| Cougar Press PO Box 894 Meadview AZ 86444 |
| Where have I doneYoga? |
In nineteen sixty-seven I went to Newport Beach, California, with my friend Tom Leonard.
We had both dropped out of college after our first two years, but it was Spring break, and we
were looking for girls. Prosperous college students descended in droves on the ritzy little city in
Orange County. They rented pads, five or more to the address, for the duration of the week, only
to spend as little time as possible inside.
Vacationing scholars mixed and mingled on the beach and on Balboa Boulevard, cruising north
and south, checking each other out. Some of the rented pads had parties going on. The others
merely served as havens for sleep and sex.
Tom and I only drove up for the day. We lived about ninety miles south of Newport Beach, in
North San Diego County near Del Mar. We saw no need to go to the expense of renting ourselves
a room. Instead, we spent the day and the night wandering the sand and the street, panting like
stray dogs. Girls were everywhere. When we walked on the sidewalks of Balboa, they went by in
automobiles. When we got into our own car and joined the slow flowing throng, the girls were on
the sidewalks, laughing and waving and talking to the pedestrian guys.
We strolled along the promenade that separated the opulent beach shacks from the hot sand.
We walked on the hard, wet strip that separated the hot sand from the blue salt water. We
stopped at one point along the promenade to rest. We sat with our backs to the blank wall of a
curio shop, and we watched the girls go by. We watched the people go by.
Yoga had become an obsession for me. I was proud of my lotus posture, proud that I could do
it. I folded my legs with my feet on my thighs, and I rested my hands on my knees with the
sublime detachment of a master.
In a twinkling a semicircle of teenaged college students formed in front of me, sitting
crosslegged and waiting for the wisdom that was sure to drop like pearls from the lips of Surf
Yogi. Just because I could do the lotus posture, they all assumed that I had achieved cosmic
wisdom.
I have practiced hatha yoga inside my home, on the beach, in city parks, on a ship at sea, in
barracks, on construction sites, in backyards, in gymnasiums, in train stations and in the
wilderness.
We had both dropped out of college after our first two years, but it was Spring break, and we
were looking for girls. Prosperous college students descended in droves on the ritzy little city in
Orange County. They rented pads, five or more to the address, for the duration of the week, only
to spend as little time as possible inside.
Vacationing scholars mixed and mingled on the beach and on Balboa Boulevard, cruising north
and south, checking each other out. Some of the rented pads had parties going on. The others
merely served as havens for sleep and sex.
Tom and I only drove up for the day. We lived about ninety miles south of Newport Beach, in
North San Diego County near Del Mar. We saw no need to go to the expense of renting ourselves
a room. Instead, we spent the day and the night wandering the sand and the street, panting like
stray dogs. Girls were everywhere. When we walked on the sidewalks of Balboa, they went by in
automobiles. When we got into our own car and joined the slow flowing throng, the girls were on
the sidewalks, laughing and waving and talking to the pedestrian guys.
We strolled along the promenade that separated the opulent beach shacks from the hot sand.
We walked on the hard, wet strip that separated the hot sand from the blue salt water. We
stopped at one point along the promenade to rest. We sat with our backs to the blank wall of a
curio shop, and we watched the girls go by. We watched the people go by.
Yoga had become an obsession for me. I was proud of my lotus posture, proud that I could do
it. I folded my legs with my feet on my thighs, and I rested my hands on my knees with the
sublime detachment of a master.
In a twinkling a semicircle of teenaged college students formed in front of me, sitting
crosslegged and waiting for the wisdom that was sure to drop like pearls from the lips of Surf
Yogi. Just because I could do the lotus posture, they all assumed that I had achieved cosmic
wisdom.
I have practiced hatha yoga inside my home, on the beach, in city parks, on a ship at sea, in
barracks, on construction sites, in backyards, in gymnasiums, in train stations and in the
wilderness.
| Yoga for Carnivores by Jay Dyck |