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.

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.

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.