I Taught Rick Majerus a Yoga Class

Rick Majerus motivated young men to perform to their maximum ability. He coached the Utah Utes, a mid-major team without much history of winning, for 15 seasons compiling a remarkable 323 victories. His 1998 team finished as NCAA national runners-up. Coaching college-aged men involves repeated instructions on discipline. But Majerus battled for years to keep his own weight in check.

Four years ago, I met Majerus at the Pritikin Longevity Center, an all-inclusive program that fosters healthy living. Many attendees have serious dietary and/or weight problems. Majerus was certainly one of them: he couldn't participate in the traditional gym exercises because of his obesity. Instead, he swam.

My husband and I met Majerus at a dinner there. He was a charming conversationalist who told great stories and was keenly interested in what other people had to say. During our discussion, I told him how I was urging Pritikin to update their yoga program to include a one-week, intensive course on vinyasa yoga and meditation. Majerus became intrigued and asked me many questions about yoga. He said his team loved to go to hot yoga classes as it helped them keep their weight down and improve flexibility. Then, he asked if I would give him a private lesson! I agreed, got permission from Pritikin, and designed a class for him based on the limitations of his physique: 20 minutes standing, 20 minutes in a chair, 20 minutes on the floor.

Majerus came to the lesson with an athlete's intensity; he had incredible focus for the entire hour (I later found out that during his college years he tried out for the Marquette basketball team as a walk-on). He sweated profusely without the room being heated. For shivassana, he needed several folded towels under his head and a bolster under his leg because he couldn't lie down flat comfortably.

Afterwards, he expressed his appreciation for the lesson and said to me “I felt something.” It was a hopeful moment since he was beginning to identify his body’s potential; that it was still very alive. He seemed touched that I was happy to do this with him, and I truly was. Then we talked about what to do once he left Pritikin. Even then he sounded fatalistic, saying he lacked confidence in his self-control outside of an all-inclusive, regimented program. I knew how to help him, but felt I needed more time.

Working in basketball arenas was a major problem, as there wasn't a good way for him to get moving and breathing. His desk overlooked exercise equipment, but he was too out of shape to use it. He couldn't check his eating, in part, because his "office" lacked healthy food choices. When he asked arena cooks to make him a vegetable tray for his suite, they would say, "If we do it for you, we have to do it for everyone." It frustrated him that he was supposed to be a mentor and role model to athletes at their physical peak, and he couldn't lose weight.

Majerus knew he was in trouble. His father died at age 63 from heart failure, and he came to Pritikin to literally try and save his life. They hammered home the point that his time was running short and he needed to drastically alter his habits. I told him that he had to be much more open about his health and find a coach of his own that would keep him moving.

To my sadness and many others in the basketball community, Majerus passed on December 1, 2012 of heart failure at the age of 64.

As evidenced by his coaching career that far exceeded expectations, Majerus had a drive to succeed. The same drive that allowed him to win on the basketball court didn’t translate to his own health because change requires exceptional willpower – the kind of willpower that becomes second nature, habit, and perhaps no longer willpower at all. It certainly wouldn’t have been impossible for Majerus to positively reform his lifestyle, but it’s hard to get to this stage when habit has gone in the other direction for so long. 

My Brother's Remarkable Report of a Military Vet Learning TM

My brother Gary and his wife Naomi are initiators in the practice of Transcendental Meditation. Recently, they had the opportunity to introduce a down-on-his-luck military veteran to the practice. The results were immediate and profound. Gary was so overjoyed with the success of this man's transformation that he shared it with friends and family.

I would like to share it with you now, in full:

Before attending Governor Recertification this past summer, Naomi and I were able to give intro/prep lecture presentations at two different veterans centers. Both were well received, and I went to Fairfield knowing we had veterans who wanted instruction in TM when we returned, and that most of them would need financial assistance to learn. 

It was the personal interview with the last man, C.R., at the second lecture, that really sparked my passion for this effort. When I saw that there was no address filled in on his personal interview form, I diplomatically suggested he must have overlooked this line. He barely looked up at me when he answered that he didn’t have an address. He had not worked in quite some time because he could not handle pressure, and he kept having meltdowns, getting into arguments, and even violent confrontations. And that stress had carried over into his home life, where he was constantly arguing with his wife when he wasn’t hiding from the world, shut up in his room. So he and his wife had separated, and he was now living in a tent … in the Everglades. 

I looked at this man and my heart just broke. His face was a mask of sorrow and despair, and he looked utterly shut down; his chest barely moved when he breathed. He looked as if he had lost all hope and I wanted to give him a reason to be patient, to hang in there, until I could secure the course tuition for him to be instructed. So when he asked me if I thought TM could really help him, I told him I was confident it would. 

Working with the David Lynch Foundation, I was able to secure scholarship money for C.R. and another vet to learn upon our return from Fairfield. When we called these men to tell them the good news, they were overjoyed and very grateful. So we set the date for their course of instruction. 

When C.R. arrived for his instruction he looked very worried and tense. We talked only briefly, and he again expressed hope that this would work. I looked at him at told him that he would now be starting a new chapter in his life, and began his instruction. He had a good, relaxing experience, barely wanted to open his eyes when his time of meditation was up. I completed his initiation and gave him his going home instructions. 

The next day, as I was preparing the lecture hall for the arrival of our students, the door opened, and in walked C.R and he was smiling, beaming really. I asked him about it, and he said, “Last night I slept through the night … for the first time in 21 years.” That immediately got my attention. When we discussed experiences, he said he was now back in his home, and with a big smile, that his wife had said it was different when he kissed her. When I replied that we would have to do more research on that, he laughed, and said he had a question: “For months, I have been seeing two psychiatrists, two social workers, a psychologist, just completed an anger management course, an been taking handfuls of medications. And in one day of doing TM I have gotten more relief than all of those other things combined. Is this normal?” I answered that dramatic results are often reported, and we’ll see how it goes day by day.  

The second day of class he mentions that he called six friends. When I ask if that is typical for him, he tells the class that he has not called anybody for months and months. He basically was staying out of sight in his room. But he wanted to reconnect with people, so he made some calls. Everyone in the class recognizes how significant this change is for this man — he is now reaching out to re-establish relationships. Earlier that day, his wife had accompanied him to see one of his social workers, crying tears of gratitude for the change in her husband. (This gets the attention of the social worker, who decides she also must learn TM.) Again, his experiences on his form are very positive. He clearly is practicing correctly and is noticing dramatic changes. 

The third day of class, he walks in smiling again, and proceeds to give us a glowing report. He tells everyone, since he learned TM he has been sleeping through the night, and he has had no nightmares. Many people have commented on the change in him — his wife, a social worker, and his pastor. At church, he was hugging people. He reclines comfortably in his seat: “I have my mojo, my life back again. Every veteran with PTSD should be able to learn this. My wife and I want to invite you over for dinner, and I want to become a teacher of this meditation.” 

I am so moved by the transformation in this man, I can barely speak. I manage to say, “We’re all very happy for you. As teachers, this is why we teach.” 

Two-and-a-half weeks later, he comes to have his meditation checked. His experience is very good, easy, and effortless. Very gratifying also is his understanding of the practice. He mentions that sometimes in meditation he will see images of some of the horrors of war that he witnessed in Iraq, but they are fleeting, and surprisingly lacking in intensity — he just follows the instructions he was given and it is not a problem. He is still sleeping through the night, and has not had a nightmare since he was instructed. And he is talking about working again as a chef. 

As we discover in conversation with C.R., he is a very accomplished man, both as a decorated military veteran with Special Forces experience, and as an executive chef of a kitchen in a five star restaurant, who has opened multiple restaurants, and executive chef responsible for food operations at major sports facilities. As he talks, Naomi and I can see the intelligence, command, and confidence expressed through his words, experience and posture. Quite a transformation in two-and-a-half weeks. Amazing. This is easily the most gratifying experience I have ever had as an initiator. And this is why we say: “Jai Guru Dev.”

Cardio Junkies Anonymous

Hello, my name is Gail Mondry and I am a cardio junkie.

I think I’m mostly in the clear though. It’s been several years since I overcame the worst of my symptoms. I realize now that the dual injuries of a broken toe and torn back changed my outlook—that’s when I first took an honest look at my fitness habits and acknowledged the addiction I’ve been facing for thirty or so years.

Okay, so my so-called “addiction” obviously isn’t as serious as the ones that cause people meet regularly at Alcoholics Anonymous. It may not threaten my life, but it can and did threaten my wellbeing. And I think my self-realization can help other potential “addicts.” Maybe my cautionary tale will prevent others from suffering injuries like mine.

I got my training in fitness during the era when group exercise was becoming more defined. Before, it was a luxury to get a quick, intense workout with instruction. Now exercise as social activity is the norm. There are so many ways to get your cardio fix in a class—spin, pilates, zumba, etc.— and the list keeps expanding. This is both a good and bad thing.

The modern variety in fitness options means you can find the class that suits your body type and interests, but it also causes people to inadvertently abuse their bodies. It makes it easier to indulge your cardio addiction, get the rush of endorphins so frequently that it causes imbalances. Not only this, but cross-training without proper stretching compounds injuries and issues. When you’re in the midst of a vigorous regimen you feel invincible. But we know that you have to stretch as much as you pound.

The suburban lifestyle that has become so ingrained in the Midwest has only exacerbated these problems. Many of us sit, in front of a computer or in a car, for large portions of the day, and try to compensate in bursts extreme workouts.

For years I got “high” on all the exciting things happening in fitness clubs. I loved teaching those invigorating group classes. But I wouldn’t stop there. I would go from teaching a double step class to playing 1.5 hours of tennis in a clinic and round it off with a spinning class. I would do maybe five minutes of stretching after each activity. And I did this for twenty years. Thinking I could maintain this daily aerobic schedule injury-free was kind of foolish.

Maybe I’m still a junkie, but nowadays I’m not able to satisfy my cardio urges because of my schedule, which got considerably busier since starting a business. Yoga has certainly tempered a lot of my cardio dependence. After only my second yoga class, I knew my body had found what it craved—not the intensity and constant movement, but to be treated well. I immediately learned things about my body. For starters, I found that my knee injury actually originated from my hip.

Even after discovering yoga it was still a challenge not to overdo it. I sustained my recent toe and back injuries at the height of my yoga teaching and practice. I got hurt because I couldn’t get rid of the junkie in me. It was a rush to be upside-down on my hands, and to teach others to do the same. I pushed my body too hard. I took classes on the coasts, where everything seems to be harder, faster, and hotter. I took what I learned and incorporated them into my own teachings. In short, my practice became more intense.

Even though yoga promotes a healthy lifestyle, you still need to be careful and recognize your own limits. If you’re doing yoga three times a day, that’s an addiction. Yoga is not about transferring your need to raise your heart rate into a more sustainable practice. Don’t get me wrong, I’m overjoyed to see so many in their middle-ages find an option that allows them to keep working hard. But as Sharron Gannon stated at the Jivamukti Tribal gathering, “If your practice always has to be harder and faster, it means you’re not at peace.

I Knew Madonna When ...

A couple of weeks ago I “watched” the Super Bowl. But for me, the football was the least interesting part of the broadcast. The Chrysler advertisement featuring Clint Eastwood was amazing. I was most attentive, however, during Madonna’s halftime show.

I’m a little biased though. Against football, because I just can’t seem to get into it and practice nonviolence, and towards Madonna, because she’s a former classmate of mine at Marygrove College in Detroit. Watching her career progress over the years has been so exciting. She was a dance major. I was working towards a dance therapy degree. We performed in the same dance company and our lockers were right next to each other!

Despite our proximity, I can’t say I knew Madonna all that well. Basically, she didn’t have time to make any purely social connections because she was the most focused and driven dancer in the program. Perhaps she cared only about her career, practiced incessantly, and viewed us as potential rivals. But that’s just speculation.

She definitely left an impression during the short time she took classes at Marygrove. Every day her arrival was like a comet streaking through the hallways. Sometimes that comet looked like it had slept in a car the previous night, but the luminosity never dimmed. She had, what my teacher would call, a burning desire to create change in her life. It showed in the way she practiced, day in and day out.

Even though she never said explicitly that she wanted to be famous, we all felt it. And it would have been a bold proclamation because she spent all her time dancing. I’ve heard that she’s often been self-conscious about her voice. While that may not be what she’s known for, I’m sure that she worked at it with the same zeal she did as a dance major.

Madonna certainly did become successful, probably beyond even her wildest dreams. She wasn’t at Marygrove for very long, maybe a little over a year, before moving to New York and rocketing to stardom. And she’s been at or near the top ever since. I can’t help but wonder, since I’ve changed career paths as well to become a yoga instructor, if her well-known fanaticism for yoga has contributed to her longevity and youthful looks. Some of those moves she made during halftime showed that she’s been practicing yoga for many years! In my brief acquaintance with Madonna, I never knew her to do anything but at full speed. This applied to dancing, lifestyle choices, and from what I’ve heard and read, yoga. Her longevity in the business, her ability to avoid career-threatening vices, and her sustained athleticism gives a strong argument for the yoga’s efficacy.

So to me it’s no surprise she’s become so famous. Passion is the key ingredient to achievement—there’s no better example of this than Madonna.

An Inspirational Weekend at the 5th Annual Bikram Yoga Women's Retreat

[I have included quotes from memory of Emmy Cleaves and Rajashree Chaudhury throughout this entry.]

Your time is now.

Recently, I had the wonderful opportunity to attend the 5^th annual Women’s Retreat in Texas with around 200 other women. It was an amazing event for a number of reasons, but the teachers truly made the weekend stand out.

Keep happy memories alive, let go of sad ones.

Emmy Cleaves is a Holocaust survivor in her mid-80s. I had read about the tragedies in her early life and was interested in her story and relationship to yoga. But during the course of the retreat, she never once uttered the world “Holocaust” or made reference to those events. She only made a single, passing remark about “tension headaches,” and the relief she got from Bikram yoga.

As you might expect, Emmy prides herself on being tough. When you learn of her story, Emmy’s dictum—“life is hard, get over it”—takes on a profound significance. She is old school, direct, and teaches you to practice yoga and life with as few crutches as possible. In other words, take ownership and responsibility.

Don’t feel guilty. You deserve to be happy.

Emmy’s fellow teacher, Rajashree Chaudhury,  is the co-creator of the Bikram Yoga Teacher Training program. She is younger than Emmy but carries the wisdom of many lives. Her story is one of adaptation. She was married by arrangement and then had to integrate her old-world customs into her newfound California lifestyle.

You can feel Rajashree’s warmth as she teaches and lectures. She talks about the love she feels for her children, as well as the joys and challenges of being a businesswoman.

Sometimes you need to inspire yourself.

Discern the difference between pain and challenges.

The intermingling of these two different perspectives was fascinating. Some of Raja and Emmy’s core principles were the same. For example, they both preached the importance of working diligently towards your own happiness. But on the means to arriving at that end, they diverged.

Emmy’s past informed her realist perspective on life. Every day, every decision, and every pose is a challenge and you must stay focused through it all. Yoga is a key element to that constant vigilance.

Thanks to her much deserved success, Rajashree is much more of an optimist. Us women drew inspiration from her positive attitude and hopeful words. For her, yoga keeps one balanced mentally and physically and on the right track.

Yoga without mindfulness is just calisthenics.

Much of the insight they imparted would apply to any practice. But in this context, considering their life stories, the women’s retreat reinforced my choice to move towards my own happiness. These two women have experienced a great deal in their life. You can tell this just by listening to their wisdom and witnessing their health, personalities, and attitudes. Yoga has made them very solid in their belief that a physically and mentally challenging daily practice prepares you for the very real demands of life. 

Student of the Month

I was recently named Bikram Student of the Month by the Detroit Bikram studio! Here's the story:

At Detroit Bikram, we are always amazed at the wide variety of students who come to practice at our studios. Our students come from all walks of life. They range from different age groups (early teens to way into their 80's believe it or not), to a wide variety of professions. From doctors, teachers, nurses, stay at home moms/dads, lawyers, architects, waitresses, retirees, college students, professional athletes, and even yoga instructors who teach other styles of Hatha Yoga. That brings us to our next Student of the Month: Gail Mondry.

Read the rest of the story here.

A Lesson from a Master Teacher

Amidst all of the stories being released around the 10^th anniversary of 9/11, I was reminded of my own experience soon after that tragic day. This is not meant to be a commentary about the event—there have been plenty of those already. Instead, I wanted to relate a relevant story, which highlights the benefit yoga has in traumatic times.

Thirty days after 9/11 my husband and I flew to New York for an international meeting of a scientific institute we support. Naturally I was nervous to fly. But I took comfort in my yoga mat, which I slung over my shoulder and felt securely against my back. Arriving at LaGuardia with heightened security was quite startling. There were police and dogs and more than once I was asked to open my yoga bag.

The meeting was at the mostly empty Waldorf Astoria. Soon after unpacking, I researched potential workshops and found one in the Village called “How to Improve the Quality of Your Practice,” taught by Mark Whitwell. I had never had the opportunity to practice with Mark, but had certainly heard about him. I signed up online and got up early the next morning to go downtown.

When I exited the subway in the Village, I was immediately overcome by the astringent smell in the air and the presence of silt everywhere. On the mailboxes, benches, windowsills, street signs, there was a film of the debris, which I knew had been the remains of the planes and buildings. It is one thing to see images of the aftermath on television. It is quite another to experience the devastation. The fact that so much rubble remained thirty days after was extremely startling.

I arrived at the studio to find close to a hundred teachers in a very agitated state. I heard a louder than normal buzz in the room from nervous chatter and students grabbing woodblocks and straps and bolsters and trying to find a place for their mat. I wasn’t used to practicing with props but I grabbed a couple anyway, feeling agitated myself.

In strode the striking presence of Mark Whitwell. Without much explanation, he encouraged us to let go of the props and start breathing. He seemed oppressed by his inherited responsibility as a master teacher to help all of us deal with the situation at hand.

But his practice was precisely what every teacher in that room needed.

This workshop forever changed how I will view a yoga practice. It wasn’t about postures, or sequencing, or props, or alignment. It was very simple asanas, coming to our breath, child’s pose. There wasn’t any music or adjustments. There was crying, moving toward healing, and repetition of simple postures. And a lot of sitting.

Mark revealed to me the true purpose of yoga: connecting the mind to the breath, linking breath to movement in order to still the fluctuations of the mind.

Processing trauma is very difficult. It takes a focused mind to move out of a harmful situation into the promise of a calmer self. What I participated in that day was something to which I and the other hundred teachers could immediately relate.

But, what about the hundreds of people I passed on the street and in the metro on my way to the studio? They walked briskly, heads down, as if trying to bore their way to their destination. They were still paranoid and stressed, like I had felt when navigating through the airport the previous day.

Mark Whitwell’s workshop reminded me of the skill set that a steady yoga practice provides. It is grounding. It prepares you for battles that you can’t anticipate in your life. But when they arrive, you are much more fit to face them.