The Real Gurus of America

Appointment TV...I fear...is the phrase I am looking for. It is hard to admit even owning a TV these days, let alone watching it. And don't get most people I love and respect started on the topic of reality TV. That lowbrow art form is the lowest of the low.

Hello. My name is Jessie and I am obsessed with Bethenny Frankel.

I made sure to be home by 8pm on Monday evening to catch the season finale of her hit television show Bethenny Ever After. If you don't know who Bethenny Frankel is then you must have missed the train wrecks called Real Housewives of New York City and Skating with the Stars. I'm not sure at what point in her reality starlet timeline Bethenny scored her own show, but last year the Bravo network's chronicle of 39-year-old Frankel, planning her wedding while pregnant with her first child, sucked me in. I immediately fell head-over-heels in love with her. I loved her so much I had to DVR her show so that I wouldn't miss a single moment of loving her and envying her urban fairytale existence.

I've known women like Bethenny in real life.  Women that exist in a space-time continuum where minutes are seconds. Women who pride themselves in being so god damn driven they don't need a partner, or friends, or any of the usual things women usually want. These women are typically very skinny and average about five sexual innuendos every fifteen minutes of conversation. Yep, I tend to be best friends with women like Bethenny, until we have some dramatic falling out and they never talk to me ever again. Women like Bethenny disown people a lot. Usually beginning with their alcoholic mothers, around age 26 when they can finally afford to go to therapy twice a week. Women like Bethenny are always in therapy. Did I mention Bethenny does yoga and is an acclaimed natural foods chef? Oh yes, more reasons to love her.

You see I love Bethenny because in many twisty ways (that I will rarely admit), Bethenny represents everything I want that I don't have. Her independent businesswoman rags to riches transformation is legitimately inspiring. In her mid-thirties Frankel had no money in her bank account and no baby daddies waiting for the perfect moment to drop a rock in the bottom of her champagne glass. Of course she was smokin' hot and had a cookbook on the New York Times bestseller list, so it is hard to believe that her two-year skyrocket to family life and millionairdom was really as remarkable as she makes it seem. Still, there is something sort of Cinderella about her rise to fame and fulfillment. Something that makes me think maybe I too could accomplish everything I'm kicking myself for having not accomplished before I turn 40. Bethenny turned 40 this year and threw herself a stylish party on episode #6 Fleeing form Forty.  She cried a lot on that episode. It was one of my favorites.

Bethenny and I have some things in common. Or, at least we did. We are both proud NYU alums. We both have small dogs we treat like children who bark all the time and bite deliverymen. We are both hyper expressive perfectionists and we are both interested in things like wellness and tequila.  It was this interest in tequila that Bethenny had the smarts to use to her advantage while I was merely drinking it. It happened in the middle of an episode of Real Housewives when Bethenny gave a waitress precise instructions as to how to make her margarita the mindful way and one of the housewives said, "That sounds good. I will have that too. It's like a skinnygirl margarita." For the record, I've always preferred silver tequila, refused to acknowledge margaritas that aren't made with fresh squeezed limejuice and I jumped on the agave syrup as only acceptable sweetener bandwagon while most folks were still enamored with Splenda.

Fast forward to the season finale on Monday evening and Bethenny is crying tears of joy over the offer she is accepting from a major distributor who wants to buy Skinnygirl Cocktails. An offer that is so big she can't disclose the numbers. An offer that will make her a very wealthy woman and go down as one of the biggest spirits deals in history. The Hollywood Reporter claims the price-tag was around 120 million. It was at this moment that Bethenny went from being merely a celebrity crush to guru status in my thirtysomething world. You see, I was disappointed that Bethenny's tears were the happy variety.

The commercials for the finale were edited expertly to make it seem as if something terrible was going to crash Ms. Frankel's party. Every time I saw the teaser, I wondered if perhaps Jason was finally sick of his wife flirting with her ice skating coach and was dumping her ass before they even made it to their first anniversary. Or, maybe her Canadian margarita factory exploded? It wasn't until I found out she was really crying because she was so thrilled about being filthy rich that I realized what a petty, jealous person I actually am.

There is this moment in Fierce Grace, the documentary about Ram Das after his stroke, where he confesses his revelation in the midst of confronting death. Affter all his years of being “Mr. Spiritual”, when it really mattered, everything he thought he understood about the universe gave way to fear. It was in that moment that he realized he still had quite a bit of work to do.

Apparently, so do I. I was actually disappointed by Bethenny's happiness. I wanted to see Bethenny fail. How awful is that? It certainly isn't very Christian, or very yogi, or very feminist, or very...good...at all. I was starting to hate her.

It wasn't just Bethenny's good fortune that was pissing me off. It was also her new book that was becoming fodder for my yogier-than-thou sense of superiority. During episode #10 Thin Ice and Ugly Sweaters, Bethenny embarks on a speaking tour to promote her new book, Place of Yes: 10 Rules for Everything You Want Out of Life. Really? Just like that Bethenny went from reality TV star, to margarita queen, to self-help guru? Before she was just lucky and beautiful, but now she's dispensing spiritual wisdom to crowds of adoring fans. She's sitting on stages in Pennsylvania saying the word "cock" as many times as she can and telling the women in the crowd all about Rule #1 Break the Chain: Surviving Childhood. I wonder if her therapist is getting a cut of the book sales?

So, why is it that I don't think Bethenny deserves to be a guru? Is it her pop culture notoriety and mainstream accessibility that disqualify her? The truth is it’s likely these very qualities that make her such a powerful teacher. Maybe her bite size morsels of wisdom seem shallow to me, but if she is making so many women feel better about themselves and more in control of their lives that's incredibly meaningful. Right?

In India gurus are celebrities. Their likenesses plastered on the side of ashram jeeps and boxes of branded sandlewood incense. Wilkipedia estimates the late Sai Baba’s followers to total more than 6 million. In America celebrity seems to be mutually exclusive with being a respected spiritual teacher. In fact, we seem to separate spirituality and popular culture all together.  Except when Oprah is concerned.

I’m not suggesting that Bethenny Frankel has achieved the saint like status of Amma or Osho. I am however suspicious of my own dismissal of what she has to offer because she’s just a TV star. Reality TV is a guilty pleasure, and it should be. But, how different is what we gleam from watching someone else’s’ life on the screen than what we learn from the experiences of those who achieve guru status? After all, isn’t most spiritual insight self-awareness? Perhaps reality TV gives us an opportunity to see ourselves in others and learn just a little bit about our shared human experience in the process.

I’m not sure what is next for my girl Bethenny. Will she return to another season on Bravo? Will she branch out and develop a low calorie all natural strawberry daiquiri? Will she continue her speaking tour and write another book?  Will she have a second baby post 40 and move to Malibu to live a very private life with Jason? I noticed she just launched a line of detox supplements on her website. Skinnygirl vitamins, the perfect companion to her Skinnygirl liquor empire. Yep, this is why I love Bethenny. She’s a walking contradiction. Kind of like me.

Well, whatever is next for Bethenny it will have to wait until after she battles the 100 million dollar lawsuit her former management team has brought against her. In People magazine today Bethenny commented, “Life is good for me with all the things that are most important, namely family, but let's be clear, I am a strong woman, and I am not afraid and won't back down when I'm bullied by something with zero merit. Success is earned by hard work, not taking advantage of others."

You go, guru girl. 

What I've learned about me and my peeps by reading the elephant journal...

10) There are a lot of effin’ yoga teachers in the world and we are all “certified instructors” and “self-proclaimed” something or others.

9) Everyone who practices yoga seems to have something terribly unyogi about them and the revelation of this dark flaw makes us all profoundly fascinating. 

8) I am likely not the only mixed up whakado who enjoys watching Top Chef marathons while fantasizing about kale chips on day six of the Master Cleanse.

7) There exists an entire subculture of geeks who deconstruct the yoga sutras with the same hyper intellectual zeal my college debate teammates argued about Foucault while stuck in traffic on the way home from brutal competitions where we got our ass kicked. Just like back then I find this super hot and this makes me a super dork.

6) Speaking of super hot, boys do yoga too.

5) I’m more inclined to click on posts with sexy titles than poetic titles just like I automatically dig around for the globs of cookie dough in my So Delicious coconut milk ice cream.

4) I should probably start composting, listening to Lady Gaga and grow up to be a Buddhist. 

3) Yoga journal cover models are the universal yogini metric for assessing our external imperfections so that we can proceed to accept them. Accepting our imperfections that is, we don’t seem to like the yoga journal cover models at all. 

2) Most everyone in the world is much cooler than I am and by cooler I mean smarter, funnier, more mindful and has been to India more times than me. I know this because they all have websites where they artfully self-promote all they have to offer and I don’t. 

1) Numbers and lists are quite popular. Thus my present use of the top ten format.

The Red Dress Experiment

 I wear too much black. This seems to seriously disturb my Mother. When we go shopping she tries to trick me into choosing items that are not black. It has taken me years to realize that even if I buy the new bright pink bathing suit, I will still resort to the old black one even though the elastic is giving and the straps always fall down. Black isn’t only about being skinnier. Black is sophisticated. Black is easy. Black can go anywhere and with anything. Black is the ultimate canvas for expressive accessories like giant orange hoops and polka dot scarves.

 I have never in my life worn a dress that was not black. Okay, I might be exaggerating.  I did get married once and as I recall I did wear the traditional white. Still, when it comes to professional events and special occasions I don't consider any options other than black. So, you can imagine my horror when just three days before a very big event I was in charge of  this past March, I tore open the package that arrived overnight express super expensive mail containing the dress I had ordered to wear on the most important night of my year and it was ... red. I double checked the packing slip and indeed the dress was supposed to be black. Still, there it was in my hands and it was very very red. Without even trying it on, I immediately began going through my closet to see what on earth I could rush to the dry cleaner and wear to the event since I did not have time to exchange this ridiculous rouge colored garment. It was only out of desperation that I decided to try on the red dress. To my surprise, it fit perfectly. So perfectly that I did wear the dress. It took a good amount of soul searching, public disclaimers, and the encouragement of my Mother. At the tender age of 36, I wore a red dress for the first time.  I never noticed how many people share my phobia of bold hues, until I was the one who looked like I'd been painted in technicolor against a sea of black and white. Would I have looked better in a more flattering black number? Likely. Yet, there was something very powerful about wearing red. An intoxicating sort of power that almost seemed to outweigh the looking as thin as I could factor.

This red dress effect was apparently not all in my head. It is generally accepted that different colors have different psychological impacts on both the wearer and those around her. Actors relax in “Green Rooms” before a performance because green has a tranquilizing effect. Red is a color of confidence, passion and power. A good color choice for those in a position of leadership.  So, it isn’t just a color for prostitutes and first ladies. Red is also associated with the root chakra and used in photodynamic therapy to eradicate cancer.


Yes, the red dress experiment of 2011 was a success. However, I would be lying if I said I don’t prefer black for the really important garments in life. Bathing suits and yoga pants.  I admit that I don’t ever wear those red side-tie capri pants I impulsively grabbed off the sale rack at a Bikram yoga studio because my tummy looks much bigger in them than the black fold over capris.  I hate the view of my tummy in the side mirrors during Virabhadrasana II.  I think I might be guilty of sacrificing the proper alignment of my hips to find a more flattering view.

Sivananda TTC Madurai 2005

Oh, I’ve tried to become more open minded in my yoga wardrobe. In fact, during my teacher training course (TTC) with the Sivananda folks in Madurai, India, I had to wear white pants for asana practice.  Yes, white drawstring pants. It was hard to believe at first. I mean everybody knows that yoga pants are black and stretchy and make your ass look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Despite this self-evident truth, as soon as I arrived for TTC I was issued two pairs of the silly white pants and two yellow t-shirts. Yes, I was one of them now. Uniform and all.

At TTC it didn’t seem so bad that I was wearing the white pants. Even when they were stained from red dirt and dingy from being worn every day. Everyone was wearing them. Everyone kind of looked the same. By the second week I stopped noticing how tall and lean all the European chicks seemed to be. I also discovered that relaxed fitting drawstring pants are quite practical for asana practice. They stay planted firmly at your natural waist and don’t require tugging after a few rounds of Surya Namaskar.  It was an exciting day when the dohbi wallah came back with parcels of clean white pants, even brighter white than they began, extra crisp, folded perfectly.

Still, I wondered why the colors were so important. I understood the value in the uniform. I even appreciated the concern for modesty in the spiritual community. I was unsure why the shirts had to be an unforgiving shade of yellow.  Swami Govinda was happy to offer an explanation. Turns out that like much of the “no onions, no garlic!” ashram life, the yellow and white dress code was about cultivating good energy by being mindful of to the three gunas, or the primary forces of creation. According to yogic philosophy, everything is made up of these three forces in different proportions: Raja, Sattva and Tamas. Sattva being the purest essence; raja being the most agitated; and, tamas being the darkest. The music you listen too, food you eat, company you keep, thoughts you indulge and yes colors you surround yourself in can all be classified as being predominantly one of the three forces of nature. Naturally, it seems healthiest to accumulate boatloads of sattvic things. White and yellow are the most sattvic colors. My beloved black the most tamasic. Bummer. Furthermore, it seems yellow is associated with learning and therefore a student will excel when wearing, seeing, being yellow.  Okay, I could accept that. Swami Govinda also said that having sex disturbed the pranic forces in the body so much that it wasn’t even worth practicing asanas within twenty-four hours of getting it on. Now, I was pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well at the shiny yoga studios back in the States. Neither would the baggy white pants. Practical, or not.

Those two pairs of white pants traveled with me all over South India. They even made it through ATTC (that’s Sivananda speak for “Advanced Teacher Training”) at Neyarr Dam. When I got home I folded them nicely and put them away in a trunk of special things, where I hold on to everything that is most valuable to me. They were stained, torn and ill-fitting but the truth was I adored them. It took me awhile to get used to wearing regular clothes in the regular world again. 

The red dress is hanging in my closet. Ready for another occasion to transform my psychology through  the power of color. I may not be completely reformed, in fact I just bought two new pairs of black capri yoga pants. But, I am thinking more about the power of color as it relates to my mood, my job and my practice. Ultimately, what we wear on a first date or to a vinyasa class should be whatever makes us feel most comfortable in our own skin. If that is something black and slinky then so be it. What concerns me about my color choices is not the colors themselves but the fact that I tend to make choices based on how I look instead of how I feel.  Wearing the red dress made me aware of this phenomenon. You know what they say,  the first step is admitting you have a problem.

I’m seriously considering a turquoise swimsuit…

Shirshasana for Dummies (That's headstand to you!)

I blame my Granny for turning me into a yogi. She filled my Easter baskets with carob bunnies when I was nine, taught me that all gods were one at Unitarian Sunday School, and she sent me video tapes of Yoga Zone programs she had recorded from television when I was in graduate school. Aside from the fact that I signed-up for the basketball team in sixth grade (so we would have six players and be able to actually field a team), I was never exceptionally athletic. Despite the fact that I did not take gymnastics when I was a toddler, or find my bliss running cross-country as a teenager, I was surprisingly "good" at yoga. When I finally got up the nerve to go to an actual yoga class at the YMCA, I found that I was actually "better" than most people at this turn yourself into a pretzel stuff. I naturally found depth in my forward bend and arriving in full wheel was relatively easy after a few tries. 

Swami Vishnu Devananda teaching shirshasana

Yep, I had the yoga thing under control. Until I found myself unemployed, in the midst of a divorce and landed at a yoga ashram in upstate New York. I felt like I had arrived in a foreign country. I didn’t bring appropriate clothes, I couldn’t understand anyone’s name because everyone seemed to be named Das something or other, and the first time they started singing Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna, Krishna Hare Hare I almost bolted out the door and ran all the way back to the city. As weird as this ashram scene was there wasn’t much waiting for me back home, so I decided to hang out for a few days.  I couldn’t wait for the real yoga to start.  I enthusiastically unrolled my hibiscus print mat in the very first row for asana class in the morning. The sun salutations were a little different than I was used to but I adapted quickly, confident I was  astonishing my new teacher with my natural flexibility. And then something happened that terrified me. With the simple cue “sirshasana” all of my fellow practitioners effortlessly pushed from child’s pose into beautiful headstands all around me. Clearly, I had coincidentally arrived at the ashram on the same day as the cast of Cirque De Soleil. I mean, standing on your head isn’t something normal people like me can do. The instructor smiled and approached me calmly. He sat down next to me and began to show me the steps for mastering headstand. I did not move, mesmerized by the serenity of these great yogis turned upside down. He suggested I build strength in dolphin pose and I whole heartedly agreed. Before walking back to front of the room he whispered , “Tomorrow we will try the headstand”.  


 I couldn’t believe that this man thought that I could actually stand on my head. Did he not realize I was the girl who always got picked last while choosing teams in gym class? "No" did not seem to be an acceptable answer to my teacher, Raj. So, I tried. For two weeks. Each day getting a little stronger and a little closer. After just a week I could hold the posture with a bit of assistance and by day ten Raj insisted that he wasn’t actually giving me any support at all, just barely touching my ankles to make me feel safe. “It’s all in your mind,” he assured me.  I wanted nothing more than to achieve my perfect solo headstand before I went home.  But on the last day of asana class, despite all of my efforts and Raj’s unwavering faith, I still could not stand on my head.  

Me & Granny the summer I learned to stand on my head
Photo: Kathy Callwell

 Soon after my stay at the ashram, I decided to visit my Granny. She was having fainting spells and needed someone to drive her to doctor’s appointments until they found the cause. I couldn’t wait to show her all of the new poses I had learned at the ashram. She was especially in awe of crow pose and she made me feel like a superstar every time she saw me taking flight in her living room. There was this funky patchwork carpet in Granny’s living room, which had been there as long as I could remember, and it offered all the support I needed. I wasn’t even afraid to fall and each day I would attempt sirshasana.  For weeks I thought, “Any day now…” until finally I stopped even thinking that I would someday arrive upside down. It became a ritual and each day Granny would tell me I was getting closer. I was no longer concerned. It wasn’t that I had given up, but me mastering headstand had become somewhat of a crazy fantasy akin to winning the lottery.  I’m not sure what the final adjustment was that made the difference between falling or defying gravity but it happened without warning one afternoon. After months of trying, I lifted both legs and stayed upside down long enough for Granny to look up from the newspaper and witness my achievement. 

Years later I’m the ashram again.  I’m frustrated with myself because I can’t hold my headstand for five full minutes and every day I practice transitioning from headstand to scorpion. I am so close I can see it in my mind’s eye but still I can’t quite master virkshasana. After the afternoon asana class I’m refilling my water bottle and a woman comes up to me and says, “Your headstand is so amazing. So strong and steady. I hope I can do that someday!”

Granny aka PanPipes
Photo: Jessie Clark

It’s hard to define the subtle space between not being able to do something and doing something but somehow if you just keep trying every day it happens. Whenever anything in my life seems impossible I remember how I felt that first morning at the ashram and how I really thought there was no way on earth I could ever stand on my head. It wasn’t easy and it took longer than it does for most, but I did it. If I can stand on my head, I can do anything.


And so can you. And your Granny too. And probably her Granny too ... (Unless of course you have glaucoma, high or low blood pressure, or are with child and don't already have a headstand practice. Some yogis prefer not to invert while on their moon cycle) Just follow these simple steps to achieving shirshasana, as taught in the Sivananda tradition, from www.sivananda.org:

STEP 1 - ARMS AND HANDS

Sit up on your heels, then catch hold of both your elbows with the opposite hands. Lean forward and lay your forearms on the ground, directly beneath your shoulders. Let go of your elbows, and clasp your hands together. Be sure not move your arms once you have found the proper placement, going through this step allows you to find the perfect position for your arms in relation to your body frame.

STEP 2 - HEAD DOWN

With your arms in the tripod position, above right, lower your head so that the top of your skull touches the ground and the back of it is cradled in your hands. The part of your head that is touching should be about the place where a headband would sit, or the soft spot of your head when you were a baby. Do not make any abrupt movements. Take the next steps slowly.

STEP 3 - ON YOUR TOES

From the crouched position with your head resting in your hands, straighten your knees and push your hips up above your head. Then, keeping your legs straight, stretch up high on your toes.

STEP 4 - HALF HEADSTAND

Now bend your knees, bringing them to your chest. Arch your back slightly, as you do when standing up; this will enable you to balance your body in this position. Do not proceed unless you can hold this position for at least 30 seconds without feeling any discomfort.

STEP 5 - KNEES UP

With your knees still bent, start to straighten your hips. Slowly and carefully, raise your knees until they are pointing straight up toward the ceiling.

STEP 6 - ALL THE WAY

Straighten you knees and lift your feet up toward the ceiling. Support your weight by bracing your elbows against the ground. At first, hold the Headstand for 30 seconds; as you become more skilled at adopting this pose, gradually increase the time to 3 minutes. Always come down before you start to feel tired. Leave the pose slowly and under control (see below). Head in Hands: Rest the back of your head against your hands. Relax, breathing through your nose.

COMING OUT

You should leave this Asana as carefully as you entered it. Do not move jerkily or quickly, or you may lose control and fall.

• Bend your knees and lower them.
• Straighten your legs. Bring your feet to the ground, and then lower your knees.
• Lower your body so that your buttocks rest on your heels as in the Child's Pose.
• Finally, relax your hands and return to the full Child's Pose.
• Do not lift your head up straight away. Rest for at least a minute.
• Relax in the Corpse before continuing