Essay

Yogaland Blues

By: judith cohen, 10/15/2020

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Yogaland Blues
Judith Beth Cohen Markanjudy@msn.com
325 wc
Trying to meditate in the frozen pre-dawn darkness, I wondered why I’d come here. Days into this intensive yoga retreat, I was miserable. The ocean-side setting might be lovely but it felt like a military boot camp. No caffeine, computers or phones were allowed. My tent was so tiny I had to dress on my knees. For fifteen grueling hours, surrounded by svelte women half my age, I stretched, meditated and moved from one strenuous session to the next. Our skinny teacher with his long shaggy mien and intense gaze, resembled a starving Hindu sage. “General Guru,” I named him. At day’s end, I hobbled over and interrupted his beatific pose.
“I don’t think I can keep up," I whispered. As if I’d suddenly materialized, he scanned me from head to toe “Are you in pain?” he asked.
“No,” I admitted.
“Just do what you can." He beamed at me, closed his eyes and I became invisible again.
I ‘d arrived eager to learn more about yoga’s eight limbed path. General Guru said we must rid ourselves of the five Kleshas, veils which distract us from our “true” nature. Contrary to his teaching, I liked my critical mind; I enjoyed being skeptical and questioning assumptions--in other words using my brain as well as my body.
“Confront your truth, accept it and let it go,” he instructed. Finally the Satya or “truth” telling session pushed me over the edge.
When my turn came, I faced him. “My truth is this retreat is making me hate the yoga I love.” Breath suspended, my companions waited for General Guru’s response. He nodded wisely, his face expressionless.
“You should do whatever feels right for you,” he said.
“ I quit,” I announced.
Now free, I could wander the coastline alone. My classmates, camped on the beach for their twenty-four hour solo retreat (no food or drink allowed) waved at me longingly as I passed them.

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