Tuesday, 11 December 2012

Eventually y'all have to rip off the band-aid

I know it's been a while. The last couple of months have been mad. And the madness ended with me getting into a car accident. So much to contemplate and distill.

At the time of writing, I was slightly pissed. Actually, I was quite pissed. After I just accidentally deleted a blog that I had worked on for quite some time, I got a lovingly lovely email from none other than some womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John, warmly inviting me to study with him again. I so wish I could walk into a Mikasa store and just smash and break every overpriced plate and bowl with no consequence. In reality there wasn't much I could do other than screaming uncontrollably. But of course I didn't. I have manner, ya know. Instead I went to the elevator and let one rip. It most certainly didn't help the situation, but the thought of someone unknowingly walking into the pungent product of my angry tush somehow eased the pain a little... how insensitive of me.

Right when I was blowing off some stinky steam, I had an epiphany: I want to start a revolution. I think we should reclaim the word "sensitive" and not misuse it the way Lindsay Lohan with vodka.

Sensitive reclamation!


Rewind...

One of my closest friends Pinky Bombmaker met this dude whom I lovingly name Anal Douche. If you've been reading my blog, you'll have a pretty good idea how much stress I was under in October because of my mother's surgery. You can read all about it here. So right before my epic journey back to my parents' to care for my mother, Princess Madgelover and I went for dinner. Pinky Bombmaker joined us later and he brought Anal Douche with him. Totally understandable. Pink Bombmaker wanted his two favourite bitches to meet his potential husband, kinda like the final interview. 

Here's the situation: on the cusp of my epic journey, I spent a whole afternoon at a landfill because of my real job and I barely made it home for the time when Princess Madgelover came to pick me up. I did manage to change clothes and cover my mad hair with a bandana. After the intro, the first thing Anal Douche said to me was "I didn't know you were a maid", referring to my bandana and my fashionably homely look. The hello kitty jokes came immediately after. You see, obviously I can take a joke. It's only fair to take one when you dish one. But it's a RIGHT that you earn when you engage in any kind of interaction with Sarcastic Yogi. I ain't picky, but I do have boundaries. It suffices to say hello kitty jokes are off-limit the first time you meet Sarcastic Yogi, unless you are Joan Rivers or Betty White.

So the night went on with more Anal Douche's neverending stories and opinions on just about anything, and it ended with his recommendation of my Halloween costume as a "slutty hello kitty maid", and that he loved "West Side Story"... in short, Anal Douche is the type of person I loathe: a self-absorbed narcissist.

As you can imagine, I lost almost a quart of blood from biting my tongue so hard. That was the only sensible thing to do.

Fast forward...

Sunday, 4 November 2012

Moolah bandha and yoga zombies

At the time of writing, I thought I'd offer a little bit of humour to distract people from the chaos of Sandy or the US election. My heart goes out to those affected by the crazy storm. Please look after yourselves and others. And to those who don't know which party to vote for, think about remarks such as "47%" and "legitimate rape". Anyway... I channeled Joan Rivers and imagined what she'd say if there ever were an Academy Award of Yoga Drama and she gave a speech on the red carpet. Oh the auspiciousness...

My last blog was the most groundbreaking to date and seemingly hit a sensitive spot on how sexy yoga was these days. Lets do a quick recap:
  • Joan Rivers is the wisest and kindest person on this planet.
  • I do not have anger management issues, but I do have a very low tolerance of some womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John.
  • I also have a very low tolerance of those so-called yogic assholes who talk like they are the second coming of Jesus while shooting rainbow-coloured gerbils out of their asses.
  • We discovered the new energy lock called Moolah Bandha. It's madly powerful, not even Mr. Iyengar can fully control it. 

Rewind...

I want to try something different, something that I never do. I'll share a disturbing story with y'all. I guess you can say this story is partially the inspiration of this blog. A couple of weeks ago while at work... yes, many thanks to my actual paying job that enables me to speak the truth... anyway, a co-worker named One-eye Gord followed me to the washroom while yammering and nattering about his yeast infection or something. Once inside the washroom, One-eye Gord proceeded to the cubicle on the right as he seemingly preferred, and began the epic movement of his innards without stopping his monolog that he thought I was listening to. Yes, he was talking to me the entire time while dislodging his logs into the ceramic bowl. You see, I'm just old-fashioned that way. I don't talk to anyone who is taking a piss or shit in a public washroom, or less than 10-ft away even behind a bush of juniper. Seriously, engaging me in conversations while I'm *releasing* in a public washroom suggests that 1) you might be into anonymous sex in public places, and 2) you are a socially inept idiot. I consider the 42 seconds of urination or 17 minutes of defecation my very own intimate moment, when bonding with anyone or of any kind is neither allowed nor appropriate. This includes texting your friends while you are doing number 2, unless you are sending them photos with a caption that says "Look What I Just Made".

While I was trying to escape the washroom, something extremely nauseating dawned on me: some people are like zombies. They don't ever seem to go away, or let you be, and always try to be part of a pack by infecting others, or be infected by others. They fail to understand that sometimes people just want to do their own thing without interference from others. Really! I don't need to be part of a pack to do something that's personal and sacred to me, or perhaps I only want to share it with only a few people... like really!


Wednesday, 17 October 2012

I hate everyone... starting with anger management fascists

"Psychologists tell us that depression is just anger turned inward, but I say, why waste your time? It is what it is and quite frankly I'd rather be angry than depressed. Why? Because antidepressants like Prozac, Wellbutrin and Zoloft can cause bloating... and I hate bloating!!!" - Joan Rivers

Gotta hand it to Joan. She tells like it is, no fluff, no shri, no sugarcoated shit sandwiches. I wonder what she'd say to some womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John.

Recently two well known yoga teachers, Spicy Hello Kitty and The Yogi Muse, wrote about anger but from two different perspectives. I, Sarcastic Yogi, figured I'd throw in my two cents, not that what I say carries as much weight, nor would I put myself in the same league as they are... shit, I'm like a dung beetle compared to Spicy Hello Kitty and The Yogi Muse. I love shit. I embrace shit. I am the embodiment of shit. I can't live without shit. But that's a different conversation.

A while back I taught a little show-n-tell about yoga at work and got gently reamed out by a local teacher because of it. You can read about it here. Not to open an old wound... trust me, I'm going somewhere with this blog. I don't shoot blanks.

So yes, I was angry when I wrote it. If yoga were meant to get rid of anger, it certainly wasn't working. Hmm... I must be doing it wrong! I was supposed to be all zen and compassionate and lovey dovey like a hippie high on love and marijuana... Oh my loin! Bless me, guru, for I have sinned! I failed to repress my anger! Hot damn, I am not yogic because I was angry! I failed yoga! Baaaaah!

Rewind...

What's yoga? What is yoga in the Western world? What is yoga in the Western world now? Yoga in the Western world 20, 30 years ago was a very different thing. Back then "inspired" was not a designation that required a licensing agreement. There was no "Yoga Journal conference" or "Wanderlust". There was no Manduka super black mat or Evolution jar of pubes. "Yoga for golfer" or "something something yoga dot com inc." was practically unheard of.

Today yoga is sexy. It's where people go to hook up or recruit coven angels. It's about a room full of sweaty tight toned bodies in skimpy tight Lululemon shorts. It's being groomed to be a competition event in the next Olympics. It's about branding, franchising and selling your pubes in jars. It's about getting a title like "Swami Springer Sisters", or "Guru Lickmyonion", or "Crusty Nono Myass". It's about showing off some crazy postures that put the Cirque du Soleil dancers to shame. It's a luxurious vacation in some all-inclusive resort in Barbados with hot mermaids. It's some white dude demanding to be addressed by the Hindu name he picked. Shit, if all fail, create your own cult religion, or copyright your ass movement sequence and call it "the roots" "the vomit".

Hmm... that doesn't sound very sexy at all.


Fast forward...

Some of us have been labeled as non-yogic because we have the ability to feel anger.

Sunday, 14 October 2012

Random and unsexy thoughts

Here it goes... I'm turning 21 today. Yeah, I know, it's hard to believe Sarcastic Yogi is already in his 20s and is such an international sensation shit. On this auspicious shri grace-filled day, I invite you to ask yourself these questions:
  1. Would you date "you", as in, if you were a third-person in the conversation, would you date "you" in an non-narcissistic, non-masturbatory way?
  2. If yes, why?
  3. If no, why?
  4. Who would attend your funeral? Who wouldn't? Why?
  5. Those who would attend your funeral, what'd be in their eulogy?
Time for some more cake.



Friday, 12 October 2012

A Bollywood classic

Well, I deleted a blog I worked on for a few days by accident... baaaah! I needed to look at something inspiring to ease the pain. So here you go, the classic Indian nipple song. Spicy!


Sunday, 30 September 2012

Shit my family says (Part 2): what is your default?

From time to time I get questions from "anonymous". The questions typically range from "Are you Satan?" to "Can I be your coven angel (or fairy)?". Sometimes I get "How is it possible an auspicious divine being like Sarcastic Yogi to be single for 10 years?". But the most common one is "How did you become Sarcastic Yogi?", or something along that line.

Rewind...

So I aired out a little dirty laundry in one of my recent blogs, which half of it was practically written by my family, specifically shit my family says. You can read it here. I also disclosed my own dirty secret that I listened to audio books. Yes, I know, that's not really reading. Bite me. But I digress... lets talk about another book I "read" in one of my trips to see my folks... hmm... reading and driving, that sounds kind of dangerous... but I digress, I "read" a book by comedian Lisa Lampanelli called "Chocolate, please". 

Lisa Lampanelli (who shall be referred to as LL from hereon, but not to be confused with the unfortunate Lindsay Lohan who has the same initials) is a comedian who desperately tries to be as crude and offensive as Sarcastic Yogi. She calls herself "Comedy's Loveable Queen of Mean" and her website is insult comic dot com. That should give you an idea about her style and why I see her as a copycat. "Chocolate, please" is her autobiography and the inspiration to the following:

- Only dead people should have books written about them. 
- "Autobiography" is a stupid word. It suggests you will automatically have a book written about you even when you are some womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John. 
- What's more stupid is AUTO suggests that you write your own book about your own life even when you are some womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John.
- Why would anyone pay to read a book about some womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John?
- Who the hell is this womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John?
- Is this womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John dead or alive or real... does he have his own angelic coven followers? 
- What has John done to deserve a biography or at least an autobiography?
- Who in the right mind would buy and read this shit? 

But I digress... dang, I digress a lot in this blog... without further ado... *phew*... LL helped me realize we all have our own default mechanisms that are always on. They are not conscious choices and primarily do two things: 1) your instant first reaction to or opinion about anything, and 2) your first line of defense. Consider them your primal survival instincts, after you remove all your learning of rational thinking, analytical thinking, proper behaviours, social norms, significance of patience, etc. Over time they develop into other things like your preference and style. Of course they can change depending on life experience and other shit. You may learn to like something after your initial distaste for it according to your default. 'Nuff said.

You know that game which someone says a word and you have to say the first thing comes to mind? That'd be a pretty good indicator of your default at that moment.

Rewind some more...


A scorpion asked a frog to carry him across a river. The frog was afraid he might get stung by the the scorpion. The scorpion argued that if he stung the frog, they would both drown. The frog agreed. Midway across the river the scorpion stung the frog. When asked why, the scorpion said, "I can't help it, it is in my nature."

Fast forward...


Time to air out more dirty laundry. You know you want it.

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

How to be gentle, sensitive and truthful at the same time


Yesterday my friend Jumbo Jugs Jojo needed help on how to provide feedback without hurting the person's feelings. I'll share with you a few things that you can say when you are in a similar situation.

Jumbo Jugs Jojo asked: "I love my assistant. She is smart, driven and proactive. But how do I tell her I'm keeping my office door closed this afternoon because she is wearing too much cheap perfume and I can't bear to smell it?"

Sounds familiar?

Here were my suggestions:
- You are wearing too much cheap perfume and I can't bear to smell it.
- Your cheap perfume does not mask your ugly.
- You don't need perfume. You need a bag over your head.
- What perfume are you wearing? Maxi Pad?
- Did you puke on yourself? You smell like you did.
- Whoever bought you that perfume must really hate you.

Simple yet sensitive. I know, the truth hurts and might make you unpopular.

PS: Congratulations, Jumbo Jugs Jojo, you made my blog!

Friday, 14 September 2012

Shit my family says

I had to unleash the sarcastic beast in my last blog because of some yoga guru fake wiccan nymphomaniac doughy Grand Magus pothead had begun teaching some modified Bikram DaRoots sequence after the shitstorm he started. John is free to do what he chooses to and it's not my job to stop him. He might be an asshole, but he still has bills to pay. It costs money to keep his doughy figures, ya know. However, it is also important that people are informed and reminded of all the shit he did, before they make their decisions. Unconditional forgiveness is stupid and dangerous, and there are things should never be forgotten.

This blog is a bit more personal. No need to get your knickers in a bunch.

Going home to visit my folks has never been easy, and it gets progressively more difficult each time for different reasons. This time (almost three weeks ago really) was exceptionally hard because unlike the many previous times when I could go incognito, not only all my in-town relatives knew I was coming home, but I also had to babysit entertain some visiting relatives from London UK whom I had not seen since 600 BC.

Good time... yeah right. My only assignment was to make my parents proud even though they constantly and relentlessly embarrass me in public or at home. If that's their dharma... well, that's just a very sick joke on me.

Lets start with airing out some dirty laundry.

In case you haven't noticed already, contrary to what Lady Gaga claims, I wasn't exactly born this way. It took many years of melodrama, ass-whooping, being parented by bad parenting skills acquired from even worse parents, yoga workshops, therapy sessions, red hot chili resentment, WTF's, OMG's and such to give birth to Sarcastic Yogi. It is neither good nor bad, it just is. I know this applies to everyone on this planet, except he/she would have a different name and not as epic as Sarcastic Yogi. We all have family stuff. Like it or not, simplicity is almost never part of the recipe of family drama, except in a case like "my father is simply an asshole". We are involuntarily assigned titles like "brother" or "mother" or "granny" or "cousin" or "aunt" or "in-law" or "son" or "step-sister"... They are like hashtags on twitter, which the more tags you have, the more people are involved, and you may not like or even know them. To those who don't know what a hashtag is, Google it. And to those who don't know what Google is... well, there is no way in hell you could've made it this far to my blog. No way. Satan said so.

But I digress... it's a 2-3 hour drive to my parents', depending on how much speeding I can get away with on the highway. The drive is usually my chance to catch up on "reading", i.e. audio books. While I was listening to "Shit My Dad Says" by Justin Halpern on my way home, it dawned on me that my family has some crazy shit to say, too, except it's often not as insightful, and it's always more ridiculous than funny. For the out-of-the-loop, "Shit My Dad Says" is a book and a (cancelled) sitcom based on Justin Halpern's tweets, which are a collection of crazy remarks his dad makes. Anyway, without further ado, here's some shit my family says.


At dinner table, Aunt Miranda met the visiting relatives from London for the first time. Before she said hello:
"Arrgh! I hated London. The food was awful."

At dinner table, after finding out my cousin Don (from London) just had a baby girl:
Aunt Miranda: When did you get married?
Cousin Don: 2000.
Aunt Miranda: What!? It took you 12 years to have a baby?

After finding out Cousin Don's baby girl was adopted:
Aunt Miranda: What!? She's not yours!? You can't make your own baby?

Sunday, 9 September 2012

In memoriam: 3A Not-a-cult Yoga Inc. (1997 - 2012)

[WARNING: not suitable to those with no sense of humour or faint of heart, you know, the usual stuff]

Wassup? Wassup? I was away on vacation and came back to the newest transformation of the coven! Yup, the final nail of the coffin of 3A Not-a-cult Yoga Inc was nailed by none other than the GM himself! Please note I make no references to nailing or urethra massaging of any kind.

Anyway, even more great news: the GM is starting his own new yoga gig after completely ditching his die-hard 3A shri-mongers!

A very bold move. Bravo, Clifford! It is indeed time to replace the old lambs with fresh ones. Why be loyal when you can cheat, on your girlfriends and others?

In memory of the death of 3A Not-a-cult Yoga Inc, and of course in celebration of the GM's new gig, I present to you a collage of photos that captured some of the most inspiring moments in its short shri-filled life. There are things that should not be forgotten. Of course, whatever emotions or memories they dig up, yes, they are your own responsibility and projection of your own shit. Please don't point fingers.

A picture is worth a thousand words. Body language can be quite telling.

PS: Suggestions of captions are most definitely welcome!

Caption 1) "I am just adorable! Don't you want me?"
Caption 2) "Who could resist such a pretty face?"
Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "I <3 big melons."
Caption 2) "You need to be at least a D-cup to be my coven angel."
Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "This is how you hold the auspicious jugs in your hands."
Caption 2) "Yes, you still need to be at least a D-cup to be my coven angel."
Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "Yeah man, those boobs were this big!"
Caption 2) "Look, I already told you, minimum D-cup!"
Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "Sorry, there is a minimum D-cup requirement to be my coven angel."
Caption 2) "I'll still do you."
Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "Ok, you will feel my hands pushing you down. I need to know how good you are at waking up my one-eyed snake kundalini energy. That's part of the coven angel entry exam."
Caption 2) "You still need to be a D-cup to be my coven angel."
Caption 3) _______

Caption 1) "Her boobs were huge! I had to hold one with both hands."
Caption 2) "Then I just held her head with both hands and pushed her down to meet my root chakra."
Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "I was like WTF, I am the Grand Magus! I am supposed to get sensual massages from the angels! What is their problem?"
Caption 2) "I just don't understand what the big deal is. Ok, I screwed my students and staff. So what? I'll change the code of ethics. Whatever. Sheesh!"
 Caption 3) _______

Caption 1) "Holy shit! This is like the XXX version of Disneyland!"
Caption 2) "I didn't grab your boob. I was just checking your shoulder loop."
 Caption 3) _______

 
 Caption 1) "This is how you perform urethra massage when she's upside down."
Caption 2) "Put your fingers here. She'll thank you later for curing her migraine."
Caption 3) _______
 
 Caption 1) "Ok, you are going to feel my kundalini energy poking between your shoulder blades while I'm holding your pelvis. That's normal, I am the Grand Magus."
Caption 2) "She's probably just a A-cup... but I'll still do her."
 Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "I don't care that you look like a horse. I'm horny. I'll do your whole family."
Caption 2) "Come on! Kiss me! Nobody can resist the sexiness of the Grand Magus!"
 Caption 3) _______

 
 Caption 1) "Those anal beads feel so good!"
Caption 2) "Explosive orgasmic bliss. So shri."
 Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "I can still taste her in my mouth..."
Caption 2) "hmmm... yummy sexy coven angels..."
 Caption 3) _______

 
 Caption 1) "Oh puleeese, girlfriend! I have the perfect yogi body! I do an asana practice once a month. I am the guru! I am the shit!"
Caption 2) "No worries at all. I'll just change the code of ethics as I see fit."
 Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "Dear Shiva, please save me from this mess, please keep the shri-mongers blind and stupid, please shut up those damn Expats... oh dear Shakti, call me when you are single."
Caption 2) "If I pray hard enough, may be they will forget all the shit I've done."
 Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "Can you see my auspicious jar of pubes?"
Caption 2) "Yes, I worship anything that will bring me cash and sexy young angels. I'll even get on my knees and do whatever it takes."
 Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "OMG! The mermaids want me!"
Caption 2) "So horny right now..."
 Caption 3) _______

 
 Caption 1) "Yeah, half a million worth of flowers and shit!"
Caption 2) "I am so stoned... who's Kelly Haas?"
 Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "Dude, I once smoked a doobie this long!"
Caption 2) "Yes, I do pray that one day I'd be this hung."
 Caption 3) _______

 Caption 1) "So sexy..."
Caption 2) "So shri..."
 Caption 3) _______

 
Caption 1) "Whatever dude, I'm stoned and don't give a shit!"
Caption 2) "Whatever dude, I own the trademark and company! I'll do whatever I want. Screw those Expats!"
 Caption 3) _______

BONUS vintage clip from the GM. So shri. Enjoy.

John Friend Rants from Pierre on Vimeo.

Open to grace and shri, you'll find peace, or a piece of something.

Sunday, 12 August 2012

Teacher Preacher Healer: the Yoga Evangelist Karaoke Singer

My renewed life insurance policy now requires me to have a disclaimer in my blog. So here it goes: the beast of sarcasm is currently on vacation, so this entry is safe for the faint of heart and sensitive people. The beast worked really hard in the last blog promoting the new yoga products from the 3A Not-a-cult Yoga Inc. Some time off is well deserved.

I wrote about the role of teacher a while back and you can find it here. Recently a well respected yoga teacher Spicy Hello Kitty also wrote about the subject, and we had a short but meaningful discussion about it. Then lo and behold, the very topic came up again when The Divine Miss N and I were having coffee a couple of weeks ago. Obviously it's a topic that deserves more attention.

Rewind...

Back in my yoga teaching days, all of my classes were required to "have a heart-oriented theme, which has a meaningful connection to the grand spiritual purposes of the asana practice", and I was supposed to "display a dedication to serving each student and helping him or her unveil his or her innate goodness, worthiness, and Supreme nature, while inspiring..."

That's quite a load, especially from a yoga school that is supposed to be all about freedom. We're told to follow this template with a mandatory heart theme, where each class starts with a 5-7 minutes of nattering that followed by om shanti shanti shanti, sequenced poses with some alignment focus that leads to the climatic apex pose and then cool off to a power nap... granted, this is a great template for an asana class. But it's just a bit ironic when this system is supposedly non-dogmatic. Looking back now, it has a shit load of hair-splitting, not-all-forgiving, often-changing-to-conform-to-GM's flavour of the month... you get the picture. A good tool to plan a class? Yes. The only way to teach a class? No.

Most importantly, because of the self-help, therapy, re-hab type of atmosphere it creates, many are drawn to it. This self-help, re-hab type of nattering is some powerful shit and it sells. It even has its own section at Chapters. Anyone who has been asked to demo a handstand or dropback in a yoga workshop can attest to it. I mean, Oh! My! God! I went to a yoga class and I became superman! I was healed! And I didn't even need the yoga urethra massage therapy!


Fast forward...

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

More shri yoga products from the 3A Yoga Not-a-cult Inc.

[WARNING: not suitable for the faint of heart, anyone sensitive to strong language or has no sense of humour]

Due to the overwhelmingly positive responses to the last grand entry of sexy yoga products from the 3A Not-a-cult Yoga Inc., I, Sarcastic Yogi, am blessed to bring you even more! These amazing products, again, are the fruit of the loins of many hours of sensual urethra massages and praying to the many jars of pubes on the altar. But more importantly, these auspices were previously only available to the coven members until now! In fact, lets just skip the invocation and the 5-to-7 minutes of certifiable heart-theme nattering and get right to them before our inner body explodes!


The Preparation Shri Ointment

Yes! Yes! Yes! Here it is, the most blessed blessing of all blessings: The Preparation Shri Ointment. This ointment, which by the way is 100% vegan and orgasmic organic, will instantly transform any unsightly self-serving ugly hypocrite to shakti-filled shri auspicious beauty! Don't just listen to me, here are some testimonies from some of our very satisfied and gorgeous customers.

Tuesday, 26 June 2012

Mirror, mirror on the wall...


See my eyes
They carry your reflection
Watch my lips
They whisper the words you taught me to
I am your mirror
I have been since time began
When you need power
I am your satisfaction
And when you breathe on me
I go misty - Kristine W.

One thing that draws me to yoga is its roots in the rich Hindu mythology. I love those fasinating stories, especially because we are all in those stories. They are like a mirror which the characters are the reflection of ourselves, and by seeing our own reflection we learn more about ourselves. Of course the stories can be told in different ways and come with all kinds of flavours. Naturally I choose to tell mine with humour, but really I don't fling potty humour around for the sake of being offensive.

Let me quote another insightful yogi: humour runs as deep as fear.

So I totally unleashed the power of my inner sarcastic beast in one of my previous blogs, which "invoked emotions" in many. It's also my most read blog entry to date. The response has been overwhelmingly positive, especially when not everyone gets or can handle humour that is laced with raw and vulgar mockery based on truth. It obviously touched a sore spot in those who cringed or protested after reading it. That, in essence, is the function of sarcasm. It's supposed to be sharp, cutting and bring the ugly out in the open, on the mirror for all to see. The reflection was ugly and scary, and not at all what the minions wanted to see. Another round of mudslinging ensued to protect the illusion of unicorn and pink fuzzy bunnies.


Obviously there's been a ton of chatters and nattering about self-reflection since the gross yoga drama exploded in February. It's not as simple as it sounds. For many, they simply avoid looking in the mirror because they know they might not like what they see. Life is seemingly prettier when there's only rainbow and unicorns to look at. Speak no evil, hear no evil, see no evil. Ostriches are very good at that. It's easier to turn a blind eye and pretend the ugly will miraculously and quietly disappear. Bathe in the river of De-Nial and it's all good again.

Monday, 4 June 2012

Yoga is as yoga does

It seems like the world has really gone mad recently... naked man's face got eaten on the street, man killed roomate and ate his heart, some wannabe porn star killed a guy, cut him up, ate some of it, filmed the whole thing and mailed parts of the body to government officials... I simply can't wait to see what else 2012 will bring.

Since this is my first blog in quite some time, and given the recent craziness in the world, I'll keep this one light and short.

Here's a question that I often get: what is yoga?

That is a very loaded question with a somewhat simple answer: it depends. Really.

It is nothing like Scientology. There is no way Tom Cruise and John Travolta would agree to be in a room full of bare chested men wearing tight yoga shorts. Goodness gracious me, no. Unfortunately, the delicious drama of the 3A Yoga school has efficaciously put an equal sign between cult and yoga in many people's mind. Worse yet, some of the 3A yoga devotees have been acting like they are indeed in a cult. Respectfully, those people should consider shutting their pie holes because all they can say is "love light shri beauty divine grace". Alternatively, with love and kindness, I will muzzle each of them with a ball gag. But I digress...

So what is yoga?

Sunday, 27 May 2012

What's with the hiatus?

So I have not posted any new blog for two weeks now.

I have not stopped writing... in fact I have about five that are close to be finished. They all have very different flavours... if you are reading this, you should know how serious and raunchy I can be. They are that different.

I stopped because I'm contemplating my next steps, figuratively and literally, my blog, on my yoga mat, my life, my hairstyle, you name it.

2012... the end of the old, the beginning of the new.

Freedom!

Stay tuned. More to come soon.

Friday, 11 May 2012

New and exclusive products from the 3A Yoga Inc.

WARNING: NOT FOR ANYONE SENSITIVE TO POTTY HUMOUR OR TO THE UGLY TRUTH

I am so so so excited to tell you that the 3A Yoga Inc. are bringing out some amazing and groundbreaking yoga products! These exclusive shri-filled products are only available from me, Sarcastic Yogi. You know they will sell out quickly, yes, complete total dharmic sellout. So have your Diners Club Card or Discovery Card handy and prepare to shop at my shri-tail boutique!


The Manduka Evolution Jar of Pubes
I kinda spilled the beans on facebook on this one already. After years of research and erotic massages, it's finally here, The Manduka Evolution Jar of Pubes. This truly is a must-have for all coven leaders and angels. Its unique formula is specifically designed to maximize energy and blood flow in the groin area. The pubes is completely vegan friendly and 99% organic.


Sarcastic Yogi Exclusive Blend of Pubes
I am so excited about having my own blend of pubes for your altar! This signature blend of pubes is the product of shri and intrinsic sweetness of legs opening to grace. It's perfect as a refill to the Manduka Evolution Jar of Pubes. It also comes with a variety of flavour and is a great compliment to tea, coffee, soup and any hummus recipe. No altar or motel room should be without it. This is only a limited-time offer... I am not very hairy.

Friday, 4 May 2012

When the teacher is not the teacher

[DISCLAIMER: I make no reference to anyone specific. If you think it's you, don't blame me. It's all in your head.]

I'll begin with this: all of us seek approval or at least acknowledgement from a being of a certain status, whether it's from God, the divine, a father/mother figure, a guru, the peer, whatever. Even the uber hardcore monks who choose to completely dissolve everything related to them, they do what they do to get "there": samadhi, bliss, release, heaven, final freedom, which in itself is a form of acknowledgement. Or those triathlon nuts, covered in sweat and vomit, crawl to cross that finish line so that they can say "hey mom, I did it". So yes, we all seek approval from that someone or something of perceived authoritative status.

"The teacher" of course is someone of perceived authority... or is he/she?

The role of teacher is a peculiar one. Obviously, it's something that I have been contemplating with a lot these days, both me as a teacher, and others as my teacher. Your teacher can be your friend. Your teacher can be your student. People often forget that many students spend money on teachers, so really, the teacher can be our employee. Your teacher, sadly, can also be an asshole, and there are a lot of those out there. It's a dynamic role, and most certainly one that claims ownership of whatever power that may or may exist. Let me explain...


Sunday, 29 April 2012

It takes three to tango (Part 2)

Just when I thought the yoga drama was slowly and finally subsiding, more gasoline was put into the blazing solar flames.

More fine displays of sensational journalism appeared in the last couple of weeks. More disturbing details have been put forth for the world to see. Titles like "yoga guru wiccan cult oil massage cat fight sex parties scandal" most certainly attract readers and create conversations that are not necessarily helpful or healthy.  Emotions are high, and mudslinging is even higher. When one's reputation and livelihood are at stake, or in some cases, one's dirty laundry is being aired out in the open, no holds barred.

One yogi said it best: open to gross. What a mess.

The Grand Magus is undoubtedly a very despised man. It saddens me to see him, to this day, still hides behind the PR machine and plays victim. It really is a slap in our face that he has time to do photo ops and chills on the beach in Bardados, but has yet to directly and sincerely address his unethical acts. His irresponsible behaviours have already been documented and discussed hundreds of times, so there's no point to keep beating the dead horse. (Here's the link to some background info for the non-yogis.)

But it takes three to tango. Who are the other two?


The shri-mongers are almost as guilty as the GM.

Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Insecurity is the new stem cell (Part 1)

There are these bitches at work.

I find them boring, shallow, useless, self-absorbed and nasty looking, but otherwise relatively harmless. Naturally I have never been in any social outing, team building activity or discussion about yeast infection with any of them. In fact, other than the absolutely unavoidable heavy exhale, which is meant to sound like "hhhhhhhhhello", or the gentle twitch on my lips that supposedly acts as a smile, I stay as far away as possible. I have never said, "the only thing you can do better than me is growing a moustache", nor have I invited them over to my home for a cup of tea. Things were peaceful, or so I thought.

All the courtesy acts turned out to be futile. They hate me, because apparently they think that I hate them. The truth is, I don't care for them one way or another, so I choose not to engage them in any way unless it's absolutely vital. You see, these women are extremely insecure about their looks, abilities, tastes, you name it. To them, any lack of acknowledgement or approval to their *anything* means instant war. Basically, according to them, I'm an asshole because I don't interact with them. My bad.


Insecurity is the primal basic instinct in all of us that is all about survival. Yes, I fully recognize the reference to a certain movie. This has nothing to do with uncrossing and crossing your legs while going commando, but I digress... The feeling of vulnerability, or something is lacking, I think, is meant to keep us on our toes and act on the source of a potential threat. Much like stem cells, insecurity in itself is raw, undefined and has all kinds of possibilities. It can take on many different forms and that's where things get interesting.

Sunday, 8 April 2012

Anusara and the Order of the Phoenix


When I started writing this blog, I had just washed off the drywall putty dust off my entire body, after helping The Divine Miss N on the renovation of her new yoga studio.

To my surprise, Bhagvati was there. She left Calgary a couple of years ago but recently came back for a visit, and has likely already left by now. I was so glad that I got to see her, albeit only for a couple of hours. Her sweet demeanour is very much missed in Calgary. Anyway...

Some of you may know that The Divine Miss N had owned another prominent yoga studio before, not counting *the* old house. Her old studio will always hold a special place in my yogic journey. I literally lost many of my yogic "virginities" there: my first of many asanas, my first yoga class that I actually loved, my first yoga workshop, meeting my first yoga buddy, my first yoga immersion of any kind, my first acupuncture treatment, my first pranayama workshop, my first teacher training, my very first class as a teacher... yes, I am fully aware of the irony of using "virginity" in the plural form, but that's a different conversation.

When the studio closed in 2009, as you can imagine, I was very devastated.

Friday, 30 March 2012

NEWSFLASH: you are going to die




Rewind...

It all started with the trip to Miami for the Advanced Intensive (for yoga, of course) last year. On my way to Miami, I stopped in Toronto for a night to attend Uncle Bob's 80th birthday bash. Uncle Bob was Pinky Bombmaker's friend's uncle. He was a frail tiny man with a flaming attitude larger than life. He used to come to Calgary during Stampede and we would always go for brunch at the same restaurant. His health deteriorated in the last few years to a point that he was on oxygen full-time and could no longer fly on a plane. So we turned to technology and he would "join" us for brunch via Skype. We always made fun of his non-existent appetite. His typical breakfast included a glass of white wine and two bites of scrambled eggs. It was an ongoing joke with me asking if he ate his breakfast, and he would raise his wine glass and smirk. And at his birthday bash, we crowned him with a tiara that we brought from Calgary. Those were precious moments.

Uncle Bob passed away a few weeks after his birthday bash.

Fast forward a little...

Mom phoned, but not on a Wednesday. Our weekly phone call is always on Wednesday, so I knew something was up.

"Your uncle died."

Wednesday, 28 March 2012

It takes three to tango (Part 1)

Rewind...

I had a lovely chat with The Divine Miss N before I left for San Marcos, Texas. It's always a real treat to me when I get a chance to speak with someone who understands my intentions but not necessarily agrees with my actions. I was also reminded that the last few entries on my blog sound angry and contain a lot of harsh unfriendly language.

Fast forward...

It's been quite a week. I'm feeling exhausted but content. The Spring intensive in San Marcos with one of my highly regarded teachers, was indeed intense, especially in the first couple of days because I did the asana practice being basically blind (I didn't have my contact lenses). The workshop was inconspicuously emotionally charged and it showed towards the end.

The concept of discernment has been on my mind since the chat with The Divine Miss N. This very concept appeared repeatedly throughout the five days in both the asana portion and the Sanskrit study. In fact, a number of people directly named it in the last two days, when we discussed the different interpretations of alignment of a pose and yogic philosophy.

Since I couldn't see in the first two days, I had to listen and feel a lot more than usual, and I was enabled to reflect.

You will hear what you need to hear if you allow yourself to hear it. When you hear it, pay attention.

Thursday, 15 March 2012

To teach or not to teach: the dilemma of a yoga teacher

*possibly my most serious blog to date*

I confess, I'm a big fan of yoga. (Duh!) Not only the physical aspect but also the philosophical spiritual mythology stuff.

I took my very first immersion without even knowing what it was. It was taught by two of my favourite teachers, Captain Kirk and Wonderjordan. They came here to teach a weekend workshop and an immersion, even though that almost didn't happen because of an asshole in our local yoga community. That's also the reason why I chose to take the immersion, just to show that asshole A) she's an asshole, B) we don't need her for the community to exist and grow. In case you don't know, there are a lot of assholes out there, even in the yoga community.

At that time I had no desire to ever become a yoga teacher. In fact, yoga is my means to get as far away from work as possible. But that immersion gave me the first real taste of all eight limbs of yoga, not just asanas. The group in the immersion was small, but it also felt very intimate and it allowed us more space to play and learn.

The rest is history.

But all good things come to an end. The Divine Miss N's studio closed in 2009, the same year when I was publicly humiliated by The Man. All of a sudden "teaching yoga" wasn't that simple any more. By then I've already met quite a number of teachers of various caliber, and experienced episodes of yoga drama. Looking back now, I realize being a yoga teacher does not negate one's disposition of being an abusive, self-serving, pretentious and arrogant asshole. You can have a mind-blowing asana practice and be super well-versed in all the history and philosophy stuff, but still are an abusive, self-serving, pretentious and arrogant asshole, teacher or otherwise.


Taking yoga classes doesn't make you superior to those who don't. And practicing yoga definitely is a lot more than working out. Really, look at the eight limbs of yoga derived from the Patanjali Sutras, asana isn't even the first.

If you are still reading, you are probably wondering, what the fuck is with the rant?

Saturday, 10 March 2012

Exclusive interview with Kirk Cameron

[Dear readers, with great honour and explosive pleasure, here it is, from me, Sarcastic Yogi (SG), to you... my first exclusive interview with Kirk Cameron (KC), the alleged reincarnation of the 14th apostle.]

...almost an hour late, finally Kirk Cameron arrived for the interview....

KC: Hi doll! So sorry for being fashionably late. [KC did the vogue dance thing and then struck a pose.]

SG: That's ok and expected. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule and on such short notice.

KC: Oh darling, that's fine. I need the press! My schedule is almost always empty except 15 minutes here and there to preach my antiquated judgemental moral value crap. The hardest part was to book my stylist for my hair and makeup. Dear Lord... his schedule is much fuller than mine!... Sarcastic Yogi darling, do you like my hair?

SG: hmm... yeah sure... it looks fine. So you are here to promote your new movie "Banana: The Atheist's Nightmare"... tell us more about it.



KC: Of course, darling. You see how the banana has this thing you can peel back and stuff. So perfectly designed... you just pull it back and expose... pull it back and expose... hmm... yeah baby... eerr... take that, you atheist hater!

SG: I'm not sure if I follow.

Wednesday, 7 March 2012

Rush Limbaugh and Kirk Cameron, please shut the fuck up.

Many hate-preaching-ignorant-simpleton-assholes like to hide behind Freedom of Speech and the name of God to promote nothing more than prejudice, hatred and segregation of the society. They freely spew out the "truth" as per their own opinions, and demonize anyone who doesn't abide to their *ahem* moral values.


Like I said before, having an opinion does not make you right or an expert.

Seriously, in 2012, these two hypocrite buffoons sexy studs are still trying to push their antiquated judgmental views. When people call on their shit, they claim to be victimized, misunderstood, secretly addicted to pills and midget porn. Whatever.

Rush Limbaugh called a female university student a SLUT because she campaigned to have insurance coverage for birth control. He went on saying "if we are going to pay for your contraceptives, thus pay for you to have sex, we want something for it, and I'll tell you what it is: We want you to post videos online so we can all watch."

Kirk Cameron called homosexuality "unnatural" and same-sex marriage "detrimental and ultimately destructive to so many of the foundations of civilization." He went on saying "some people believe my responses were not loving toward those in the gay community. That is not true. I can assuredly say that it's my life's mission to love all people."

Wow. Clearly, these two idiots are made for each other. They should get together, engage in kinky unprotected anal intercourse and call each other "unnatural slut!" when they climax.

I wonder if Rush and Kirk prefer butt plug or anal beads. Do they wear crotchless panties when they do interviews? May be they worship Satan? Naa... even Satan has standards.

Instead of commenting further, I decided to have a poll.

Who is the bigger UNNATURAL SLUT?


Wednesday, 29 February 2012

White spandex: the nightmare of all yoga teachers

I am NOT judging at all... and even though it is not really what this clip is about... white spandex MUST BE BANNED everywhere in the world except in porn studios and your own home.

Seriously.

Real *food* for thought

When a child is hungry...

Food for thought

Some very helpful tips for all of my beloved yoga friends.


Laughing... yoga!?

It's not often that Sarcastic Yogi is speechless. This is one of those rare, precious times...

"I love having sex with people."

Courtesy of my yoga friend Ray Ray. Don't get your knickers in a bunch. It's called HUMOUR.
Two Yogis Discuss The John Friend Scandal
by: thebabarazzi

Monday, 27 February 2012

Unfuck! Unfuck!

Courtesy of my "secret" Anusara yogi friend somewhere down there in the south... please listen, pause, reflect and laugh. Don't forget to reflect and laugh.

Friday, 24 February 2012

Multiple personality disorder in a relationship (Part 2 of Part 2): Universal Principles of Asshole

Rewind...

I got a note from "anonymous": 
Your blog would of been much nicer if you didn't use those harsh language. 

I wrote back:
Thank you, "anonymous", but I don't think using the term NOT BEING NICE has the same effect as ASSHOLE. Also, could you kindly tell me what a "nice" blog is?

"anonymous" emailed me back within minutes:
Clearly you can not talk about others that way, you don't know all the details and truth, your blog is inappropriate and offensive and hurting people, you have no rights to talk trash

With gratitude and explosive shri, I wrote back:

First of all, it's "would HAVE been". Second, in that particular context, you should HAVE used "cannot" as one word. Third, "those" implies plural, which means you should HAVE said "if you didn't use those harsh languageS". Moreover, this is my blog and I am just telling stories from my own point of view. Clearly, you have no concept of sarcasm or correct grammar. I understand your pain since the truth does hurt sometimes. Have a wonderful and educational day.


"anonymous" has not written back as of today.

Fast forward...

Thursday, 23 February 2012

the real beauty comes from within

While working on my next blog, I found this amazing clip about finding your own true beauty... 300% shri... total shri... aahh...

Friday, 17 February 2012

Multiple personality disorder in a relationship (Part 1 of Part 2): the one you love is an asshole

Multiple personality disorder in a relationship (Part 1 of Part 2): the one you love is an asshole

Lets get this out of the way, I am no guru *cough* of relationship. Actually, I’m not a guru *cough* of anything.

Unlike Dr. Phil, I don’t pretend to be an expert in things that I don’t know much about and I still have hair on my head. You just wait, he’ll soon be selling hair growth products and lecturing on how to perform lobotomy with only a tampon.

Having an opinion doesn’t make you an expert, I wish more people realized that.

Rewind...

Just like everyone else, I have baggage, demons and skeletons in the closet, mostly from my childhood. As a child, by instinct you look to your parents for guidance and love. We were all naive and uncontaminated once. Obviously things don’t always turn out the way you want or expect.

Fast forward...



What if the one you love is an asshole?

Sunday, 12 February 2012

Multiple personality disorder in a relationship (Part 1)

Now that we know any relationship is technically a big messy clutter of fuck, lets go deeper into the rabbit hole.

As per me, sarcastic yogi, the most smartest beautifulest thing ever created in all heavens and universe under the 1st Ascension of the High Court of Stargate Voyager... *gasp*... sorry, I got a little carried away...

Everyone, in any relationship, has some kind of social and caste duty in accord with the cosmic order, in that big messy clutter of fuck.

Translation: it ain't a free ride, my love. Work it. Pay up. Prepare to eat crow.



Saraswati called: Dharma of Relationship... or else!


 My phone rang after I dropped off The Divine Miss N at her house yesterday. 

*dood* *dood*

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'd like to speak to Sarcastic Yogi."

"You're speaking to him."

"This is Saraswati. You are an asshole."

"That's nice, dear. I thought you were a goddess. Do you kiss your worshipers with that dirty mouth?"

"Listen, asshole! I don't kiss my worshipers, ok? I know better not to have physical contact with my minions, ok? And how dare you call me boring! I am the Goddess of Knowledge! I will fucking cut you!"

Then I realized what it was all about. Saraswati was mad at me for calling her boring and didn't include her in my previous blog, which I talked about Kali, the raw energry, and Lakshmi, the refinement, amid the latest yoga drama.

Uh oh! The last thing I want is pissing off a goddess, or a god, or anyone with more than two arms, or anyone who has a peacock as a pet... a peacock! You know anyone who has a peacock prancing around in his/her home? And Saraswati has that guitar thing that she can whack my head with!

"Fine, I'll burn some incense and say Hail Mary 3 times."

"Oh no, asshole. You need to do the right thing. You need to go THERE and talk about Dharma of Relationship. I don't give a shit how uncomfortable this topic is for you. DO IT OR IMA FUCKING CUT YOU! ASSHOLE!"

*click*

This is major. It's one thing that I piss someone off. Damn, I do that on an hourly basis and I am loving every second of it. But it is quite another when a goddess dumps this shit on you.

And she called me an asshole.

Of course I called upon the lessons I learned in highschool on writing essays. You start with a definition of sort, citing the source... you know, the easy way out. So here it goes...

According to the internet, the Webster's dictionary and Encyclopaedia Britannica,

Dharma = social and caste duty in accord with the cosmic order
Relationship = a big messy clutter of fuck

"Dharma of Relationship" means "social and caste duty in accord with the cosmic order" of " a big messy clutter of fuck"...

hmm... that sounds about right.

Saturday, 11 February 2012

Kali caught on tape!

Kali disguised as a feisty old lady with a potty mouth on a bus. Don't mess with Kali! Stupid!


Friday, 10 February 2012

Kali says: cross this line and I'll fucking cut your head off

The Divine Miss N has been one of my yoga teachers and an integral part of my yogic journey for a very long time. She and I share, surprisingly, a lot in common, yet we are very different in all the bells and whistles. We are both introverts. We both have to deal with similar demons. We have studied with some of the same teachers, which enables us to help each other out when we try to explore the "more harder, more dangerous" asanas. In fact, she's dropped me on my head a few times in my early days of exploring dropback, but I keep going back for more. She's also one of the very few yogis that I've allowed into my home to practice. My filthy condo is my fucking sacred temple, ok?

And yes, she is much nicer than me. Bite me.

When shit hit the fan last week, The Divine Miss N and I had a long chat, which in part inspired me to start this blog that nobody reads.

Here's the deal, most introverts are thinkers... most, not all, some are just inadvertent idiots... and being an introvert doesn't mean being shy, we just stay in the back, lurk in the dark, keep our mouths shut, observe and conjure up shit in our heads.

So when two introverts, who have similar experiences in life and stuff, have a long conversation, you know it's bound to be some juicy shit.

This is also where it gets interesting. You see, The Divine Miss N is A) my teacher, B) as crude as it sounds, a service provider, C) my fellow yoga buddy, D) my friend.

Blurry boundaries? You betcha. I'll talk more about that in a different blog.

And to reflect on that certain current event, there are striking similarities, though thank Jeebus, none of that "sensual energy moving" ritual here.

No. No. No. Never have, never will. The yuck factor is just too high.

There are lines you simply do not cross. This is one of them... and women with tattoos and piercings are just not my thing. I'm too conservative and traditional that way. I like them pure, stupid and with enormous breasts (if she can see her feet while looking down, they are too small), but I digress...

Fast forward...



The Divine Miss N talked about Kali and Lakshmi in her Thursday class, which was very refreshing and fitting.

How NOT to behave as a yoga teacher



Some of you should know how hard it is for me to not make any smartass remark here. But this is also time for us ,who have been deeply impacted by that certain current event in the yoga community, to laugh and relax a little. We all need that. Om shanti.

Thursday, 9 February 2012

A simple healing restorative yoga sequence

I just got home from The Divine Miss N's Thursday restorative yoga class. Naturally the class was calming, healing and rejuvenating. I was tasked with recording the "cooling" (aka easy) sequence towards the end. Unfortunately my cellphone crapped out and the video looks weird and almost black-and-white. Nonetheless, here it is...




I think I missed a couple of poses in the "active" portion of the class.

You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!

Pinky Bombmaker sent me a text message yesterday, saying that he ran into Bobo Toyotasubaru after many years with no communication.

It was only recently that Bobo Toyotasubaru re-surfaced after his breakup with his ex, Granny Magicpothead. We got in touch with each other again on FB.

The breakup was epic. There was betrayal, infidelity, drugs, lies and fireworks. That is, according to Granny Magicpothead... Both Pinky Bombmaker and I met up with him for dinner and found out the “truth” of their breakup. Granny Magicpothead was “obviously” the victim, so hurt, chose to tell lies because he cared, had a near-death experience because he was mercilessly attacked by Bobo Toyotasubaru... aaw, poor thing!

You see, Granny Magicpothead has this magical power to invoke violence in all of us. On one occasion I wanted to shove an explosive device in his ass. His magic is just that powerful, but I digress...

Bobo Toyotasubaru simply vanished without saying shit to any of us, as if nothing happened other than the breakup. Not a boo even after he re-surfaced.

So what happened between the two of them on that fabled night?

The truth is... the REAL truth (as opposed to the FAKE truth, ha!) probably lies somewhere in between. You know, things out of context, out of sequence, conveniently overlooked, pulled out of his anus, that sort of thing.

Fast forward...

In light of a certain current event in the yoga community, it’s important to talk about satya (truth).

There is this innate bitch in all us, which manifests into this curious beast to find the truth. But here’s the thing:

Same objective but all kinds of intentions, and don’t get me started on how some people go about it (alignment? action? attitude?)