I knew nothing about yoga other than it seems to involve some stretching and some people love it. In anticipation for whatever exercise I might be subjected to, I had dressed sensibly; tracksuit bottoms, training shoes, and a simple T-shirt. I even had the foresight to come with a bottle of water. I was ready to whatever unexpected activities the evening had in store for me.
At the front of the room, I saw a photograph of what I took to be our ‘yogi’. She was a severe looking woman of about sixty with big eyes and long hair. Next to her picture was a flickering candle. The room was also filled with a strong smell of incense. There was also a PowerPoint presentation. These things; the picture, the incense and the PowerPoint all reassured me that I was obviously in the right place.
My journey to Ealing had already been enlightening. At the train station, I sat down next to a man who was wearing a pink cat suit, a purple jacket and a green cowboy hat. We were both heading in the opposite direction of the commuters; the station was empty.
‘The work of a wife is never done, is it?’ he said loudly, smiling. ‘There’s cooking, cleaning – all those chores; it never ends!’
‘I know what you mean’, I replied, wondering where this conversation was going to go. ‘I’ve been busy hoovering today’
‘Ah, yes, hoovering…. You can’t escape hoovering, can you? Where are you going, may I ask? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to… I mean, it’s nice to chat, isn’t it? I mean, chatting helps you to get a connection with someone, don’t you think?’ He laughed.
‘I’m going to yoga in Ealing.’
Our train to Charing Cross station arrived. We sat together and continued to chat.
‘Ealing? That’s a long way!’ he exclaimed, laughing. He was right. I had a train ride and two tube trains ahead of me – it was touch and go as to whether I would get there in an hour. ‘I’ve often wondered about yoga. I’ve heard it’s good for your joints. I’ve got arthritis in one of my knees’, he rubbed his knee. ‘I’m going to a sex club. I’m a bit stressed at the moment; I don’t get there very often but I’ll be okay as soon as I get there. Everyone gets naked, you see. I’ll get more relaxed when I get naked.’
I was mildly lost for words. ‘Is that, erm, in Soho?’ I had no idea about how to make small talk about sex clubs.
‘Yes! Well, it’s close to Soho, not exactly in Soho. You get all kinds of people there, some porn stars go there – they can’t get enough of it! I used to go to this other place, which was like, an S&M place, where people get whipped, you know? They love it! It’s sooo strange.’
I was again lost for words.
His name was Ade and his parents were from Nigeria. He lived in a couple of streets away from me.
‘Fuck! I’ve forgotten my Viagra!’ Ade suddenly exclaimed. He frantically rummaged through his bag, just as the train approached its destination. ‘Honestly, my room is such a mess; I can’t find anything! I’m such a hoarder, you see’. Ade then took a slug from a whisky apple and beetroot juice cocktail he was carrying.
At the end of our short journey, Ade complemented my skin, and kissed my hand before power walking towards the ticket barriers, where he had to chat up the train barrier attendant to persuade them to let him through (since he didn’t have a ticket).
Three quarters of an hour later, I arrived at my destination.
The ‘introduction to yoga’ PowerPoint slide was brief. It had five points: an introduction to meditation, ‘self-realisation to achieve a spontaneous meditative state’, how to meditate at home, how to clear left and right channels, and finally, a foot soak with accompanying mantras’.
The evening was facilitated by a woman, who was clearly the lead yoga teacher, and a man called Nick, who drove the PowerPoint projector and made sure that the teacher’s microphone was working.
‘Kundalini is a being that we’re not aware of, it’s a mother force and its centre is at the bottom of the spine. The energy from the kundalini awakening can move through different energy centres, which are the chakras. When it is awakened, the energy that is released feels like a cool breeze.’
I looked around. There were around twenty people who were listening very intently. I also saw that a couple of windows were open.
‘Yoga is a spiritual journey that connects us to nature. We can learn how to harness the energy that is coming from around us, and within us. We’re able to judge everything on the vibrations that we harness, and through a free four week course we’re able to share our awakening with others. This helps us to be more aware of our chakras and you’ll be able to move energy around between different centres’
We were then told to take off our shoes, since our feet apparently contained some important chakras. Nick was then asked to play a video recording of the great yogi. The recording was a part of a course that was held in New York. The clip was proclaiming the advantages of her particular type of yoga.
‘You can be more creative, you become freer to do new things, and you can more readily pass your exams’. There were further claims. Learning the knowledge of the kundalini can apparently lead to joy. By being able to receive vibrations, you learn how to reduce quarrels with partners and family, and there is also the potential that this new knowledge, if shared, can lead to a new society. The claims were coming thick and fast: the techniques were said to help with cataracts, and that the yogi has saved the life of a dying woman.
During the video, we were encouraged to try some yoga meditation. We were told that we need to keep a couple of things in mind; we needed to forgive ourselves, not to feel guilty about anything, and forgive everyone – the idea is to be ‘at peace’. This, for me, was a massive ask. I certainly wasn’t in any mood to forgive my ex-wife. Even though I was seriously worried of the claims that surrounded the kundalini awakening, perhaps this was the point that I needed to take from this bizarre evening; that perhaps I ought to think about not being so grumpy about being ripped off.
The teaching continued. Apparently there are seven seats of chakras on the top of our head, and the centre of pure knowledge is in our lower abdomen. We were encouraged to move our hands and rub our head in a clockwise direction, and to ask the phrase, ‘mother, am I your spirit?’ This was followed by another phrase: ‘mother, I am my own master’. (We were then told that ‘divine is the ocean of bliss, knowledge and forgiveness’, none of which I understood in the slightest). Two further phrases: ‘mother, I’m not guilty at all’ (a phrase which I’m pretty sure I’ve used on more than one occasion), and ‘mother, I forgive everyone’. We then put our head on our scalp, and said, ‘I cannot take your freedom from you’.
‘Who felt the cool breeze coming out of your head? Please raise your hands’.
I looked around and I was astonished to see that a third of the participants had raised their hands, but then I remembered the open windows.
The next bit of the session comprised of further PowerPoint slides that showed nonsense anatomical diagrams to explain the ‘link’ between the body and our chakras. This was followed by some talk about how you can begin to learn about how to balance out your left and right channels (which connect these different chakras together). A good way to sort out one of your right channel is to meditate whilst having a good old foot soak.
The foot soak was, I have to admit, the highlight of the evening. There were about fifteen bowls of water that another helper had prepared. When our teacher mentioned their availability, there was a mild scramble for the bowls.
‘Would you like one?’ an elderly lady asked.
Sadly, it was too late. They had all been taken by energetic meditators. The second helper went around everyone and added a tablespoon of cooking salt to each bowl, and dished out paper towels. Eventually, everyone settled down to do some meditation practice.
Our teacher offered us some guidance: ‘everyone, raise your left hand. Now put it on the right side of your stomach; that’s where your liver is’. Minutes earlier we were told that the function of the liver was to absorb heat (which fundamentally challenged my naïve understanding that it produced bile, purified the blood and generated enzymes).
After the excitement of the foot soak, we were given candles for a bit of ‘candle practice’. The ‘fire and light’ elements (which are certainly not ‘elements’, according to my high school chemistry classes) can be used to clear our left channel. We were also told that we can make things a whole lot worse for ourselves if we use the power of the candle on our right channel. Not doing things properly or neglecting the left channel could (allegedly) lead to serious mental health issues such as schizophrenia and depression. Of course, we couldn’t use a lit candle, due to health and safety concerns foisted upon us by Ealing Council. Instead, we were told to move it around our body and our head in a circular motion.
At the end of the session, Nick came over to me and asked: ‘how was it for you?’
‘It’s offered me a whole new dimension of enlightenment’, I replied.
Nick chuckled and nodded, and then went back to his PowerPoint projector.
The room emptied very quickly. Some people chatted, others milled around a table where they could buy a photograph of our yogi. As I started to walk towards the Ealing Broadway underground station, I caught up with a fellow classmate.
‘What did you make of all that?’ I asked. ‘Do you think you’ll come back?’
‘It all depends on my work; I’m very busy at the moment’. Within moments, my classmate had gone.
I felt disappointed by the whole evening. There was no stretching, just a bit of ‘unlit candle work’, and a small amount of ridiculous chanting. I had no idea what was going on and I was profoundly unconvinced that any of the ‘teachings’ could increase my powers of creativity and learning. In fact, my kundalini had steadfastly refused to rise, and I sensed that there was absolutely nothing wrong with my chakras.
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