The Mythical Yogi

This weekend marks one year since I began practicing Yoga; much progress has been made and the benefits are plenty. My latest session was almost a revelation.  

After a long set of asanas, I was lying in Savasana, focusing my intention on my inner eye when I suddenly astral projected through the ceiling and found myself being guided by a Sherpa climbing the Himalayas. 

Then, a massive snow squall fell upon us and we were blinded by the white. Through the howling wind, the Sherpa’s voice cried out, “The jewel is in the lotus,” as we tumbled down the mountainside. Fear not, though, for I landed safely on my mat, chanting “om mani padhme hum.”

STOP THE PRESSES! 

That never happened. 

In fact, I am no more enlightened today than I was yesterday, and probably know less now than I did back in college when I thought I knew everything. Just ask my dear old friend Karen about that.

The real benefits of my Yoga practice have been twofold: increased strength, flexibility and balance, which is crucial as we age. Oh, the inevitable decline. Also, the meditative aspects of a vinyasa flow help to ease my mind, at least for a short while. 

However, I am still struggling with certain poses. The real far out pretzel stuff is beyond my pliability; and handstands and headstands are not something I should mess with. Meanwhile, my incredibly bad web-like feet make certain balance poses a real challenge. 

When I was taking lessons last summer/fall, the instructor once remarked “It’s all in your mind.” And I was like, “no, it’s my feet.” But she insisted. 

To demonstrate my point, before the next lesson, I struck Tree Pose with my sneakers on, and she says, “I knew you could do it.” 

Then I took my shoes off and popped my orthotics out and said, “It’s not in my head, it’s in da-feet.”

Now, my head may in fact be stuck some place, but I know my body and mind, and my limitations, far better than any Yoga instructor. And there are always modifcations available.

Besides, I am wary of all the woo-woo stuff, and skeptical of “mysticism” in general. So, buying into the whole “Yogi” thing is unlikely. 

I also have my doubts about its so-called sister “science of life,” ayurveda. There is no scientific evidence or data that supports this Ancient Indian medicine; and it will not give us a vaccine for the dreaded Covid 19 corona virus…yikes! Then again western scientists seem baffled as well. 

Speaking of baffled, can you say Joe Biden? Beats Bolshevik Bernie, I guess....only tomorrow knows what will become of Agent Orange. "Don't follow leaders, watch your parking meters." (Dylan)

No worries, however, it’s like Machiavelli opined centuries ago, “True power lies behind the throne.”

But let me not digress. 

Anyway, practicing Yoga has enhanced my well-being overall, so I’ll stick with it. At the same time, I’ve got no need for a guru, or being  a teacher either; after all, I’m just a humble guy trying to get by in life.

Given the many missteps I’ve taken, I have no business telling anyone how to live or to be happy. Like the Yogi chant goes, “ong namo guru dev nomo,” which loosely translated means I bow to the teacher within.  

In other words, trust yourself. 

Nor have I plunged into Yoga blindly. As previously mentioned, I did take 20 or so classes over a period of months last year. I’ve also picked a few books on the topic. My most recent read was by an accomplished Canadian Yoga instructor I’d never heard of.

His point was to embrace the 8 limbs of Yoga which will lead to a path of letting go, mostly of our innate fear and/or denial of death. As it turns out, this guy died of an overdose of fentanyl-laden street drugs about three years ago. He apparently was battling bi-polar disorder and was about to go public with his travails. 

So, he may have been a renowned Yogi, but Yoga couldn’t save him. And the untoward sexual conduct of certain other Yogicians has been well-documented. Tragic and sad: ong namo guru dev nomo, indeed…

In any event, I’ll continue with my very modest practice. But it’s like anything else in life: take what works and leave the rest.

Or like that Yogi Frank Sinatra once said, “Ya gotta dig living, baby, because dying is a pain in the ass.”