My Path Into Yoga took place between 1999 - 2001. From 2002 through 2008 the story was on the Yoga with Perumal website. Then it was removed from January 2009 - July 2018. For nearly 10 years this story was absent from the website since some reading My Path Into Yoga came looking for a stereotypical guru which I am not. Most of the names and dates are omitted since they are insignificant. Look closely and you will find something deeper than the story.
One morning, I was in a coffee shop working on my laptop. I looked up and standing in front of me was a Caucasian man in his mid fifties, wearing an Indian Kurta with grey hair and beard hanging to his navel. He was observing me. My attention returned intensely to the monitor but seconds later I glanced up with curiosity to see he vanished. A few minutes later I heard, “you look organized" from behind me. I turned to see him. I was surprised and feeling like my privacy was being violated. I turned off the laptop, rotated my chair, and faced him with an expression saying, "what do you want?" He smiled and introduced himself. His name is Babaji. Ok, an Indian wanna-be; a throw back from the Sixties. That morning there was no time for anyone. Not even the interesting ones. I introduced myself and stared at him. Then he said something convincing me he was mad. “You are going to teach Yoga,” he said. That was an impossible conclusion to draw since I was not taking lessons.
For years I told friends of a future vision of Europe yet not knowing what I would do there. So hearing this made me think teaching yoga, a community oriented endeavor, could never be correct. Before I could end the conversation, he started showing me the “downward dog” yoga posture on the floor in front of everybody. This man is nosy and embarrassing. I avoided saying anything, thinking that would defuse a situation which was getting weirder by the minute. He gave me his number and invited me to a Buddhist Monastery.
I tucked the number away in a manner to indicate interest. I did not care. That night I kept seeing images of him while in a waking state. I felt this experience with others who influenced my life. Although skeptical I called him. We arranged to meet at the monastery.
The Monastery
It was a decrepit yellow house on top of a hill. The front lawn was weed ridden, the paint was flaking, and a mural of some Indian deity was the only thing indicating this to be a monastery. The place ran on donations. When I walked in I saw roughly ten people kneeling, standing, or stretching quietly on a carpeted floor. Everyone was soft spoken. As the hour approached for practice the students started lining up. I followed and waited curiously.
The master walked in. He was a Japanese man in his mid forties with, once again, long hair. The straight black beard and hair hung to his mid section. Like the hippie he wore white loose clothing. Pictures of him on the wall at age 20 showed him with the same hair and clothing that he was wearing at 45. This did not seem like a fly by night master. He definitely looked and lived the part. I’m in the right place I thought. It all felt so spiritual. And I was in awe. We started with the sun salutation and the competitor in me took over. I was going to stretch further then anybody in that room even if it killed me. And it almost did. The lady next to me was back bending like there was no tomorrow. The master’s breath was so slow that it took two to three breaths of mine just to keep up. No one in the room made a sound. All moved in unison. It was so surreal. I gasped for breath while trying not to show it. How embarrassing! Everyone was quiet and relaxed. Adding to my embarrassment the students were 20 or more years my senior. The practice humbled me. I was ready to be a student.
On the third week I kept up with the master’s breath and almost exploded. Holding the breath was practiced with imagining white light moving from the stomach into my limbs. Once finished I noticed my hands drawn to my center. When stepping out of the monastery to the car the light was brighter, the air crisper, while sensitive to sound. When starting the car minute sounds that I never processed could be heard from the engine. Driving seemed to be in slow motion. The speedometer said thirty-five miles per hour but my eyes saw everything as if it was ten or fifteen miles per hour. While pushing my foot against the gas pedal it was as if my foot was not just touching the pedal. My foot was touching all four tires and it could feel every pebble on the road. I somehow knew the car would run another three years. This answered my anxious question of how much longer this old thing would last. It was as if the car and I were fully integrated! There was no division between the inanimate and animate.
The experience with the car was one thing. But what followed I will never forget. I went into a parts store for my clunker. I found my part and took it to the counter. The cashier/owner started talking to me. It felt like I knew him. I don’t mean the details of his life. I knew his essence. And I knew why he was talking to me. The man was indirectly investigating my knowledge of parts. He wanted to see if he could overcharge me. But on that day he charged me the fair price. I knew buying from him again would be a bad idea.
The car and the parts store experience lasted nearly two hours. Throughout this whole time I just kept breathing. Over the next several months I went on to experience similar spiritual episodes at the monastery. But it was never with the same magnitude. These experiences were all an indication to me that yoga was more then just breathing and stretching. Although this is important it is only an aspect of the whole.
The Call Of A Guru
During my study abroad program on my second month of celibacy I was approaching midterms. One night after studying I had a strange dream. I was teaching yoga to some twenty-five students. While standing in front of the class Teacher X walked in from the back, stood in front of the class, and started speaking on my behalf. I woke up that morning thinking what a weird dream. How can I become a Yoga teacher I thought?A few weeks later I began to see an image of an Indian man from his hair line to just below his lower lip. This went on for three weeks. I have to go to India I felt instinctually. Somehow what I saw was telling me where I was supposed to be. He looked like someone in his thirties but could very well be ten or more years older. In the vision, although a yogi, he is also capable in the martial realms.
A few months later I went to Kerala, India. While visiting my family I searched for my next teacher. During every interview I studied the faces of the teachers. Around the sixth interview my cousin told me of a teacher that had been working privately with his uncle. He was called to my auntie’s house where he sat waiting for me in her home office. I walked in and sat across from him on the desk. As soon as I looked at him he introduced himself as a Yoga master. Without his introduction I knew who he was. The face matched the vision I found my teacher!
He started teaching me immediately. By the end of the first week he said, “You will come to teacher”. Oh no not another strange yoga prophecy. I started recalling what the Hippie said. By the end of the second week he said with great enthusiasm, “you will come to teacher known all over the world and you will come to master. This I foresee. I will certify you”. He was beginning to worry me. It all seemed such a different direction. I did not want to teach yoga because the last thing I wanted to do was be one of “those guys”. Most of the people I met within yoga in that time had strange hyper organic anti-system values.
I accepted my Guru’s certification and letter of recommendation. As I collected the certificate I started recalling the latter Teacher X dream. Then it all began to make sense. I once did the teacher thing in another system and the whole mystique of it was behind me.
How It All Came Together
Babaji pointed the way. The Buddhist monk introduced me to slow, deep breathing in salutations along with the spiritual side of Yoga. Teacher X thought me that Yoga has a strong physical side. The celibate female master helped me gain further control of my lower self which has been put into practice when in between relationships. My Guru recognized and endorsed me.
The style of Yoga with Perumal is a combination of an adapted salutation I learned from Teacher X coupled with the deep breathing of the Buddhist monk. Included is the pranayama learned from my guru. The postures run in the sequence I prefer for myself. I teach what I practice. As the years progressed with teaching I discovered preparatory postures and honed the six parts of my style (Pranayama, Preparation, Salutation, Strength, Stretching and Meditation). By the year 2018 a Retreat Method was honed through 7 years of intensive Marrakech retreats.
Babaji pointed the way. The Buddhist monk introduced me to slow, deep breathing in salutations along with the spiritual side of Yoga. Teacher X thought me that Yoga has a strong physical side. The celibate female master helped me gain further control of my lower self which has been put into practice when in between relationships. My Guru recognized and endorsed me.
The style of Yoga with Perumal is a combination of an adapted salutation I learned from Teacher X coupled with the deep breathing of the Buddhist monk. Included is the pranayama learned from my guru. The postures run in the sequence I prefer for myself. I teach what I practice. As the years progressed with teaching I discovered preparatory postures and honed the six parts of my style (Pranayama, Preparation, Salutation, Strength, Stretching and Meditation). By the year 2018 a Retreat Method was honed through 7 years of intensive Marrakech retreats.
There is so much more to say that has been left out. What happened with every year following 2001 - 2004 of my teaching in London, 2005 - 2010 Milan and 2010 - 2018 Marrakech has a lot to say similarily to what is read here. One’s path is comparable to a space between dream and reality. If I chose to be overly logical I would not be where I am. But that does not mean you give up logic. It is like threading a needle. Tapping in requires honesty with oneself. Mostly one has to live without denials. Some fundamental ways of being disconnected from the path is living a life others believe you should live, holding relationships with people that are not true to the inner self, and maintaining a work and study path not reflecting the needs of the soul. This story is part of our evolutionary heritage and within all of us. There is no mystery.
