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Yoga Saint

Dreamed 2010/12/4 by Wayan


I start a small painting destined for this planet I'm building, Abyssia--a cherrytree hill dappled in petals, with a penciled, lightly built centaur sprawled in the foreground. Also add a 'taur to one of my late mom's discarded canvas scraps, depicting flowers and brush. Strange mixture of our styles.

In the evening I read Furry! (an anthology of anthropomorphic tales edited by Fred Patten). Two strike me:


I'm in a lecture held impromptu in a basement cafeteria, like Stanford's business school. Crowded. A famous yoga teacher leads us--a tough, lean middle-aged woman. Echoing room, but she holds their attention and they keep quiet; she's heard. Says to lay down blanket and coats over the linoleum floor. We do, but it's very crowded.

I'm with friends including two or three women I don't know well; attractive. A couple of them have cynical, negative styles, but humor and strong auras underneath. Healing from hard pasts. They sit on a fallen log (?!) and talk; I join in, joke and flirt a bit. Spread a blanket nearby, in the very back of the hall.

Then a tall, slender man with a saintly aura, an advanced yoga student or instructor, greets the women on the log... by patting them on the head! They wince and look dizzy; he's doing something to their auras without their consent. Sense a smudgy charcoal twist in their auras around the sixth and seventh chakras. He's deliberately inducing headaches!

And he's not done. Hovers, and the moment any of them indulges in any negativity, he twists one hand into a mudra and jabs it at her gut or cunt and... twists. Her third and second chakras turn dim and muddy, and she doubles over with cramps.

One short woman angrily tries his own medicine back at him--the head conk, the mudra in the gut. He calmly lets her; he's quite untouched. He seems to think this proves a point--that his immunity shows spiritual advancement and authority--his right to practice aversion therapy without their consent! A cumbersome phrase for abuse. For attacks! He's quite guiltless--their negativity clouds their judgment, so he knows what's best for them.

Cold fury floods me. The next time he touches one of them I plan to stroll over and hit him hard in the face. If that provokes an attack to the head or the gut, I'll knee his balls. And then tell people "he attacked this woman and then swung at me"--characterizing his aura-curses as the aura-rape it is. This isn't teaching. It's abuse, and it has to stop now.

Won't be easy. He won't listen--why should he? He knows best; we're all corrupt.

Has the yoga teacher failed to spot this... or does she condone it?


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