Chapter 20: Tolerating LA

The Journal of a Bikram Yoga Teacher Trainee

Tolerance is but one of the many things that we have been told that our training was designed to instill in us. The heat, the aerobic aspects of certain postures, the relentless schedule, the crowded classes, the overburdened locker rooms, the aches and pains that arise in our bodies, the divergent attitudes, beliefs and opinions that are bound to exist within such a large group of people, all these things are integral parts of the Bikram Teacher Training Program and not just by-products or side effects. [I think I was somewhat tolerant before I entered the program and I honestly can't say at this moment whether or not my capacity for it has increased. It probably has but I'm not aware of a scheme for measurement. At least not right now.] The previous three sentences are bracketed because, while writing the paragraph which follows this one I realized I had found a measuring stick. I considered deleting the bracketed portion but leaving it in allows me to illustrate that I don't always know what I'm going to say/write when I sit down in front of my computer. The process can be as relevatory for me as it is for you.

Several times I've passed an exit sign on the highway pointing the way to the Museum of Tolerance. Today I decided to check it out. I had never heard of it before but I assumed it would have something to do with civil rights or the holocaust. I also assumed it would be Jewish-run. I was right on all three counts. My name, vehicle info and license plate number were taken down and entered into a database, I had to show a picture ID and my car was searched. I might have been put off by these actions as intrusive a couple of months ago but my tolerance for such has increased in light of world events which have unfolded since September 11. I realize that a museum of this nature may very likely have had the same security measures in place pre-WTC, sad as that may be. If so, then in this case, the only thing that has changed is me. I was gracious and helpful even as I was being sized up as a potential security risk -- not at all offended or resistant.

The museum experience was frustrating, fearful (not in the way you might think), moving and reassuring. The frustration was due to the way that my movement through the exhibits was controlled by museum guides, physical barriers (doors and ropes), timed events and a confusing floor plan. The focus of the museum was tolerance and understanding of human behavior in all its various forms and colors but, of course, the holocaust was one of the key events around which its exhibits were built. I find it uncomfortably ironic that the museum visitor's are herded through the exhibits in a manner as to leave them disoriented and without control. The first couple of exhibits seemed somewhat manipulative in order to make a point and I began to feel wary. For example, there are two doors through which one supposedly can enter the museum -- one marked Prejudiced and the other marked Unprejudiced. We were told twice that we would have to choose which door to enter the museum through but if you try to open the Unprejudiced door you discover that it is locked. The guide then explains that no-one may enter through that door since no-one is truly unprejudiced.

My discomfort increased upon entering, with a group of approximately eighteen to twenty people, a mock diner which was configured as a multi-media interactive installation. As soon as we all took seats at an early 60's style diner we were told that we would watch a short video dealing with issues of free speech and hate speech after which we would be encouraged to ask and answer questions and offer our own opinions on the topic. This is when I became afraid. Was I really being asked to enter into a group discussion with a bunch of strangers on such difficult topics? I immediately felt like I was put on the spot and wanted to leave. I didn't, though. I decided to put my fears aside and risk participation. After all, my fears seemed petty compared to the kinds of life-threatening challenges many people face in this intolerant world every day. The video dealt with a confrontation about race in which there were no clear winners or good guys. Extreme points of view were expressed by white and black characters resulting in a physical confrontation that left an innocent bystander dead. The Q&A session which followed turned out to be less risky than I was anticipating -- it was done through video terminals which displayed multiple choices. We were able to select the questions we felt comfortable answering as well as the ones we wanted to ask. Our answers were then tabulated and displayed on the main terminal as percentages. Unfortunately, everyone else must have struggled unsuccessfully with the same resistance I had overcome because by the time we came to the Q&A session there were only three of us left. It turned out to be a fascinating exhibit and I was truly sorry that so many people had left. It would have been more interesting to see the responses of a larger group than three. By the time it was over my concerns about being manipulated were gone -- the diner presentation was carefully thought out and there were no "correct" answers provided for the questions raised. It was stimulating and provocative.

The most moving part of the visit was a talk given by a holocaust survivor, a small and lively man named George Brown (name Americanized upon immigration). Words fail me beyond saying that I was honored to hear him speak. (I may say more later.)

I then went to The Shrine by the Lake, a meditation garden built and maintained by the Self Realization Fellowship, an organization founded by Paramahansa Yogananda before his death. It's been on my "must see" list since I arrived because Bikram's guru, Bishnu Gosh, was Yogananda's brother. What another great honor it is that I am studying under a man with a direct connection to this amazing, and world-renowned, family. Back to the point, the garden was a disappointment. It was very pretty and serene but it felt artificial and more like a Disney display than an actual meditation site. There were a lot of people milling about, the landscaping had a sculpted look, there was the obligatory gift shop and there was an abundance of Do Not Enter and Closed signs on various pathways and doors. It was also a cold afternoon with very little sun breaking through the heavy cloud cover. When I left the house in the morning it was sunny and I have envisioned an idyllic sunny afternoon relaxing in solitude. I also expected the grounds to be looking more natural and less contrived. Perhaps if I started out with fewer expectations I would have been less discriminating.

I spent the next two hours in traffic. I deliberately chose the slow route -- the meandering Sunset Boulevard -- because I knew it would take me through some posh and beautiful neighborhoods. If I were fabulously wealthy I could imagine living here. The west side of town, towards the ocean, is incredibly lush with exotic flora and rife with panoramic views. Topanga Canyon, in particular, looks like it would fit most of my criteria for an ideal place to live. Except for the price of real estate and the cost of living, that is. Can you say "unreachable?" I was enjoying the drive until I got into north Hollywood and drove smack into the middle of a parade. At six o'clock on a Sunday evening? Fucking weird town. I then spent the next hour trying to get out of gridlock. I kept going further and further out of my way only to be foiled by thousands of other people apparently doing the same thing. What I want to know is -- How does Bikram get everyone in the city to join him in his program of testing my patience and tolerance?

Posted with the permission of the author. Formerly the technical director of a national touring theatrical company and a enterprising web designer, the author now teaches at his own successful Bikram Yoga Studio. If you would like to comment or read additional excerpts of this journal, please email Webmaster@BikramYoga.com