Talk:Pattabhi Jois

Improvement and tags
I am starting the ball rolling here; I want to improve this article and I'll start by suggesting the referencing should be:
 * 1) More specific
 * 2) Broader. There must be other references we could use?

Anybody? --Guinnog 22:41, 27 October 2006 (UTC)

Reference
I couldn't find the ISBN for the Sri K. Pattabhi Jois: A Tribute, and it doesn't come up at Amazon.com or .co.uk. Is it a verifiable source? --Guinnog 23:19, 27 October 2006 (UTC)

Why not add a reference to KPJ's book, 'Yoga mala'? Since he wrote it, I think it should be added. Eam531 17:39, 25 March 2007 (UTC)

Probably, it would be worthwhile to include some mention of the reports female students have made of unwanted sexual touching during posture adjustment. Here is a firsthand report I found on this messageboard :

Those things you're hearing are probably valid.

YogaVane, be warned: this is long. This was a strange and intense week, but I feel if I'm going to tell this story, I'm going to tell it true. So I'd ask you to keep a couple of things in mind during this story, OK?

First, I am telling it to you here in this very public forum because silence lets these people continue. Silence tells them their behavior is OK.

Second, I'm telling you this story because when this happens to someone else, and I already know it has, I don't want that person to somehow internalize it. We tend to think we did something, or we asked for something, or it is personal. This is a story of opportunity taken by a man who abuses his position and has for years. I don't want someone young and inexperienced to have their yoga tainted by this type of situation. It is my hope that if someone has been mishandled by their teacher, this will help them realize it is NOT about them and they are not alone.

Third, a few notes about my mindset and from where I'm coming: I have years of experience in domestic violence counseling. I understand how the abusers' minds work, and the steps through which victims go when attacked or in this case, molested. I did not manufacture this, I didn't dream it would happen to me (I'm evidently not his habitual type), nor was I prepared to go through the very steps my clients traverse. I found even though intellectually I knew what was going on, as a woman, individual, yoga student and invaded human being, I had to walk that walk before I accept what was happening, deal, and let it go. I am not a particularly striking woman. I don't attract men's attention that constant passes are an issue. I also do not see sexual innuendo or an overture behind every smile or touch. So knowing this, be aware that I am not body-phobic. Everyone has a body, they're just different. I'm familiar with what inappropriate touching is and is not. I did not manufacture this, I did not misunderstand the guru/yogi relationship, nor am/was I seeking attention to feed some weird hunger in my own soul. These are the arguments I've received from people who have never been inappropriately touched or who want to rationalize something reprehensible. I did not make this up.

As you probably know, Ashtanga is a very touch-intensive practice. We expect and frequently love adjustments, bodies get close, touch is firm. A trust and respect develops between a student and a teacher's knowledge of the student's body's development. It's hot and sweaty. Many, many people coming from other traditions have a more distant physical relationship with their teachers in relation to their bodies. They might see each other once a week, vs. the daily practice many Ashtangis have. Sometimes they misunderstand this closeness and so much touch. I, and most Ashtangis do not.

OK? Here we go:

Monday's practice went as expected. Lots of good energy, lots of great practices and lots of fun. As Pattabhi strolled by counting off the practice, he laughed at me and called me "Laughing Lady" from then on. I've been told by my teachers that I always have a smile on my face, particularly when I close my eyes to move. (We won't get into the eye closing thing! :) )

Tuesday began the oddness. I was assisted in Baddha Konasana, which I absolutely love. It can be almost euphoric! Pattabhi got behind me and kneeled on my knees. (No, not my upper thighs, but my knees. Thank goodness I'm flexible there or he'd have cantilevered my hips out of their sockets.) He lay down, torso on torso to bring my body forward. However, he reached around my body and grabbed my breasts, ostensibly to help me extend my shoulders forward, but his chin was clamped down on my shoulder. He did not let go. This adjustment should be the upper shoulders, not lower ribs and breasts like a push-up sports bra. I was shocked and rationalized, "That didn't happen. It was just a mistake." After this Tuesday, September 11th morning Mysore I was in a cab on the way back to my hotel when the first plane flew into the WTC. I watched, thinking they must be making a movie. Standing on the sidewalk out in front of my hotel, watching plane #2 fly into the building? I knew I was wrong.

Eddie's Yoga Shala, who hosted Pattabhi again, was inside the restricted zone as was my hotel. Practices continued as scheduled. The classes shrunk, though, from 200 people to 15 or twenty. It was like having a private with Sharath and Pattabhi. (Sharath has a wonderful, gentle adjustment touch and was never, EVER inappropriate.)

On this day, I was gifted with an assist in Marichyasana C. Where my teachers laugh and say, "B&B!" (Boobs & Belly, as in Move 'em!) Pattabhi helped me move mine. In an effort to twist me further, he stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders and lower leg in my lower back. Fine. However, as people twisted, he moved his hands lower and began to twiddle with my nipples as he pulled me backwards. There was NO mistake. I popped out of the pose to shake him off, very shaken myself. The next step in this thought process came, "Oh my GOD that actually happened!" I finished my practice in shock.

Thursday I was very skittish and thought long and hard about going. After walking the streets rank with the stench of burned people and buildings looking for a place to give blood the previous day, I knew my mind needed my practice, if not just my body. I was leery and my practice was choppy.

Sure enough, though, he got me. An assist in Triang Mukha Eka Pada Paschimottanasa is to use the thumb and forefinger to hook into the hip crease of the bent leg, drawing that thigh down and out to better seat the position. Pattabhi reached both hands around my body, both hands deep into my groins, palms against my pubic area, and began to intone in his funny, high voice, "Open pelvis, hips down." But he never made the adjustment, he just kept his hands in my groin. I wriggled out of that asana, thinking, "That SOB just grabbed my crotch!

Friday God knows why I went back. I kept thinking I'd come to NYC to do this, so I would. I was still wired about no phones, the stench, being alone for the first time in NYC, etc. This was the day I lost it in practice, though. Why did it take me four times before getting what he was doing through my skull? Because I also didn't want to believe it was actually happening.

Today he assisted me in Janu C. Where the bent leg's foot should be perpendicular to the floor, toes spread back? Most people, I included, have the foot on an angle as we work to open the ankle up. He sat behind me (I began to cringe; my gut knew something was coming) in an Uphavista Konasana seat. He reached around me with both arms to adjust my foot. My ankle was no where near ready for this, so I tensed. He laughed and said, "Relaxing, Laughing Lady! All will come." As he was holding my straight leg upper thigh open with his left hand, he was twirling his thumb around in my crotch while ostensibly holding my other foot in place. But he forgot and let go of the foot -- but not my crotch. I freaked. I bowed my elbows backwards, knocking him off of me, and in the face of 20 other yogis, jumped up and loudly demanded that he "get his damned hands off of me." And I left. In retrospect, I wish I'd been more descriptive.

I didn't go back for Saturday.

I did notice something, though. When people were done, they'd line up to do the foot kissing thing. He'd raise them up and do the kiss-kiss, people would take pictures and they'd go away all goofy. After that first time, he grabbed my shoulders, raised me up and smacked a big one flat on my mouth. I was appalled and grossed out. The next days I avoided the line, but watched while others went through. There were a few other women who did their darndest to avoid the lip smackers. I have a feeling those were some he'd similarly blessed.

So you see, this wasn't a single, misunderstood incident. Although it was a horribly stressful week between 9/11 and being groped, it was still NOT about me. I am NOT special, nor is any victim of molestation. This was an opportunity a predator takes when he thinks he can get away with it. It's extremely common (in more ways than the obvious) in superior/subordinate relationships. Think about grab-ass in an office environment? Not much different.

I would never tell you not to go to Mysore, although I will not while this man lives. The trip in itself is an amazing experience. I would, however, send you off with eyes wide open. If this happens to you, don't be shy about taking responsibility for your practice. Name what is being done and say it out loud so there is no misunderstanding. "Don't touch my crotch."

Call any inappropriate teacher/person on this stuff. If you don't, you tell them it's OK by your silence. Know you risk ridicule, the teacher's future disapproval or being ignored, but you draw a boundary around your own body. You might help someone younger or insecure in dealing with the same thing. Boundaries let us grant permission to those we trust and respect to draw near. Think of them in the Tantric sense rather than as a fence. Experience Mysore. Just be cogniscent of his man's history.

Points: His type is evidently tallish and blonde. (I'm neither.) Women who wear exposed shoulder clothing. Shoulders are evidently a point of eroticism in Indian culture. Sports bras that push-up.

Since this happened to me, I've heard of and talked with quite a few women who have been molested by him. All expressed the shock and horror that they'd done something, or their practices were soiled/spoiled. I had been reassessing the direction of my own practice when this happened. If it weren't for the pragmatic, asexual, careful touch of the male teachers at my Ashtanga studio when I returned, I might have left a practice I love behind. But Pattabhi is not Ashtanga. When we're all dead and gone, the franchises gone bankrupt, and the gurus disproved, the yoga will still go on. Yoga isn't us, yoga is yoga. We might define ourselves by our yoga in many ways, but yoga is a loaner which can show us how to be better people. Pattabhi is not yoga and he does not rule my thoughts about my yoga. He did not win.

So there you have it.

Christine

Floorsheim 23:48, 5 July 2007 (UTC)