Tuesday, 25 February 2014

Do you have Ex-girlfriend Syndrome?

Back in my yoga teaching days I used to keep a journal specifically for my class. I'd write down anything from sequencing to heart theme, to alignment focus, and to self reminders such as "don't look at that woman who wears white spandex to a yoga class"... my journal was full of gems like that. Since I retired from teaching yoga, my journal was swept under the door mat like an ex-girlfriend. And like an ex-girlfriend, my journal shows up every now and then just to remind me of that period of my life.

Rewind so slightly...

Uncle Bob wasn't my real uncle. He was actually my friend's friend's uncle. I don't even know how it started but it did: he would visit us from Toronto in the summer and we'd all go for brunch with him. He was a frail little man who was full of sparks. He always ordered a glass of white wine with his breakfast which was always barely touched. It was a running joke in our annual outing.

Uncle Bob's health deteriorated in the following years, to a point where he could no longer fly because he needed an oxygen tank to breath. So my friend and I would meet for brunch with Uncle Bob's family here, and we'd literally talk and joke with him via Skype.

2011 February 28 was Uncle Bob's 80th birthday. It was also the same week of the 3A Yoga Inc. advanced intensive in Miami.

Oh shit! I mean, I really wanted to go to that advanced intensive thingy and study with the asshole guru John Sans Testicles. AND the host was none other than the princess of tasteless Crusty Nono Myass. Like seriously! How auspicious would that be, the asshole guru and the princess of tasteless in the same room!

I didn't have to make a Sophie's choice because there was only one option: I'd go to both. 

Make the choice that allows you to say "I'm glad I did", instead of "I wish I did". That's my motto. Too often you are given only one chance. Miss it and regret it.

The trip to visit Uncle Bob in Toronto did cost me extra arms and legs, but at the end it was worth it. Uncle Bob passed away shortly after. I'm glad I was part of his 80th birthday celebration.

In case you wonder, the trip to Miami turned out to be that epic trip with a local yoga teacher Miss No-forehead. You can read about it here. WARNING: I had some unkind words to say about Miss No-forehead. Some yogis are just assholes.

Fast forward...

It's been two years since the meltdown of 3A Yoga Inc. As expected the ex-girlfriends and the Vital coven angels are coming out of yin yang to make their PR rounds, and to remind the world what a bunch of boorish classy ladies they are. The asshole guru named John Sans Testicles also did an interview with some online site that nobody gives a shit about. He auspiciously told us how great his newly avant garde yoga system thing is, his bastard child 3A Yoga Inc. is really old news, his addiction to drugs and anal beads is nobody's business, it wasn't his fault that those women forced their vaginas onto him... he literally dumped 3A Yoga Inc. like he dumped the princess of tasteless Crusty Nono Myass. Ironically, Crusty is now the champion of 3A Yoga Inc, oh that poor thing...

These people are still loud and repulsive, but nobody seems to look their way any more. They have become day-old bread, a cup of lukewarm coffee filled with cigarette butts, or that dried up piece of parsley left on the dinner plate in a truck stop diner.

Fast forward...

I now have a new understanding of the power of now, thanks to that bunch of absurd, sordid and rancid has-been.

They suffer from what I call the Ex-Girlfriend Syndrome. Of course, none of that sexism thingy here, it's just a figure of speech. We all know men can act like ex-girlfriends. By ex-girlfriends I don't mean the type that has peacefully agreed to end the relationship. I'm talking about the kind that got dumped and is full of bitterness and resentment. I suppose I could say they have Aparagraha or (non)clinging issues, but don't you think the image of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction is more potent? But I digress...

We are all susceptible to ex-girlfriend syndrome. We get it when we are no longer in the now while refusing to let go. Let's face it, nobody likes getting dumped. Clinging on to the past gives us a sense of relevance. Reminiscing the past isn't a bad thing, shit, even these days I still think about my glory days as Jeff Stryker's body double. I am who I am today because of my past, but my past does not define who I am today.

Fast forward a little more...

That bunch of absurd, sordid and rancid has-been is just sad to look at now.

The princess of tasteless still relentlessly tries to remind everyone what a chirpy happy person she is, and to give invalid advice on anger management. But the very sad fact is: nobody cares. Think the level of irrelevance below "nobody gives a shit"... yeah, that really low level... she is at the level below that... simmering in her own resentful juice which in spite of her previous glorious days as her ex-employer's squeeze toy, she has become a has-been.

Her ex-employer, none other than John Sans Testicles, also suffers from ex-girlfriend syndrome. Every now and then he'd put out some media release to get people's attention, and to remind us he once was somebody relevant. He'd even throw his own bastard child 3A Yoga Inc. under the bus just to get some press.  John Sans Testicle has become that angry, bitter ex-girlfriend who indefatigably shows up on occasions, uninvited, repeatedly, like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, desperately to tell us what a divine being he is, and what a mistake we've made.

Sadly, regardless of their loud grandstanding with ponies and clowns, nobody looks. They are no longer in the now. They are wannabes at best. Whatever "good" qualities they think they possess are irrelevant: we are fresh out of fucks to give. It's beyond depressing that even though they scream and run around naked with bearskin rugs and jars of pubes, nobody seems to care any more.

When your relevance lived in the past, you belong to a museum.

We may be relevant yesterday but we could be outdated today. Everything has an expiry date. Our work is not only to take the chance NOW, but to also STAY in the NOW. Our eyes are in the front because we are supposed to look forward. How to move forward or handle the baggage we bring with... well, that's a different conversation.

For the rest, whether for or against John Sans Testicles and his coven angels, they have seemingly already moved on. It's time. But be sure we'll hear from the absurd, sordid, rancid has-beens again. They are now the dingleberries in yoga that no amount of toilet paper can get rid of. 

For me, I'll continue to be Sarcastic Yogi. You can count on it.

Be in the now. Stay relevant. Don't be a dingleberry or a bitter ex-girlfriend. 


Saturday, 1 February 2014

I am saying NO to 2014 winter Olympics in Russia

I will NOT support or watch the 2014 winter Olympics, which is hosted by the asshole Vladimir Putin government in Russia, and this is why:

Best wishes to the athletes though! Have a great game and a safe trip! If you have the chance, please respectfully tell Vladimir Putin that he's an ignorant, self-hating, likely a closeted homophobic homosexual diva princess... respectfully, please.

Thursday, 2 January 2014

Clairvoyance of reality: do you see what I see?

At the time of writing, that annoying thing called Christmas was still going on. But I am no Grinch! First of all, I wish I were a mean or lean one like Grinch. Second, I do not have disorderly eyebrows like he does. Third and most importantly, I don't sneak around people's houses without my pants. Seriously, why doesn't Grinch ever wear pants, even when he dresses as Satan Santa? Imagine sitting on the lap of a fat bearded guy who has no pants on, and he tells you that you've been naughty... that's just a little too kinky.

And to further prove that I'm not some skinny green man with no pants on, I will lovingly start this blog with a quote of a song generally perceived as about the birth of Jesus:
"Said the night wind to the little lamb 
Do you see what I see? 
Way up in the sky little lamb 
Do you see what I see? 
A star, a star dancing in the night 
With a tail as big as a kite" - Noël Regney

Seriously, you have to be on acid to think that you're the night wind and ask a lamb if it sees what you see. A kite as big as the tail a comet? That's just trippy. And unless you're high on something, who would fly a kite in the middle of the night while talking to a lamb?

The reality is: this song is about LSD. I can only speculate why people want to do LSD around Christmas time.

Rewind a whole bunch...

I joined a mentoring program at work a while back. I asked my mentor to give me constructive feedback without sugarcoating, and boy oh boy did he ever. He even picked on my clothes because I dressed "too casual" for work. Before I unleashed the sarcastic beast on his bitch ass, he explained that perception was everything. I should be cognizant of others' perception because their perception becomes their reality.

Instead of making fun of his choice of wearing white sports socks with ugly black shoes, I decided to do a little experiment and teach him a lesson later on the detrimental results of making fun of my avant garde fashion sense.

I bought a bunch of shirts, pants and skirts for business women from Victoria's Secret. Oh, I bought some power suits, too, designed for business women of course. I began dressing like a sexy, sophisticated, serious, strong business woman... I think I was actually reenacting the movie "Romy and Michele's High School Reunion", or perhaps I was trying to imitate Karen Walker from "Will and Grace"... anyway, I noticed the tone of my cowokers' voices began to change. They also responded to my emails faster. When I needed something done, they never missed a deadline. My new look as a sexy, sophisticated, serious, strong business woman seemingly had made an impact on my coworkers.

Note to self: I need to get more miniskirts and blazers with huge shoulder pads.

Sarcastic Yogi in his wondrously sexy, sophisticated, serious, strong business woman attire

Fast forward a little...

Wednesday, 18 December 2013

The C in Christmas: Santa comes more than once a year

It's been a while. I know. My asana practice has been scaled back to an all time low so my recent inspiration has been heavy on sarcasm but light on yoga (pun intended). It was partly because of the many piles of fecal matter dropped in the yoga community in the last few years. Google these words to find out more: john friend bikram lululemon yoga scandal

But don't worry, I plan on making a comeback in the yoga world next year. Yeah, bitches!

Anyway, this blog is brought to you by my latest Facebook profile photo:
Not sure how it happened but it did: I update my Facebook profile photo on an almost-daily basis. It is meant to be funny and provoke conversations at the same time. If you are one of the three followers of my blog, you will have seen my collections of Jesus and bacon art photos.

Fast forward a little...

There are many reasons why I am not a fan of this thing called "Christmas".

Obviously it's not really about the birth of Jesus. Trust me, Jesus and I have talked about it many times and we couldn't figure out the exact date of his birthday, particularly because we're not sure if we count twelve days of Christmas as twelve or as one. I mean, on the eighth day we have eight maids a-milking. Eight! That's sixteen breasts, seventeen if one of them came from Chernobyl. Goodness gracious me, that's a lot of breast milk! Oh, I can't wait for the eleventh day of Christmas while eleven pipers a-piping... that's gonna be one hell of an orgy.

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

Light on Sarcastic Yoga

Yes, I know. It's been a while since I posted a blog. A lot of yoga drama to be had in the last little while, I mean steamy stinky scandalous shit. Then I began a 28-day fitness challenge which distracted me from my usual yoga practice. It's not a bad thing though, because it felt like I needed a break from yoga, if that's even possible. I do miss the good ol’ days of yoga when it simply involved asana practice, kirtan and unassuming philosophy discussions, and none of the ridiculous drama, gold digging hidden agenda, or sex scandals.

Rewind a little...

There's a ton of goodness in the yoga world, so don't get your panties in a bunch and say "oh, you are just mean and negative". But the steamy stinky scandalous shit can't be simply ignored. Speaking of steamy stinky shit, once again I was honoured to have the opportunity to exchange blessings with Crusty Nono Myass, who did a great job in representing steamy stinky shit. Her high horse is seriously dead and she really needs to get off it. It's no longer fun to make fun of her. I hope she gets help for her obvious anger and self-hate problems.

Fast forward a bit...

Two big piles of steamy fecal matter were dropped in the western yoga world recently. There were a few more piles dropped elsewhere, but my plate is just not big enough for so much chocolate pudding.

Bikram Choudhury, the founder of Bikram yoga, was once again getting sued for failing to keep his little Dickram in his short shorts. You can find out more here. This isn't the first time his little Dickram got him into some hot water and will unlikely be the last. I'll say this though: this guy is a serious douchebag.

Another pile of steamy fecal matter was excreted by YogaGlo. In the name of "I own this shit", YogaGlo attempted to obtain a patent on the placement of a camera in an online yoga class and tried to shut down any online yoga class that put the camera in the back of the classroom. They even tried to stop any patent application to have "glo" in the applicant's name, like "Globox" which is a DVD rental company, or "Glow Hockey" which is a game on mobile devices. A few notes to self:
  • Cancel YogaGlo subscription. I cannot support its non-sense bullying tactic to snub out competitions because it goes against all teachings of yoga.
  • Sign the petition to stop YogaGlo's bullshit here.
  • Get patents on these words: yoga, om, Surya Namaskar, namaste.
  • Get patent on placement of toilet paper within 2 feet of any toilet bowl. If YogaGlo can get a patent on where to put a camera in a classroom, why can't I get a patent on where to put your shit tickets? Imagine you have to get a license to put toilet paper within 2 feet of your toilet bowl. Every time you wipe, I become richer. 
In case you wonder, the long-standing pile of tired old fecal matter called John Sans Testicles is still churning out load after load of poop with his coven angels and pole dancers. But that's nothing you don't already know.

Fast forward...

Are you ready? *drum roll*... this is Chapter 1 of the teacher training manual of Sarcastic Hatha Institute of Tantrika Yoga or S.H.I.T. Yoga! Yup, y'all been voluntarily enrolled in the most beautifulest transformatively avant garde hatha yoga system paradigm... just kidding.

Thursday, 22 August 2013

Best of my Facebook profile pictures: Jesus, dino and other awesome stuff edition

Y'all know Jesus is awesome! Thanks to those Creationism folks like Kirk Cameron, whose drag name is Anita Dayly Bukkake, for their unconditionally selfless non-stop divine immaculate inspiration, I present to you another Best of my Facebook profile pictures, the Jesus, dino and other awesome stuff edition!

Y'all welcome!

Jesus riding his favourite teacup T-Rex, allegedly created by Leonardo DiCaprio da Vinci! 
The epic battle between Jesus and the evil unicorns, this is also the real story behind the seriously marvellous Avengers.
Check out my badass tats! Team Jesus and teacup T-Rex FTW, bitches!
Jesus makes love, not war, with a unicorn. 
Jesus living everyone's fantasy: doing it with twins!
This is like total Sridaiva!

Thursday, 15 August 2013

It takes three to tango: knowledge, truth and lie

[DISCLAIMER: this blog will likely be more thought-provoking and philosophical than you expect. Be warned. And yup, these are all my very own random and unsexy thoughts. If you don't agree with them, bite me.]

Give 'em the old Razzle Dazzle 
Razzle dazzle 'em 
Show 'em the first rate sorcerer you are 
Long as you keep 'em way off balance 
How can they spot you've got no talents? 
Razzle Dazzle 'em - Billy Flynn

When I started this blog, there were (and still are) many wars of epic proportion. The people of Egypt are passionately fighting over what democracy really is. Then there's the acquittal of George Zimmerman in the Trayvon Martin case which is one of the most divisive cases in the American history. And the object of my stalking affection J engaged in a debate on Facebook with some douchebag named Mike over addiction and suffering. I have not met either of them. J is yummy so naturally I am on his side. Mike is a douchebag because he literally emptied the content of his own douche bag when he couldn't keep up with the argument. Perhaps Mike should change his last name to Hunt... just a thought. Speaking of douchebag, there was my very own "exchange of blessings" with none other than Crusty Nono Myass. It ended with me calling out her snake oil salesman dirty tricks and her trying to twirl her way out of the fact that she slept with her employer. You know what, it ain't beautiful or auspicious or a blessing to sleep with your boss, especially when the (female) employee is 30 and the (male) employer is 44 while not entirely single. It! Is! Not! Okay!

So there, I said it! For all of you bitches! You are welcome! But I digress...

How about a story? It goes something like this:

A group of blind men was asked by the king to determine what an elephant looked like. The first one touched its ear and claimed an elephant looked a fan. The second one touched its leg and claimed an elephant looked a pillar. The third one touched its tusk and claimed an elephant looked like a dildo... so on and so forth... the blind men began arguing and tried to sodomize each other to validate his perceived truth... well, you get the gist of the story. It's an oldie but a goodie like VHS or Joan Rivers.

You know what, Ganesha, a well known Hindu deity who looks like a dude with an elephant head, is a symbol of knowledge and removal of obstacles, go figure... but I digress again... hmm... I really have a digression problem. May be I was born a digresser, but I digress... arggh! Dang it!

Anyway...we love to argue. We love to prove the other side wrong. We love to put each other down, although the thoughts may not manifest into actions. We, unfortunately, love to tell stories based on a mixture of knowledge, truth and lie, which the purposes of telling these stories can be good, evil and everything in between. I think it is our innate nature to prove our dominance over [insert subject] by doing all kinds of queer stuff: winning an argument, demo-ing a crazy ass yoga pose, singing louder than the rest of the choir, toppling a government, having the most dramatic personal catastrophe, killing innocent people, collecting pubes from your coven angels, etc. Or perhaps "proving" our dominance over [insert subject] means survival and I suppose it is not a bad thing... like if I can own a bad situation, I may turn out okay.

For whatever reasons, we... and that's a collective WE, meaning myself included... all seek approval and acknowledgement from some perceived authority. I did share my 2.5 cents in one of my previous blogs, but of course it runs much deeper than just the discussion of the role of a "teacher".

So how about this: I am here (on this earth) for a reason. It is the bare minimum answer to the question "why am I here?". Most of us probably do not have a definitive reason to "why am I here?", but our instincts tell us "since I am here, I must have a definitive reason to be here". We, therefore, do all those peculiar things to establish and validate our own "self" based on what we "know", i.e. our knowledge.

Here's the first act of this mad dance of three-way tango: we establish "stuff" to validate our own "self", and validate "stuff" to establish our own "self".

To establish/validate our own stuff/self, we consciously and subconsciously:
- seek approval and acknowledgement from some perceived authority, e.g. a teacher or a newspaper.
- seek approval and acknowledgement from our peers, e.g. friends or members of interest groups who are supposedly significant in our self worth and identity.
- seek approval and acknowledgement from ourselves. We are our worst critics.

Yes, I am going somewhere with this crazy philosophical dildo. So re-apply lubricant and continue...

...we always (consciously and subconsciously) try to prove the dominance of our knowledge over others'... because that somehow validates and establishes our own "self" and "stuff". In this story the proof of dominance comes in the form of "winning an argument", and it may shed some light on the question "why am I here?". In other words, "I am here for a reason. I won an argument. That might be indicative of the reason of me being here"... or something like that.

... so the blind men began arguing with each other:
"Bitch, an elephant looks like pillar!"
"An elephant looks like a dildo, you asshole!"
"Your mother hates you. I win!"

You get the picture.

Here's the deal: never put an equal sign between "knowledge" and "truth" because they are not the same thing. "We know something" is not "we know everything". What you know may very well be half truth. Preaching (i.e. proving the dominance of our knowledge over others') based on half truth is dangerous. Some of my favourite objects of affection are those organized religions nutjobs like the members of the Westboro Baptist Church. They go all out to preach what they believe to be the truth based on what they know. Yet these  half truths (at best) were also created by the same people who thought the earth was flat. They had unforgiving conviction in what they knew: the earth was flat. In their eyes, that was the whole and only truth because that's what they knew. Anyone who dared question the false truth (what an oxymoron) either got barbequed or were simply chopped to pieces.

Basically, these religious nuts are saying "my knowledge of the partial truth is the whole truth and it is truer than yours, therefore I am denying your knowledge of your truth". They are not about inclusion of differences but denial of others rights, because the "different" people don't fit into their half truth and contradict what they know. How lovely.

Rewind a bit, and perhaps this is a good time to read the disclaimer again...

Nobody knows when we began to drizzle truth with honey or present half truth as the whole truth. In court, someone who's been found "not guilty" is not necessarily "innocent".