techniques and focus, since mental acuity eventually helps them transition into meditation, considered the ultimate goal of yoga. Even if advanced students can’t find the fullest expression of a pose, they will try it with concentration and a sense of humor.
“You go to advanced to have that same feeling you had as a beginner, that sense of wonder that no one would believe what you did today,” said Liz Buehler, 34, a director of the new Yoga High studio on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
Cyndi Lee, the founder and director of OM Yoga Center in Manhattan, said that just the notion of an advanced class can scare some people off, but that her studio emphasizes the process, not the end point. “Advanced does not mean you are already advanced,” said Ms. Lee, 54. “It means you are ready to learn and practice advanced asanas.”
OM recently added advanced-level classes to prime-time spots on the schedule after students began requesting more of them.
Many students who are determined to keep progressing have enough knowledge to practice on their own. But they are also looking for skilled guidance and a community of like-minded practitioners. Others might work privately with a teacher, but the cost (from $75 to $150 an hour) can be prohibitive over time. Many take extra workshops, including teacher-training programs, to satisfy the craving for more knowledge and the chance to practice deeper poses.
NO BEGINNERS HERE Aarona Pichinson performing a move at the Kula Yoga Project in TriBeCa during a two-hour advanced yoga class. Credit: Christian Hansen for The New York Times
Things weren’t always so arduous. Alan Brown of Manhattan began practicing yoga in the 1990s, when classes were smaller and there were fewer inexperienced teachers. Yoga enthusiasts were a small group striving to see what they could do next. “The classes were very advanced,” Mr. Brown said, and the people were devoted.
Though he has managed to find classes that he looks forward to, Mr. Brown, a film director and writer, believes that over time he has slid backward to a more intermediate-level practice. “We talk about it,” he said of his classmates from years past. “How great classes are so much harder to find now.”
Jamie Bishton, 47, who recently returned to his native Los Angeles after more than 20 years in New York, has felt a similar frustration. “I ended up going to general, open-level classes and always doing the same 14 poses,” Mr. Bishton said.
He enrolled in a teacher-training program without intending to teach. Once he graduated, he found that he knew more than many teachers leading open-level classes.
Mr. Bishton, who had a dance career in New York and is now an executive in his family’s auto business, cobbles together a practice from classes at several Los Angeles studios. But with commuting time a concern, he often ends up at Century City Equinox, the gym near his house. He has been lucky: the gym is fairly new and allowed him to design a yoga class advanced enough for his needs.
Ultimately, for those who want to learn difficult poses, breathing techniques, and subtle work with body energies, a senior teacher is an important guide. “If you’re going to do really challenging postures that ask a lot of your body, you need someone you trust to take you there,” said Kino MacGregor, who, at 30, is one of the youngest certified teachers in the demanding Ashtanga yoga tradition.
Ms. Buehler of Yoga High cautions that it its not just advanced students who will suffer from a lack of higher-level classes. “If people who were beginners five years ago continue to practice,” said Ms. Buehler, who teaches a weekly two-hour master class, “we will need to be able to offer them something more than just a midlevel challenge.”
Seeking a deeper yoga practice? Here are a range of advanced classes that are favorites among high-level students.
NEW YORK Kula Yoga Project, 28 Warren Street, Fourth Floor (212) 945-4460 http://www.kulayoga.com
Advanced flow yoga by Schuyler Grant, Fridays at 4:15 p.m.
Ms. Grant teaches several creative Vinyasa classes in TriBeCa. Emphasis is on strength, stamina and breath work.
CALIFORNIA Yoga Works, 2215 Main Street, Santa Monica (310) 664-6470
www.anniecarpenter.com. Level 2-3 class with Annie Carpenter, Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays at 10:45 a.m.
Known as a teacher’s teacher, Ms. Carpenter uses a style that blends asana with exploration of subtle muscular and skeletal movements, breath work (pranayama) within movements and meditation.
MASSACHUSETTS BKS Iyengar Yogamala of Cambridge,
St. Mary’s Church, 8 Inman Street, Cambridge, (781) 648-3455
www.yoganow.net
Level 5 with Patricia Walden, Wednesdays at 1:30, by permission.
Ms. Walden, a highly accredited Iyengar yoga instructor, teaches a Level 5 class, the highest in the Iyengar system. Emphasis is on alignment, poses, healing and discovering one’s true nature.
FLORIDA Miami Life Center,
736 Sixth Street, Miami Beach
(305) 534-8988
Mysore-style Ashtanga with Kino MacGregor, Monday to Friday at 10 a.m.
Ms. MacGregor leads Mysore, or traditional-style practice, up to the fourth series. The highest level in Ashtanga is the sixth series. Many people don’t make it to the second series.
ILLINOIS Yoga View, 2211 North Elston Avenue, Suite 200, Chicago
(773) 342-9642
www.jimbennitt.com Level 3 with Jim Bennitt, Mondays at 12:30 p.m.
Mr. Bennitt, a former clerk at the Chicago Board Options Exchange, teaches at Yoga View and two other studios.
This class, the highest level he teaches, weaves breathing and meditation techniques into a demanding physical practice.
AT 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning, students wait anxiously to be buzzed in through the heavy, wrought-iron gates at 142 Rua Dr. Gabriel dos Santos. Beyond lies a large, colonial house with a broad, wrap-around veranda. As students march upstairs to the old-fashioned classrooms, the wide-plank steps creak noisily underfoot. By 3p.m., schooled in the basics of documentary film making, they’re back on the street—shooting their first video on a digital video camera.
While this scene might sound typical, these students are not from New York University’s illustrious film school, nor the well-funded School of Cinematic Arts at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. They won’t be driving off to Sundance anytime soon. (If they go, they’ll be taking a 10-hour international flight.)
Rather, these students are enrolled at Academia Internacional de Cinema (AIC), a small, independent film school that’s located in the residential Higienópolis neighborhood of São Paulo, Brazil.
Chasing a dream, AIC’s founders Steven Richter (an American), and Flavia Rocha (a Brazilian), co-founded the Academia in 2004 with their friend Ram Devineni (American). Richter, who had worked as the Production Director for Trafika Films in the U.S., briefly considered opening the school in Brooklyn. But when Rocha met some generous Brazilian bureaucrats at a Manhattan cocktail party, the couple decided to base the school in Brazil.
“Our goal was to launch an independent film school that developed independent filmmakers. It was to empower individuals to go out and have a vision and the know-how in all the areas in the art and craft of filmmaking,” says Richter, 36, who is AIC’s director and majority owner with Rocha, 34. (The couple are married.)
Richter, who had taught film to underprivileged students in the Bronx and was also an educator and course developer for the Seattle Film Institute, designed AIC to meet the needs of students who wanted to learn all aspects of filmmaking by actually making films. In Brazil, where major film schools typically require years of coursework before filmmaking begins, the Academia’s hands-on approach was a welcome change. (It was the first and is still the only independent film school in Brazil to offer a full-time program.) As of 2007, the school—which increases its programming by 15-20% every year—had 80 full-time film students and 300 part-timers taking workshops and intensives.
“Most programs available in Brazil are geared towards people who can afford it,” says Devineni, 35, who handles international relations for the school, fostering important connections with industry insiders in the U.S. Devineni also recently established Bollywood Brazil, bringing Bollywood films and productions to Brazil and vice versa. “We wanted to make it more open and democratic—anyone can apply—and if they’re diligent they can do well.”
The Academia is not unlike other Brazilian film schools in that it’s mostly comprised of middle and upper-class students in their mid-twenties. But while most film schools accept only 10-12 people, AIC accepts anyone—even if they don’t have an extensive portfolio. The school also makes a concerted effort to be inclusive, offering bolsas (scholarships) to low-income students, some of whom come from favelas in São Paulo and Rio (known for their poverty and drug and gang activity).
The Academia originally opened in the southern city of Curitiba, where the city government found the school subsidized housing in a former industrial neighborhood. But soon discovering the limitations of this relationship, Richter and Rocha relocated the school to its current spot in São Paulo.
“The school is now 100% private money,” says Richter, “That gives us freedom but makes things difficult, too.” The school relies exclusively on student tuition and grants to help them bring in international faculty such as Argentinean director Lucrecia Martel (“The Holy Girl”), Polish cinematographer Grzegorz Kedzierski, American Allison Anders (“Gas, Food, Lodging” screenwriter), and Steven Hopkins (director, “Trembling before G-d”). Most of the Brazilian faculty continue to work in film.
Brazilian writer Marcelo Carneiro da Cunha, 50, whose 15th book will be published this May, teaches scriptwriting at AIC. He says the Academia is important in the landscape of Brazilian film, “because it has a very practical view of filmmaking. It is not academic, and this helps improve the quality of the students’ films enormously.”
Former student Érico Rassi, 35, adds that because students work all crew positions (lights, sound, directing, etc.) on one another’s films, they quickly become very skillful. They also make connections that last well beyond school. “It is a college of art so you get to know a lot of people who have the same lines of thought as you. You make connections—your friends become your colleagues.” Rassis’ 10-minute film, “Um Pra Um” (One to One, 2006) made during his one semester at the Academia, has been shown in festivals throughout Brazil and won first prize at Rio’s International Short Film Festival in 2007.
Despite its emphasis on the practical side of filmmaking, the Academia sees itself as an art school that teaches filmmaking rather than a technical school that teaches craft. Students have created over 1,000 short films to date, with full-time students directing 14 films in both film and video, and acting as crew on at least 15 others in their graduating year alone. The majority of students are just beginning to enter festivals, win prizes, and get distribution for their projects.
Aside from Rassi, who continues to work full-time in advertising (as many Brazilian filmmakers must to support themselves), graduate Cristiano Burlan’s work is getting recognition: his first feature film, “Corações Desertos” (Deserted Hearts, 2006) was selected for the New Directors competition in the 30th International Film Festival of São Paulo, South America’s biggest film festival. His documentary “Construção” (Construction, 2006) was accepted to Tudo Verdade (It’s All True) an important documentary festival held (simultaneously) in São Paulo and Rio, as well as other festivals in Brazil and Cuba. He now teaches at AIC.
To help bring in new students and diversify their offerings, the Academia added a one-year creative writing program in February 2007. The program, Criação Literária, has a broader curriculum than the ones available at other schools in São Paulo, the seat of some of Brazil’s most powerful literary publishers. Already it has 30 full-time students.
“There are only small workshops in São Paulo,” says Rocha, who directs the writing program and has an MFA in poetry from Columbia University. Her bilingual book of poems “The Blue House Around Noon/A Casa Azul ao Meio-Dia,” from Travessa dos Editores, was published in 2005. “This is a different kind of commitment, much more extensive.”Rocha, also a working journalist and the former director of communications and publicity at the school, invites writers she admires to run the poetry, fiction, and non-fiction workshops. “There are some talented students in the course and we hope that it will have an effect on the São Paulo writing community.”
The film students have all the necessary equipment and facilities at their disposal, including two sound studios and a screening room, ten Macintosh computers with Final Cut Pro 6, and about ten cameras in various formats, including 16mm. Lighting and sound gear, plus post-sound mixing and editing equipment are also available, as is a library with more than 500 films on DVD. Quality used equipment can be very hard to find in Brazil’s relatively small film industry, and extremely expensive to purchase outright.
Additionally, Brazil’s major arts funding is closely tied to heavily bureaucratic government programs at the federal, state, and city levels that allow corporations to sponsor artists instead of paying taxes. This can lead to problems—lack of sponsorship because of a film’s subject matter and implicit favoritism when corporations want to continue funding an experienced artist instead of supporting new artists. When funding is granted but slow to get past administrative hurdles, it can delay the completion of a project—even for established filmmakers. It took Phillipe Barcinski, the award-winning film and TV director, five years to make his latest film, “Não Por Acaso” (Not by Chance, 2007).
With the exception of big-name filmmakers such as Fernando Meirelles (“The Constant Gardener,” “City of God”) and Walter Salles (“Motorcycle Diaries,” “Central Station”), Brazil produces few films that make it beyond the country’s own borders—or that even gain a respectable audience within them. “National production was seen as seen as third class. What everyone was watching and reading was American—better quality,” says Juliana Faria, Senior Analyst for research and acquisition at GloboSat, a pay-TV section of Globo Network.
However, citing the freedoms that digital technology affords, AIC co-founder Devineni says that he, Rocha, and Richter took inspiration from the ethos of 70’s filmmaking in the U.S., “Spike Lee and Martin Scorsese figured out how to raise money and get their films made; they worked on every aspect of them, that’s how it was.” They hope that AIC graduates will not only approach filmmaking—and secure funding—in the same DIY spirit but also gain wide audiences both in Brazil and abroad.
Acclaimed documentarian João Moreira Salles, winner of the Cinema Brazil Grand Prize for his 2003 film “Nelson Freire” (and brother of Walter Salles), says he feels optimistic not only about the new crop of film technicians graduating from Brazilian film institutes, but also about the type of artistic films new graduates might make. Especially, it seems, those who have graduated from independent-minded schools like the Academia. “I am very hopeful that something really good will come from it. Something formally different that says something new.”
When circumstances kept Nashville-natives Tom and Daphne Larkin from moving to California in 2004, the last thing on their minds was opening their own yoga studio. But as experienced yoga teachers, they realized they had to listen to the obstacles.
Three of four planned trips to LA had fallen through when a friend suggested they see a space on Hillsboro Road-—just a few doors up from Nashville’s famous Bluebird music club. That changed their minds for good. “Daphne called me right away. It was just so perfect,” says Tom, 40.
Daphne, 42, agrees, “We liked the space and thought, this is what we’re supposed to do—be in the flow, in the current.”
The idea of bringing some Shiva Rea-inspired fluidity into Nashville’s yoga scene was understandably tempting. Iyengar yoga—which both Tom and Daphne had studied before discovering Shiva Rea, their long-time teacher—had dominated Music City for many, many years.
Wallace Joiner of the Yoga Society of Nashville (est. 1977), says, “Jan Campbell and June LaSalvia were the first yoginis to teach in Nashville, and that was over 40 years ago.” Even today, most of the dozen or so studios in Nashville teach the Iyengar tradition. Only one other studio in town teaches vinyasa. There was lots of room for expansion.
Sanctuary for Yoga Body and Spirit opened in October 2004 a few miles from downtown Nashville, in the affluent Green Hills neighborhood. With help from family, Tom and Daphne painted the walls vibrant colors, constructed a cute boutique, and imported ornately carved wooden screens (which help to block out the Walgreen’s red-neon sign that shines in from across the street).
They began with an ambitious roster of 20 classes, all of which they taught. “At first we were excited that even one or two people were coming. We aimed for 5.” In little more than two years, attendance has grown to a steady 200 and 250 students per week. Now students ask when they plan to expand.
“It’s been successful beyond our wildest expectations,” says Tom, a former Web designer who now runs Sanctuary full time.
“We taught what we were learning,” pixie-haired Daphne adds. “The community followed.”
In spite of the studio’s success, Daphne has kept her full-time job as director of online marketing for the Country Music Association and the couple still teach 19 of the studio’s 25 weekly classes. They encourage their 6 staff teachers to bring their own expertise to their vinyasa teaching whether it be in Anusara or therapeutics.
But the vision is theirs. “We want to allow for creativity and freedom of expression in all of yoga’s forms, but especially vinyasa,” says Daphne, a former dancer and actress. This “melting pot” approach was inspired by teachings they witnessed in LA where established teachers blended influences from all over, while holding true to their own style.
This approach seems to work for their clientele who are as much Nashville locals as film and music people in Nashville on business. “The music industry brings a lot of people here—musicians, executives, celebrities, film-types,” says Tom. “People drop in and feel at home. It’s more like the yoga they are used to in LA.”
Several A-list actors and musicians are regulars, but the vibe at Sanctuary remains friendly, relaxed, and intimate. The evening I practiced there, two newcomers to the studio were welcomed and made comfortable. Regulars were greeted by name, and several people stayed after class to chat with the Larkins.
Just back from a trip to the Bahamas with country star LeAnn Rimes, one of Tom’s private clients, Tom and Daphne are excited about the future. “We see traveling a lot more, giving workshops,” says Daphne. The couple will be giving their signature Yoga Groove workshops in Kentucky and Ohio this summer, and hope to expand to Memphis, Atlanta, and L.A. in the near future. “But right now we’re just so grateful to have a fantastic community here.”
Tom agrees, “The community is very warm. People enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes we have to quiet people down so that we can start the class.”