For the Ex-Patriates

I’ve been thinking of myself as an Anusara ex-patriate these days. It feels good to me. I did this before when I lived abroad—I left my original home, by choice, and had to find my way in a new place. During the last few days, I’ve heard a lot of voices in this new ex-pat community. I wrote this because I want you to know that in my opinion, what we are feeling and experiencing is normal and valid.

1. You may have left because of JF’s financial misconduct. You may have left because of his sexual misconduct. You may have left for some other reason pertaining to JF. You may have left for some other reason NOT pertaining to JF. Some people will assume they know why you left. Some people will ask you questions. Some people will not be able to look at you. Some people will love you up.

2. Most people, in or out, understand that this is a HELL of a situation. Few of us saw this coming. Most people understand that we all have a responsibility to live according to our own lights and in response to our own experiences. As my old friend and sadhana sister Jackie Prete says, it takes courage to stay. It takes courage to go.

3. Some people will resent you for leaving. Some people feel will feel betrayed and won’t like you. Some people will think you made your decision haphazardly. For me, this last one feels ill-informed at best and insulting at worst. My advice: don’t worry about this too much. You’ve made your decision, chances are good you did not make it haphazardly, and everyone has to live with it. No need to go on a mission explaining yourself. There are plenty of other people who honor the work that you did to come to your decision.

4. Some people will offer support and sweetly wish you well. This feels fantastic. As I enjoy the support of my loving students, friends, family, and colleagues, it has also been important for me to remind myself that I did not make my decision based on anybody else’s opinion, regardless of whether it is approval or disapproval.

5. You may totally forgive JF. You may feel that you never will. You may forgive JF and desire to see him held accountable for his behavior. You may feel he HAS been held accountable for his behavior. You may mourn the change of your relationship with an important teacher. You may feel that it was never about JF for you.

6. You might feel hopeful that Anusara yoga will continue. You might feel hopeful that Anusara yoga will be wiped off the face of the earth. I mostly feel the former—many of my friends remain committed to Anusara yoga and I personally worked my ass off for her for eleven years. Sometimes I feel the latter. Perhaps this makes me a bad person. Perhaps this just makes me a person.

7. Anusara may end sooner, with a bang. Anusara may end later, with a whimper. Anusara may immediately regroup, reorganize, and turn this thing around. Anusara may take months, even years, to come to terms with these events and with JF. We will all have complex feelings about whatever the outcome is.

8. You may find yourself wishing the people remaining in Anusara yoga well. You may not. In my opinion, it is well within the range of “normal” to want others to see the situation exactly how we see it. However, as we well know, such a wish is not only pointless, but foolish. Variety is the spice of life. Even if you hate cilantro, you must admit it exists and that some people like it.

9. If Anusara yoga endures, you might take up your license again. You might not. Perhaps you already know in your viscera that you will never go back. Perhaps you’re just waiting for things to settle down, for certain personal criteria to be met, so that you can return. Regardless of your decisions on these matters, again, some will agree with your decision, and some will not. Again, either way takes courage.

10. You may feel lost in your teaching without the anchor of self-identifying as an Anusara yoga teacher. You may feel that your teaching has never been better. You may alternate depending on the day. As my college roommate used to say, the important thing is not to panic. I think we can expect to feel the texture of this transition in our teaching. As you well know, making and adapting to changes in your teaching takes time.

11. You may feel like starting up something new with your buddies. You may feel like watching and waiting what Anusara yoga does. You may feel like delving more deeply into your own activities. You may feel like doing nothing but sitting catatonically staring at the wall. Guess what—all valid responses!

Do any of these resonate with you?

Love to all.

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

Last week, after a bunch of us had resigned our Anusara yoga licenses, one of my staff called me. “Emma, what I am going to do about all the times I say ‘we’ in my classes? All the times I say, ‘this is how we do it in Anusara yoga’, or ‘my teacher John Friend teaches that…’?"

I have only just begun to figure that stuff out myself. My teaching is peppered with self-referential comments about Anusara yoga’s founder, method, and community. Now that I’m re-examining these phrases, I realize why I used them so much: I never felt that my personal authority was enough to support what I was teaching.

As I told my friend, these events make me question: on whose authority do I speak? For eleven years I have rested on the authority granted me by John Friend and Anusara yoga. Now that I’ve resigned my license, what gives me the right to tell the 30 people in my class this morning what to do with their bodies?

I’ve concluded that it comes from this:

• my deep personal study of and inquiry into the matters under consideration
• my long experience of observing human bodies doing hatha yoga
• my community of STUDENTS who choose to come to class and listen

I wish I could say that my authority is derived from my teachers (one of whom was John Friend) and my community of colleagues (Anusara yoga teachers and otherwise). But frankly, it doesn’t. Nobody’s listening to me because I have the John Friend seal of approval or because I have a good relationship with my colleagues. They’re listening to me because they perceive that I know what I’m doing. The people who don’t think I know what I’m doing, or don’t like what I’m doing, don’t come back! But enough of them DO come back that I know my offerings are striking a chord.

Any one of my regular students could have told me this, and in fact they have been telling me so over and over this week. I am so grateful. I feel that I’ve suddenly awakened to the fact that I have practiced hatha yoga for 13 years, I’ve taught it for eleven years, I have a degree in acupuncture, I am a well-educated, intelligent, creative, funny, mostly kind person. It’s time to claim my authority as my own.

Phrases I’m using now:

“In my experience…”
“The first time I tried this I…”
“Many of my students have told me that…”
“I’ve found that…”
“One of my teachers once told me that…”

Watch out world.

What It’s Been Like to Teach

First, some context: I have taught 8-15 Anusara yoga classes a week for the last eleven years (this ain’t my first time at the rodeo). I’ve taught nine classes since my resignation.

Second, a point to remember: a couple of people have asked me if I had a Plan B when I resigned. Even one week ago, I thought I would die an Anusara yoga teacher. So no, I don’t have a Plan B. I never thought I’d need one. I am flying by the seat of my pants. Good times!

Just a couple of things that have come up:

1. The Invocation

Five seconds before my first class P.A. ( “Post Anusara”) began, I had a hurried conversation with myself in the vestibule outside the studio.

Self 1: Shit! What am I going to do about the Invocation!?

Self 2: Well, Anusara doesn’t own that mantra, and Krishna Das wrote the music. So you’re good! Fire away!

Self 1 (dubious): okay….

I sat down, gave what I thought was the most incoherent theme of my life, and sang it. IT. FELT. AWFUL. Why did it feel so awful? I’m still trying to figure that out. Probably because I strongly identify that mantra with AY, and my feelings about AY at that time were, shall we say, at a nadir.

Next class, I chanted three Oms only. Guess what? THAT FELT AWFUL TOO. I’m teaching a Teacher Training right now and several of the participants came to that class support me (thanks a bazillion guys, because I needed it that day). There was a tangible pause in the room after the third Om. To tell the truth, I missed it. I flat-out missed it. The trainees all knew what was going on, and I’m sure they missed it. The other students didn’t know what was going on, and if they even noticed, they probably missed it too.

So since then, I’ve been singing it. I refer to it as “our invocation” (no capitalization). Who is the “our” I am referring to? The people in the room, in my local community, who are used to singing it and like it. Most of them don’t know anything about the events of the last two weeks—why eliminate something from my class that gives them joy? There’s no other context in most of their lives where they are encouraged to sing. I am relieved that I’ve managed to make peace with it, because my studio at present is a mix of current and former Anusara teachers, and I feel like it will be less confusing for the students if I’m doing the same thing I always did. That being said, if the former Anusara teachers on my staff want to do something different, that’s fine by me. They need to find their own ways too.

2. Anusara Yoga’s Universal Principles of Alignment

This is a tricky issue, because it involves trademarking, and I will probably have to ask a lawyer about it. Goddammit.

I’ve been able to put off asking because I rarely say, “Universal Principles of Alignment” in my class. I also very rarely use the jargon of Anusara yoga in my classes—I was trained not to do so.

Am I still teaching the Anusara yoga method? Well, as my buddy Christina says, I’m not teaching thighs forward! I love those UPAs. They were the foundation and the architecture of my teaching for eleven years. I continue to believe that John Friend is a hatha yoga master, with brilliant insight into biomechanics.

And yet, it’s a funny thing…in this P.A. phase of my life, I hear a new voice coming out of my mouth. Today I taught a lot about mulabandha, which is definitely something that is addressed in Anusara yoga, but not prominently. I’m teaching about it because this week, as the bottom falls out of my life, my sacrum became extremely unstable, flopping around as I turn over in bed, etc. I look at my students and I notice that they, too, need to engage mulabandha more. Understand: I’m not saying the UPAs destabilize your sacrum—I’m saying that now that I am no longer bound to adhere to them, I seem to be developing a new vision for stuff that doesn’t feature prominently in that framework.

What is this new voice? What is this new vision?

I guess it’s mine.

More later.

Aftermath

It’s been a couple of days, and many thoughts are swirling around in my head. After the searing intensity of the ten days between the publication of jfexposed.com and my resignation, things have settled down a bit. Now I am working on two fronts: trying to offer support to those in my community who are grappling with these events, and trying to get back to normal in my personal life.

Behind my eyes, there is a third front: the attempt within myself to come to terms with these events.

One: The Betrayal Thing

You must understand: two weeks ago I thought I was going to die an Anusara yoga teacher. I had committed to the method with the same degree of intensity that I committed to my marriage. I am a deeply loyal person, to a fault. Two weeks ago, if you had said to me, “hey Emma, what if John Friend does something REALLY awful? Would that be enough to make you leave Anusara yoga?” I would have replied, “Hell no! Anusara yoga is more than one person, it’s a whole community and a methodology!”

However, here’s the problem I ran up against: the bus is awesome. The people on the bus are awesome. But there is ONLY ONE DRIVER. Legally, nobody has any right to wrest the wheel from the driver. It doesn’t matter how many people stand up in their seats and call out to the driver. While the fellowship among the passengers is beautiful and meaningful, it will not do anything to remove the driver. And the driver…has problems.

Two weeks ago, I did not realize the extent of the driver’s problems.

In the wake of my resignation, I got a few messages from people who feel betrayed by my decision. I understand completely. If I hadn’t seen and heard with my own eyes what I saw and heard, I would also feel baffled and betrayed. In fact, that’s how I felt when my own good friends resigned a few months ago.

I understand completely, and I say to you: out of love for our amazing method, our wonderful community, I gave this situation everything, EVERYTHING I had. It broke my heart to leave my friends and get off the bus. But when I weighed the severing of my legal relationship with Anusara against the destruction of a part of my soul, I had to choose the former.

Two: The Conflagration

It’s hard for me to convey the horrifying rapidity and intensity of the events during “The Ten Days” (I know, it’s melodramatic. But this situation is the biggest melodrama I have ever seen) between the publishing of the accusations and the beginning of the Miami workshop. When I think of it, the images that come to mind pertain to fire. During that time, a small group of us worked together to share information, develop consensus, formulate responses, absorb the effects of our responses, reality-check our reactions, consider the very immediate future, and peer into the more distant future.

It was a time of frantic phone calls and emails, disturbing revelations, and extreme pressure. Pressure from without, as we tried to process our exchanges with John and our wider community, and pressure from within, as each of us looked into our hearts to face some deeply disturbing truths and ask some very hard questions. There was no time to contemplate, or sit with, or meditate on, or give space to, this situation. Why was there no time? Because dreadful accusations had been made, so dreadful that they required an IMMEDIATE rejoinder. Because our whole community was waiting, and waiting, and waiting for some sign, some indication of how to respond, what to think.

In this blazing crucible, I slept maybe 3 hours a night. Exhausted from 21-hour days of emails and phone calls, plunging vertiginously between hope and despair, I would fall into bed and stare into the darkness, unable to close my eyes. Why was I in despair? Because I love Anusara, and I loved John Friend, and I felt that our current course led into chaos, adharma, ethical degeneration, and destruction.

What was I hoping for? I was hoping that the driver would recognize he was lost and receive some input on the route. The beautiful souls on the bus were banding together, communing, baring their hearts, making plans. As I said in my last post, I’ve never, ever been prouder of the Anusara community than I was during The Ten Days.

I am a 35 year old woman. I have no children. I have been blessed with a relatively easy middle-class life in America in the 20^th century. My parents were educated. My family loves me. I have a fabulous job and a deep relationship with a loving husband. I must say that as a human being, I haven’t suffered much in my life. The agony of those Ten Days burned away a part of my being forever. Why was it agony? Because I saw that there was, at the heart of something I cherished and worked at for my entire adult life, a grotesque and disturbing pattern.

Three: The Jump

You all know the quote: “In order to live, you must be willing to die.” And variations.

Resigning my Certification feels like dying. Here’s how it felt when I was making the decision, like a dream: I am running through an inferno to save my child. As I run, the flames get hotter and hotter, burning away my clothes, my flesh, and my bones. My child is gone and all I have left is my soul. Ahead of me appears a cliff. The cliff offers respite from the flames but fear, fear of death. I know in my heart that if I stay in the fire, my soul will be consumed. I jump….

I haven’t landed yet. It’s only been two days.

Some of the people that were running with me jumped too. Those who remain are doing vital work. I admire them so much. Theirs was a route I couldn't take, but I love them so dearly. I know how hard, hard they are working to save a child we all love.

For those of us who jumped, a part of us had to die to go on living. In the end, we could not sacrifice our Selves on the altar of Anusara yoga.

Love and blessings to all. I promise I will have lighter, more optimistic things to say in the future.

Stepping Away from Anusara

Dear Anusara Yoga Colleagues,

As most of you know, on February 2 an anonymous website was posted that accused Anusara yoga founder John Friend of serious misconduct. Like many of you, I initially regarded the website, with its startlingly explicit material, with disbelief. However, John openly acknowledged the truth of the most disturbing accusations on the website.

Even after I discovered the revelations were true, I remained passionately committed to Anusara yoga. I’ve spent the last ten days working around the clock with other Anusara yogins to find a way to separate John Friend, the person, from Anusara yoga, the method and community we all love. I felt this would be healthiest for everyone involved, including John. I was deeply moved to see our whole community rise up on Facebook, supporting each other, suggesting ways to move forward, and ferociously affirming our abiding faith and joy in our beautiful method. Even as the revelation of rot at our center devastated me, I was profoundly, sublimely uplifted by the Anusara community. I’ve never been prouder of us.

However, Anusara, Inc. is a sole proprietorship, and the hundreds of thousands of Anusara yogins worldwide can do nothing without the consent of the proprietor. John has demonstrated his unwillingness to take any meaningful responsibility for his actions or work with the community to effect real change.

I was Certified in Anusara yoga, and nothing can ever change that. However, I renounce my business association with Anusara, Inc.

To the original 23 Anusara yogins who stood together, and to the ten who have carried the heaviest burden: your fellowship meant the world to me, and your names are emblazoned on my heart.

With great love,

Emma