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.

Kardashians + nude yoga = one of the rare moments when Sarcastic Yogi is speechless

Could someone please kindly remind me why these bitches are famous?

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.

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...

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.