RIP “yoga whore”
[Yet another confession from this misfit mystic in the desire to be transparent to accelerate evolution and my own ego deflation process.]
Once upon a time, i was a yoga whore.
What does that mean?
i posted pretty pictures of me in poses demonstrating my athletic ability to attract those who were drawn to that image.
i made compromises to cater to students egos in classes.
i didn’t elevate them to the level of freedom that was possible because i wanted them to ‘like’ me, because i wanted them to attend ‘my’ classes and sponsor my career.
But the liberation process doesn’t work like that.
To hold space for freedom
means one must be free to call it like they see it,
to challenge the ego of the student,
and it should hurt actually.
The postures are just a beginning stage in the path of awakening,
they move the energy
and align the heart with its potential
but there is so much more
so i won’t play the Americanized commercial yoga game anymore.
i won’t continue to register with Yoga Alliance just because people are willing to pay me for teaching certificates with their insignia.…i can’t associate with a yoga institution whose goal can’t be liberation because their survival depends on your annual fee. And once one is free, what need to pay a fee to be labeled as legitimate? So absurd, so fucking hilarious, really.
Yet this former yoga whore made a yogini deal with the devil that almost cost her soul
& finally it has come to a close.
And yes, you may look at me
and think i haven’t suffered
i am skinny white girl; i fit the mainstream marketing yoga model status,
but you know, the biggest joke of all?
i am not really
what that image represents
…on the inside.
Once upon a time,
there were track marks on my arms and vomit in my hair,
i lay in the gutter, tangled, tormented and in despair.
(too bad i don't have a picture to convey that to insert now)
People look at me and see a girl who probably grew up with privilege and was college educated and given a wonderful array of extra curricular activities, summer camps and support to join the ruling class of this country, a debutant to be whored off to some doctor husband and have 1.5 kids and a 2 car garage.
But the truth is
i had an ulcer at 10
worrying about my mother’s alcoholism .
(photo courtesy of unknown source online-if it's yours please let me know)
i grew up with a feeling daily of impending doom
and when i could no longer pretend that
‘everything was fine’
the innocent hope for a bright future was so obviously a lie
i tried their medications; they were labeled
“anti depressants” but, by god,
i should’ve been depressed!
Thankfully they never took hold
and i self medicated instead wth a variety of ‘unlawful’ choices in substances and self destructive activities.
There was much to deaden and i needed relief, or at least distraction.
i surrounded myself with people who had no care whether i lived or died and i put myself in positions to be hurt repeatedly, both consciously and unconsciously.
why?
i witnessed my mom abused by a man who she could never leave
in prison and degraded
nothing quite so painful as seeing one’s mom
disrespected
and being powerless to help
told if i tried, she would be hurt more
and i needed to be a good little girl
smile
act pretty
Although i can do the splits now as a yogini,
and i have posted a sexy picture of that or two before,
i wasn’t a cheerleader growing up,
there was nothing to cheer.
i was in high school listening to NWA, relating more to the lyrics in “fuck the police” than light-weight love songs by New Kids on the Block.
Although we lived in the suburbs, the police came to our house, to protect my father ironically and enforce the restraining order in place against the woman who brought me into this world.
The following mornings found me shamed on the school bus for being white trash in a nouveau riche school…
i used to beg for us to move to a different neighborhood where we might fit in better
i finally switched schools to the old money side of town, just because at least my plight was so foreign and uncommon to them that my problems weren't something they felt as compelled to put down.
The fact is that i have more in common statistically with most African American males than the white girls i grew up around.
Of course i dropped out of school.
but i am not a victim here
and this is not a ‘poor me’ story in the slightest
i am what i am
it’s a paradox
And that my friends,
is the freedom
of this yogini
that brought integration to all identities
(photo courtesy of unknown source online)
both ‘mine’ and yours
i am both the predator and the prey
the privileged and the misfortunate
been there
done it
the sell out
and the martyr
the wisdom is in the recognition that it’s all the same
all incarnations
into this ever changing form
nothing fixed
nothing frozen
no paralysis in past pain
but a movement toward peace
and expansion
and my promise to you now
is that i will try not to water down my experience anymore
to fit into
the pretty yogini genre
of self help &
inspriational quotes
i will keep it raw
and all i ask from you is that if you hear me quote something ‘spiritual’
remember the source
Please honor with me the victory of the fact
i didn’t off myself
that yoga and other practices to liberate the mind from archaic conditioning
did revolutionize my life
and transform my body and mind
and this story is not done yet
photo taken by Holger Diedrich