In Celebration of Yoga by Lynne Reitman

She was larger than life and was being honored by her many disciples – neighborhood yogis she had trained to be kripalu yoga teachers. One of the most devoted trainees had thought that she should be honored for her years of teaching and several yogis had been organizing the event for months. I was one of her trainees but not a devotee.

I remember filling out the application to enter the teacher training program and there was a question that asked about “teachers that had been special to you”. I couldn’t think of any. I had always been wary of teachers – afraid of their need to be admired as the driving force in the relationship. Somehow my needs were often lost. Of course, I had many teachers that I admired and who admired me for admiring them. But I was applying to become a yoga teacher and wanted the focus to be on me. I was actually on a quest for myself.

Over the hours of training our master yoga teacher and her teaching partner taught our class of 15 – 14 women and one man – and I was moved, touched, and repulsed by the experience. Both teachers, one blonde, the other brunette, both in their 50s with huge manes of curly hair, very stylish yoga clothes, wearing trinkets and making gestures that drew attention to themselves while they were teaching us to look inward through the practice of yoga.
 
So when I heard about the celebration I stayed clear of the preparations knowing that I would feel diminished by the abilities of the others to beautifully decorate a room, cook healthy and nutritious meals, and bring thought and meaning to a special event such as this. For months the discussions went on about the best way to…... so many talented yogis with large egos, celebrating the Yogi with the very largest ego, to honor her teaching of losing ego.

I had decided that my contribution to the celebration would be a cake bought in a local overpriced bakery that made only gluten free products. I thought this would resonate with the feeling tone of the event. We were told to include a sign indicating ingredients in all the food we brought due to all the special food needs of the yogis. No sugar, no nuts, no wheat, no caffeine, no carbohydrates, no fat and, of course, delicious.

On the day of the party I woke up feeling exhausted. I worked in the morning and took a walk in the afternoon then realized I felt too ill to attend this event. I had thought that I wanted to go because, aside from all my disdain, I was grateful for the teachings I received through my yoga training – even learning to be grateful was part of my experience with yoga.

I bought the cake that met some of the “no this, no that” requirements and took it to the place where the festivities were to occur. I figured there would be lots of yogis setting up and decorating and I would just drop off my cake and go home. I was eager to get into bed and watch “Law and Order” which is what I do when I don’t feel well.
I entered the church where many local celebrations occur and I felt sad that I wouldn’t be there that night but knew that I felt too horrible to deal with the crowds, the lights, the energy. It did look beautiful. Only one devotee was there studying the room with great seriousness. She came up to me and took my cake which seemed so crass in this otherwise splendid environment. In a hushed tone. sounding so very earnest and sincere, she told me what each decoration meant. She said that if I felt better later on I should come at 8 pm when the most significant devotions were to be spoken.

I left knowing I wouldn’t be back that evening but feeling bad for myself that I would miss this event with my teacher and friends and that I knew I really didn’t care but I was afraid that it was the first step toward a life of total isolation – which is both my fear and longing. Was I really not feeling well?

I went home and joyfully got into bed. It felt so good. I was so happy I had what felt like forever to just lie in bed. Nobody was home and I could indulge in the lowest form of relaxation – TV.

Usually in the course of any week I see my yoga friends in 2 yoga classes -one being followed by coffee. We also meditate and discuss the dharma one evening a month. I don’t often go to the class our celebrated teacher gives because she talks throughout the class and I can’t find room for myself with all that chatter. But the week after the party I avoided all things yoga not want to hear how wonderful the celebration was nor endure looks of judgment about my not having been there. I felt genuinely sad about not attending and was suspicious of my illness and whether I had really wanted to go – ambivalence being the core of all emotional life for me.

It was easy to miss these events – I continued to feel ill and barely managed to work all week – while being pulled out of bed to handle a few work related emergencies. I saw the pictures of the celebration on facebook, posted under the title, “Love Fest”. There were forty pictures of beautifully adorned yogis wearing soft colors and flowing attire while giving heartfelt thanks to their truly exquisite Yoga Teacher who wore black stockings and a mini skirt – hmmm.

She sent out an e-mail saying how much love she felt and then added how she missed the people who weren’t there and hoped to see them soon. It was a generic e-mail to the 100 or so yogis in the community but somehow I thought she was talking to me. Chastising me through cyber space for not being appreciative enough – how embarrassing. I thought of telling her I was sick but then I decided – no – she was right – I’m not appreciative enough. I’m somewhat appreciative but ambivalent.