In the summer of 2000, a good friend of mine suggested I try taking up yoga.  I instantly thought of the shame and embarrassment my father would feel, being the man's-man he is.  However, I needed something different in my life, especially in the way of "spirituality."  I thought I'd gain some flexibility, and it would help with some of the aches and pains I was experiencing. 

I informed my friend that I was ready to go...to yoga at 24 Hour Fitness.  He looked like he was going to get sick.  "24 Hour Fitness is not where you want to go.  I want you to go to Timo's studio Yogapada.  There, you'll learn Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga."  Seven years later, and I still go to the same studio, and I even became a teacher at Yogapada in 2002.  I can't imagine going anywhere else! 

Yoga has become far more than studying postures and working through a physical practice.  Yoga is more observing mental disturbances, and how those mental disturbances manifest in the physical body.   Vice versa - if you do yoga, play close attention to your breath in postures...does it sputter when you are physically stressed?   This can be a direct picture of how you're currently handling the constant mental fluctuations that plague most of us.  Smoothing this out, become aware and conscious is a lifetime practice. 

This "practice" or any practice can become addictive.  We can attach ourselves to the "good feelings" yoga brings our way.  However, Joel Kramer in his incredible book "The Passionate Mind" reminds us to be cautious of "beliefs:"

Practices are often embedded with beliefs, and many practitioners are anxious to latch onto these beliefs to propel them further and further into the practice.  When one practice fails them, when the belief system breaks down, they will ultimately move on in the quest for another practice to suit their needs.  This is where our culture really fails in the area of commitment.  Perhaps, the quest for fulfillment and/or enlightenment, whatever you want to call it, isn't based in belief or a practice at all.  Please read Stephen Cope's "Yoga and the Quest for the True Self" to learn more...for now, I'll leave you with this quote:

We must enter into relationships with people.  They cannot be veiled, fake, phony...whatever.  They must be authentic, and carried out to the fullest potential.  Relationships are the key to finding our true self.

Hello...this is an excerpt from a book I'm working on about my experiences with yoga. I think there are some pretty funny stories in here. Any and all feedback is welcome! If you're a publisher and you like it, please let me know, and I'll send you more. Thanks! Enjoy... Why did I write this book? As the popularity of yoga continues to grow, more students are needed to progress to the role of teacher. Consequently, many students attend teacher-training sessions throughout the country in order to gain the requisite teaching skills. This is in direct opposition to the traditional method of apprenticing (i.e., your teacher passes down his/her knowledge via personal training sessions). I personally attended an advanced teacher-training session walking away with a great deal of knowledge concerning asana, yoga philosophy, meditation and pranayama. It was excellent. However, no matter how much information is given, most of these programs lack an essential element when it comes to the world of teaching. Many of our new and existing yoga teachers know little about the theoretical aspects of learning, teaching methodologies, and how to apply them to teaching yoga. We probably all know of the yogi that becomes a teacher via a teacher-training program. The trainee possesses the asana knowledge and precision, but when it comes to teaching, may have trouble connecting with the students. They either have no idea what it means to “learn,” or they are simply copying the style of their previous teacher. After all, doesn’t it make sense that a teacher should understand what it means to learn? A theoretical understanding of learning and solid pedagogical skills (i.e., teaching methodologies) coupled with the subject expertise, completes the teaching package. When you have this type of teacher, you instantly know it, and feel completely at ease. So, the main purpose of this book is to help instructors gain a better understanding of what it means to learn; thus, improving their teaching and curriculum design. My Journey Into Yoga I won’t say that I’m the least likely candidate for becoming a yogi, but I’m damn close. I was raised in the typical mid-western-family-style: no swearing in the house, church on Sundays, meat and potatoes constitute a “meal,” a dad that would scare the shit out of you with his booming voice, video games, constant television, especially sports, and if yoga was mentioned, it would soon be qualified by terms like pansies, freaks, and queers. I didn’t have salmon and/or avocado until my 20s, and I thought healthy eating was adding some iceberg lettuce to my grilled burger. While growing up, the biggest event of each week was waiting to see what happens on Georgia Championship Wrestling and hoping with great anticipation that the traveling show would come our way for some live action. I could go on and on, but I’m already too embarrassed. Part of my journey with yoga has been trying to come to terms with who I was, who I am, and how I fit into yoga as a practice. I’ll never forget how I was introduced into yoga. My best friend Josh Jacobs looked like he was going to be sick, “You want to take your first yoga class at 24-Hour Fitness!” Josh was raised in a Jewish family outside of Boston – his parents wrote a macrobiotic cookbook together. My parents liked to get hamburgers at McDonalds, sit on the restaurant’s front lawn, and watch the cars go by. None of the five kids in the Jacobs’ family were immunized, and to this day remain the healthiest family I’ve ever seen. My family was a household of prescription drug addicts, and is plagued by allergies, mental illness and a host of other ailments. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, we were just very different than the Jacobs’ family. When I met Josh, and he talked about his family, it didn’t surprise me that he was into yoga. He had extensive experience with several different forms for a guy in his twenties. He mocked my weight lifting, “…that’s good for beach muscles,” and told me that 24-Hour Fitness would not provide the real yoga experience for which I was seeking. He told me my only option in town was a guy named “Timo” (Tee-moe). Josh said with great confidence, “He will provide you with a true yoga experience and practice.” Well, Josh was right. To this day, it’s one of the best things Josh has done for me, and he has done a lot of great things for me. Getting me to class was a whole different story. My First Yoga Class I trusted Josh quite a bit, but I didn’t even have a yoga mat. I didn’t know what to wear or what to expect once the class got underway. Walking into Timo Jimenez’s studio was something I’ll never forget. I can still smell the incense burning, and see him meditating in front of the class as students were streaming in. The lights were dim and the music was the “Endless Ohm.” For the most part, students just sort of laid out their mats, kept their heads down, and sat quietly. It was spooky. Josh was kind enough to come with me to my first yoga class. I’m glad he did, because he took the time to introduce me to Timo, and he set up his mat next to mine so I could watch what he was doing. It was quite obvious that I would need some extra assistance. Eventually, before the class started, Timo came up to me and Josh did the introductions. Timo didn’t say much, but sort of looked at me like I was wounded – he was right. After years and years of weight lifting and running, my body was sewn up as tight as drum. Worse yet, so was my ego. I wasn’t “meathead-quality” in the musculature and/or ego department, but my 5’ 8, 160 pound frame eclipsed the women and other men in class. I couldn’t raise my hands over my head and touch my hands. Bending over and touching my toes was out of the question, and I seemed to be in constant pain during the entire class. Worse yet, when Timo announced “…take a in full inhale. Move the breath to sound as we chant ohm,” I thought, “How can I do the ohm chant when I don’t even know all the words.” Timo has a comprehensive beginners program now, but back when I started, students just joined the “beginner’s class.” It was incredibly difficult. He started with Udiyana Bandha and things just got worse from there. He went around the room while students lay on their backs checking to see if they were getting it. I could hear him encouraging students, “That’s it – times 10!” He checked my ability to “isolate” the bandha and said, “That’s it – times 100!” Times 100!? I was sucking my gut in for all it was worth with absolutely no concept of what was going on. It would take me years to understand Udiyana Bandha and Ujjayi Pranayama. It wasn’t Timo’s fault – other students were picking it up just fine. Something inside me would not allow myself to learn. During that first class, my mind quickly retreated back to my high school wrestling days when I was constantly ridiculed by my coach. “Schreck, you’re not working hard enough! Schreck, get your lazy ass moving! Schreck, if you could have won the match, you should have won the match!” With all his intensity and yelling, him and many other male coaches over the years, I started to realize the limitations of testosterone. That wrestling coach - the man was a walking exclamation point. He scared the shit out of all of us, not jus me. We all thought we might die during practice, and many of us contemplated quitting on the spot, but we were too afraid. Does that sound familiar? While Timo didn’t scare me, the practice did. As my first yoga class wore on, I surveyed the class seeing someone in forward bend thinking, “Okay. I can do that.” Then a second later, I watched in amazement and awe as a female student gracefully lifted her foot in Utthita Padangusthasana. I thought “I’ll never do that as long as I live. And, why would I want to?” The more the class wore on, the more I thought yoga wasn’t for me. However, there was a constant struggle with my ego saying, “Vince, you can do this. Josh doesn’t seem to have any trouble with this class.” Ahhh…finally I got to lie down, close my eyes and reflect. Timo started spewing some “yoga bullshit,” but I was too stupid to listen to any of it. At the time, I thought he was talking to everyone but me. As a matter of fact, I fell asleep in my first Savasana, but when I woke up, I really woke up. After leaving class, I knew a few things: Timo is one intense guy who takes yoga seriously; if I stay with yoga, Timo and I will clash many times over the next few years; and finally, Timo will be the person who needs to teach me yoga. I left the studio feeling somewhat defeated, but it was just what my ego needed to keep me coming back to class. Timo In the next few years, I found out that my assessment of Timo was correct. He was my teacher, even though I would never seem to say it, or admit it to anyone. The thing I liked best about him was that he introduced me to several other wonderful teachers who I will talk about later. However, Timo was such a character; I could write a whole book on just his shenanigans. One of his favorite things to do was to get the class in a pose, and say things like, “…the feet are aligned in Trikonasana.” He would keep saying it over and over, but he would never say the person’s name. Each time he would repeat himself, he seemed to get more and more annoyed. Everyone would be holding the pose for minutes looking around for the culpable person, wondering all the time, “Is it me? Are my feet aligned? Shit! Will someone just align their goddamn feet already? Opps…it is me after all!” Six years later, I can honestly say that those long holds really paid off. But at the time, I literally thought the guy was nuts, and would often contemplate quitting, but again, I think I was too afraid. Timo is famous for his inability to tell time. At least, that’s how it seemed after the class would routinely run up to and often past, three hours! Yes. You read that correctly – his classes would routinely exceed three hours. I often would go home after a 7:30PM start time, and it would be nearly 11PM! At first, I thought it was very inconsiderate, but over time, I learned to love his generosity. After all, he wasn’t charging extra for his time, and did I really have somewhere to be? I just had to shift my own perspective, and the perspective of my wife waiting out in the car, and that wasn’t the only time. One of my favorite Timo stories happened deep into a 2+ hour session. We were getting ready for the closing sequence, which entails some pretty intense inverted postures. Timo said, “If you’re on your moon-cycle, I’ll give you some alternate poses.” In front of a class of at least twelve women, I asked Timo aloud, and with dead-pan sincerity, “Am I on my moon-cycle?” Although incredibly polite, the women burst out laughing, and I gave Timo the look – “What are they laughing about?” Timo just turned his back and said, “No Vince, you’re not on your moon-cycle.” Luckily, my wife explained it to me later that evening, or to this day, I probably would still be in the dark. That’s not the only time Timo singled me out in class to the delight of the crowd. One of Timo’s good friends is Tias Little, who runs a teacher training program out of Santa Fe, New Mexico, and has made a name for himself as a contributor to Yoga Journal. Tias is an expert in yoga anatomy, and about the time I started, published an article on the bandha in the foot, which he referred to as the “padabandha.” Timo didn’t realize that I was an ardent reader of Yoga Journal and had practically memorized Tias’ article. I literally thought Timo might quiz us on the article during class. Sure enough, we’re in Trikonasana and fast approaching the usual 3 minute hold time, and Timo starts talking about the article. In his somewhat methodical drawl, he said, “Tias Little has just published an article about the foot in Yoga Journal.” He kept going on and on, and we were all about ready to fall over. Finally, he approached me still in Trikonasana and wrapped it up – “…and you should all read this wonderful article.” While he was adjusting me, I looked up at him with a strained look on my face and a quiver in my voice. I said semi-confidently, “Yeah…it’s a good article. I read it twice.” He stepped on my back foot, changed several things about my pose, and walking away saying loudly to the class, “Read it again!” His voice continued to drift off, “…and again, and again, and again…”