The One About the Gurus

One woman's Yoga is another one's Lifestyle Brand

Let’s set a base line first. Yoga. I’m a fan of it In Principle. I am also a fan of The Baking Shows but do not purport to bake if I can avoid it. That said, I have “practiced yoga” before. Mostly the hot kind. But I’ll get to that in a moment.

The baseline I want to set is that calling yoga “a practice” is my favorite thing about it. It’s the sort of phrase or description that does not require either expertise or experience. It’s just, you know, “practice.” I am “practicing” it every time I enter the room. I’m not “working out” or “exercising” or “getting my steps in.” I’m simply trying once more to get a bit better at something that is at various times maddeningly difficult and at others reliably relaxing.

Ok, now that’s settled, I have to wonder why it’s always the Yoga Gurus who’re scamming people. I mean, honestly, the whole concept of stretching and breathing for better health seems not so much like an obvious way to part people from their money. But boy does it happen a lot.

I just watched Breath of Fire which is an astonishing story about Katie Griggs, or rather “Guru Jagat” as she insisted upon by the time she died** thanks to a blood clot after a broken ankle, which feels a bit too much like perfect Karma. I went back and read the Vanity fair article that was the basis for the show to confirm a few things. Ms. Griggs and her whole Ra Ma Institute (which is not, as you might suspect, a riff on a Lady Gaga song) have managed—and are still managing—to collect funds from people under let’s say rather vague promises of enlightenment.

The type of yoga practice she lead is called kundalini and was made up whole cloth by some guy in the late 60s— one Yogi Bhajan, whose resulting businesses are still making money. If you’ve ever purchased the Yogi brand of tea, you’ve paid him. I don’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of the elements of Sikhism, Hinduism, and Buddhism that he used to springboard his New Ageism thing but he was later accused of sexual assault, rape, and financial crimes before he died.

Griggs (Guru Jagat) was a defender of this Yogi and went on to be a real piece of work in the guru space herself, as everything from a Holocaust denier to a COVID conspiracy theorist, she also told the people in her practice that to pay their teacher would lead to more enlightenment. Plus she was a total bitch of a boss. Who doesn’t want more enlightenment I ask you? It’s a well done documentary and it got me thinking about my very own yogi scammer, the dude who invented Bikram (hot and sweaty) Yoga.

I mean, speaking of heavy breathing in the yoga room…

Ok, sorry. But that wrote itself and I don’t get much of those.

Anyways, after you’re blown away by the gall of the lady guru, flip over to Netflix and get a load of Bikram Choudhury, the dude who invented one of the most mindful, helpful, complete, and completely sweaty forms of yoga—90 minutes in a 95 degree, 50% humidy room anyone? Yes please sir, may I have another?

I mean, this was me, way back in 2008. I was trying sell houses in the throes of the scariest reversal of real estate fortunes in decades, had kids to manage at home and school and couldn’t find a single moment for myself. A client, who was a yogi (leader, teacher, whatever) recommended I try it as it was considered “yoga for type A people.” Me? Type A? No way.

But yeah, I had tried “regular” yoga and found it boring. So I got myself to the Bikram Yoga Studio on the east side of Ann Arbor and got myself a new religion. Kinda sorta. I did bring a bunch of folks into it with me. I learned and adhered to the many rules (no talking in the yoga room. water breaks when told to take them. green colors on your minimalistic yoga gear: forbidden. postures to be attempted to the best of your ability but no cheating or lying around in the room like a lazy so-and-so).

So this Bikram dude turns out to be a bad guy, who rapes and pillages his way through young women who’ve already shelled out thousands of dollars for the honor of attending one of his REQUIRED yoga instructor boot camps in California. It sounds like it was kind of Marine-like. You were broken down, denied food and showers, made to do the 26 poses again and again and again in varying degrees of heat and cold, and at the end you did anything the guy told you to do. Strange, but true.

He got caught and he has his own Netflix documentary, has been sued and I believe is hiding somewhere avoiding extradition back to the States so he doesn’t have to pay what he owes according to the courts who found him guilty.

What is it with these “gurus” anyway? A Guru by definition is a leader, a teacher, someone with greater knowledge whose desire is to pass it along to others. Turns out, in Hindu and Buddhism, being called a “guru” means something and you can’t just slap the word onto your name, like adding fake PhD letters or something.

These two people preyed on the weak (yes, I was one of them on a certain level, until I wasn’t but the conundrum was and still is that the actual practice is amazing). They convinced people whose personalities required them to have someone telling them what to do and how to think to give them their undivided devotion—not to mention all of their money. They are, to my mind, the worst of the worst among us. Anyone who looks around and thinks, “Wow, I’m kind of good at this sort of meditation. I should use my skills at it to fleece thousands of dumb asses out of their life savings,” instead of “Wow, I’m kind of good at this sort of meditation. I should use my skills to help people overcome tragedies, obstacles, and other life issues,” deserves nothing but complete scorn and ignominy.

Actual pose expected of you in the hot room. Definitely not a photo of me.

Me? I still go to “hot yoga,” as most/many of the “Bikram studios” quickly rebranded themselves. They also let go of a lot of the goofy rules surrounding the practice and the best of them—like mine here in Greenville: Southern OM or the one I started using back in Ann Arbor, run by one of the most amazing women I’ve ever known who inspired me for YEARS to keep at it. I even did one of those whacky 30-day challenges at her studio!. (That studio is alas, no longer around. But it IS in one of my books!)—keep the basic tenents of the practice (mindful breathing, careful stretching, detox by heat and sweat for 90 minutes for us Type A types) and have completely ditched the nonsense. I recommend everyone try a “26 and 2” hot yoga session at least once in their lives. Just do NOT call it Bikram. And you can wear all the green you want in the studio—where most of them have also ditched the carpet, thank the lord and sonny jesus ‘cause sometimes it was like trying to breathe through a bag of old soccer cleats in there.

Carry on and hang in there, do what you must to get yourself through the next few days. Me? I’m going to hot yoga on Sunday but eating all the tiny little chocolate candies I want to because: self care.

xoxo

Liz

**some claim she’s not dead, just hiding, kinda like the creepy sweaty guy.

Check out my latest book, if you like. Cul-de-Sac is a snarky look at a bunch of neighbors who are all up in each others’ businesses….a lot, let’s say. Too much, perhaps. I’m keyboard pounding to get the follow up book out, it’s called The HOA: Where the rules are strict, and the secrets are deadly. I’m planning to publish it about this time next year, after I release my near future medical thriller. But enough about me. What about you? What do you think about me? (sorry, couldn’t resist TGIF Y’all.)