our-yoga

Warning: This post contains descriptions of dead animals being chewed to bits and then burnt. It also contains what is commonly referred to in the blogosphere as food porn. If you are offended by any of these things, read no further!

But things took an interesting turn on Sunday morning. For brunch, we went to this hole-in-a-wall Vietnamese place in a more... industrial part of town. I took one look at the menu, and knew that this was going to be difficult: There were no tofu or other meat-substitute dishes listed on the menu. Still, I decided to try my best to find something that does not have meat in it (we needed to be somewhere immediately after brunch, and I did not think it appropriate to make an issue by alerting my friends to the apparent absence of vegetarian options on the menu). Under "Appetizers", I saw something called "Spring Rolls". It doesn't say anything about the presence of meat in it, so I ordered it. Then under "Noodle", I saw something called "Noodles with Egg Rolls" which, again, does not say anything about the presence of meat. I asked the server about whether there was meat in any of these two items. In halting English, she told me what was in them. I couldn't really understand what she was saying, but whatever she said did not sound like any kind of meat. Just to be sure, I asked her if there was shrimp (some Asians do not consider shrimp to be meat) in any of these dishes, and she said no.

Having thus ascertained the absence of meat (and shrimp) from what I took to be a reliable authority, I went ahead and ordered the spring rolls and the noodles with egg rolls. A few minutes later, the noodle dish came. I bit into the spring roll, and felt this stringy, slightly rubbery texture which had to be pork. Ha! Do Vietnamese people not consider pork to be meat (or is there some place on this earth where pigs grow on trees?...). But I ate it anyway, because not to do so would involve either eating nothing of the dish or eating only the noodles, and I really did not feel like loading myself with only empty calories in the morning.

A couple of minutes later, the spring rolls came. They looked something like this:

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Earlier today, I was chatting with a friend. She was trying to plan what kinds of food to cook for her family for the coming week, and was running out of ideas. In an attempt to get me to give her some ideas, she asked, "What kind of food do you like to eat?" I was about to respond by saying things like Indian food, Thai food, etc., but then I stopped myself: It occurred to me that she wanted suggestions on things that she could cook at home given her culinary expertise (i.e. typical North American housewife cooking skills--somewhere above mac-and-cheese, but not at bistro or restaurant level, and definitely not at the level of restaurant-level Indian or Thai food).

Seeing that she wasn't getting much out of me in the way of culinary suggestions, she tried a different tack: "Well, what would you ask your mom to cook for you if she were in town?" Ha! Actually, this is an even harder question for me. Firstly, my parents live on the other side of this planet, and I don't get to see them that often. Secondly, I've never had the sort of relationship with my mom which involves me asking her to make my favorite foods whenever I'm in her presence. Not sure why this is so; for as long as I can remember, when I lived under the same roof as my parents, I basically just ate what they cooked. This might have to change the next time I visit them, though: Having been vegetarian for the last four years, I don't think I can (or even want to) revert to the omnivorous diet that is so ubiquitous of Chinese cooking. There is a (Chinese) saying that the Chinese eat anything that crawls, swims or flies. And I know, from personal experience, that this is literally true. And without being preachy or all-high-and-mighty, I really don't want to go back to eating things that crawl, swim or fly.

But I digress. Back to my conversation with my friend. Rather than go into a long discourse about the ubiquity of Chinese cuisine (as outlined in the previous paragraph) and possibly bore her, I decided on what I thought was a more straightforward response. "Well," I said, "I actually don't know what I would ask my mom to cook for me. The last time I saw my parents, I was still a meat-eater. But neither of my parents are vegetarian (actually, nobody else in my family is), so I honestly won't know what to ask them to cook for me when I see them [Note to self: I need to start thinking about this at some point.]."

Needless to say, my friend didn't quite know what to make of what I said. I can't really remember what she said after this point, but I'm pretty sure she (or I) changed the subject, and the conversation went in a completely different direction.

Not the most interesting thing to blog about, I know, but this is my life right now. Just another day...      

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Image via Flickr user The Yoga People

Did your invitation to headline Wanderlust get lost in the mail? Yeah, mine too.

Bill Murray isn't begging you to come to his vacation home for a $500 private yoga session? Don't take it personally. I'm sure his agent is just having a hard time finding your contact information.

That yoga studio in Paris didn't return your calls when you pitched them with your great new workshop idea? Bummer. I've always wanted to go to Paris, too. Maybe you should work on your elevator pitch?

Or maybe it's time to get creative! There are so many cards stacked against the small town, independent yoga teacher. I won't belabor the point--the brilliant Michelle Marchidon nailed it a lot better than I could in this post.  Unless you're one of the, oh, 25, yoga teachers nationally who get invited to travel the world teaching festivals and workshops, appear on the cover of yoga magazines, or teach the rich and famous, making a living as a yoga teacher these days is no easy feat. It's a nice dream, but it's time we ll came to the realization that for most of us, teaching lots of yoga classes just isn't going to be enough to pay the bills.

I 'm still figuring it all out for myself, but I've been paying attention to how some of the most financially free yoga teachers make a living. And it may not be what you think. Here are a few ideas I've been toying with.

1 - Create and Sell a Product. 
Whether it's a book, DVD, or online video course or teacher training, many teachers are supplementing their incomes by creating a product once, and selling it over and over again. Even if you're not a well-known teacher with a huge following, with a little Internet savvy it shouldn't be that hard to make enough on the project to make it worth your time. And of course, once you're a social media superstar, companies will be happy to pay you for your influence.. (But yoga teachers with that much influence, really don't need my advice, do they? So, let's move on!)

2 - Cut Out the Middle Man. 
Once upon a time, it was my goal to teach at cute, local yoga studios--then I realized that if I was lucky enough to get a slot on the schedule, the studio owner would take as much as 80% of what the students pay to take a class. If you're doing tons of marketing yourself anyway, you might as well set yourself up so YOU can pocket most of the class fees. I've done this by teaching in a public park (free!), renting stand up paddleboards for SUP Yoga classes, partnering with a painting studio to have yoga and painting classes, renting out a local dance studio, and even renting out a room in a yoga studio during their off hours. I've seen other teachers have lots of success by teaching at public beaches and even in their own living rooms! It can be a lot of work doing all the marketing yourself (and it's a liability going it alone, too), but most yoga teachers have to market themselves to fill their classes anyway. You might as well maximize your earning potential, too. You may never make tons of cash this way (I haven't yet!), but at least there's the POTENTIAL to make some if a class idea takes off. Plus, it feels good to me knowing your success (or failure) is completely in your own hands.

3 - Join a Network Marketing Company You Love. 
I admit that the first time I saw Elena Brower had become a high level "beauty ecologist" for natural skincare company Pangea Organics, my ick alarm sounded pretty loudly. Is it taking advantage of students to sign them up to be a part of a "network" and then make commission from the work that they do? (For the uninitiated, that's how companies like Pangea Organics, Pampered Chef, Arbonne, Young Living, etc. work. Person X signs on to be a consultant and works hard to get Person Y to sign up, too. Once Person Y makes the investment to become a consultant, Person X makes a small percentage on any sales Person Y does as well as her own sales.) There's a lot of money to be made for a persuasive go-getter with a lot of contacts and influence in her community. After I thought a little more about this idea, I came to the conclusion that while the way network marketing companies PAY is a bit different, being a part of one of these companies is a lot like selling your students any other product--even yoga class becomes product when you're getting paid, am I right? Why not share a product you love and make some extra income when someone you know decides to purchase it based on your recommendation?

4 - Don't Just Teach Yoga--Teach Life!
I know lots of yoga teachers who teach yoga part time because they love it. The other part of the time they pay their bills through one-on-one life coaching, health and nutrition coaching, or even business coaching. Of course, all of these things probably require a little more training (something I'm unlikely to do), but I wanted to throw it out there because coaching seems like a good option for teachers who are really gifted at helping others take their yoga practice off the mat.

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Image source.

Here's a little reminder for all of the well-meaning folks hosting a big, old traditional Thanksgiving dinner at their houses later this week: Vegetarians don't eat turkey.  I know it seems obvious, but I'm reminding you of this because I've been to many a Thanksgiving dinner where the host, who has slaved over a hot stove all day long, places a heap of stuffing on my plate with a smile. I hate asking if there are bits of turkey in it, or if it was prepared INSIDE of the beautiful bird, sacrificed in the name of tradition, but I must. "Oh... I forgot. But there's just a LITTLE BIT in there! Can you just eat around it?" Probably not without gagging...

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It's here! Can you believe it's already Thanksgiving week!? I love what Thanksgiving represents... counting your blessings. spending time with family and friends, enjoying nature's bounty.

There's only one problem..

The traditional Thanksgiving feast--especially a traditional Southern Thanksgiving feast--doesn't leave many options for vegetarians. It's not as simple as just passing on the turkey, gravy, and stuffing (which, by the way is delicious with vegetable stock instead of turkey). Southerners have a knack for adding meat in the most creative ways! Mashed potatoes are flavored with chicken stock. Green beans have bits of pork floating in them. Cranberries are mixed with Jell-O. The sweet potato casserole has those tiny marshmallows on top.

If you're someone's guest, and you know they've slaved for hours over a hot stove for YOU, it feels horrible to just keep passing the serving dishes on by because you can't eat what's on them.

As a yoga student, I chose a mostly vegetarian diet in the name of ahimsa, or non-harming. It just feels wrong to me to eat animals ... but at times like Thanksgiving dinner when you know you might be hurting someone's feelings (and seem like a high-maintenance, ungrateful snot in the process) ... well, that just doesn't seem right either. Have you ever tried explaining vegetarianism to a 90-year-old grandma who lived through the Great Depression? She thinks you should be grateful to have a plate full of food--not worrying over whether it has chicken stock in it. It's Thanksgiving, for crying out loud! There are no winners in this situation.

I'm hosting Thanksgiving dinner for the first time this year, which means I can make sure I'm not eating meat products for the first time ever! Hooray! (Public Service Announcement: If something has "just a little bit" of bacon in it, your vegetarian guests still don't want to eat it.) But I'm struggling with having a turkey and other traditional foods that I know my guests will want. I don't want to be the reason that others don't enjoy their holiday in the way they choose to celebrate it, but I also know there are lots of other fantastic options.

So, I'm asking for advice from other vegetarians out there. How do you handle this delicate situation either as a guest or a host during the holidays?

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The issue of eating or not eating meat (and the accompanying issue of whether one can eat meat and still be a proper yogi) seems to have resurfaced recently, both in the blogosphere and in my everyday environment.

 
First, my everyday environment. A couple of days ago, I was ordering my usual lunch (a veggie sandwich on wheat bread) at the campus cafeteria. As the server was putting my sandwich together, the guy next to me in line remarked, "Oh, you have no meat in your sandwich!" From the baffled tone in his voice, I think he meant something along the lines of, "Dude, you forgot to put meat in your sandwich!" This being the upper midwest (and a rather rural part of it, at that), the idea that somebody could eat a sandwich without meat in it probably still strikes many people as quite strange, to say the least. In any case, this is how the conversation between me and this guy unfolded from this point: 

Nobel: "I'm vegetarian."

Guy: "Really? I could never imagine going without meat. How long have you been vegetarian?"

Nobel: "About two years."

Guy: "How do you feel, not eating meat for so long?"

Nobel: "Well... I feel lighter. But really, most days I don't even think about it anymore. I've not eaten meat for so long, I barely even notice I'm not eating meat." 

Guy: "Very interesting."

And we then went our separate ways.   


The same issue has also recently emerged in the blogosphere as a topic of discussion. First, Grimmly recently blogged about his journey from vegetarianism to non-vegetarianism, and back to vegetarianism. Grimmly's story is very authentic and inspiring. You should check out his story, if you haven't already done so.

Bindy also ends her recent post about her wonderful trip to Akron, Ohio with an account of these delectable cheeseburgers that she ate at an old-school burger joint, the kind "with waiters who run out to your car to take your order & return quickly with a tray that hooks on to your window just like in the 50s. you eat in your car."

Anticipating the possibility of the vegetarian/vegan police/PETA activists leaving snarky comments in her comments box, Bindy continues,

"i know many of you who read this blog are probably repulsed by this, but i eat meat because when i was a vegetarian for 7 years, i got sick ALOT. since i began eating meat-the exact same year i started doing yoga-i haven’t been sick since. not all bodies are meant for the vegan/vegetarian lifestyle.
even though i know many of you will anyhow, don’t judge me. i myself am not fond of vegans but i try not to judge either."
  
Well, Bindy, I am certainly not repulsed by your account (and pictures) of the delectable cheeseburgers. And I think it is probably true that not all bodies are meant for the vegan/vegetarian lifestyle. If eating meat (and lots of it, to boot) is your, uh, piece of steak, then more power to you!

Personally, I don't think I would have become vegetarian if it weren't for the Ashtanga practice. Two years ago, I moved to Milwaukee, and became a full-time Ashtangi when I started going to morning mysore at my teacher's shala. At my teacher's recommendation, I decided to try not eating meat. To this day, I still don't really know why I listened to him: Many, many people have tried to persuade me about the wonders of vegetarianism before that, including a couple of (in my opinion) rather misguided big-name yoga teachers (I'm not going to name names here...) who resorted to cheap scare-tactics like showing PETA videos (you know, the kind with graphic depictions of chickens getting their beaks cut off), but I had basically ignored them, and continued merrily eating meat, especially my favorite meat dish, fried chicken. It probably also doesn't help that I was brought up in a culture (Chinese culture) whose members have been known to eat anything that crawls, swims or flies. Which, if you think about it, is an evolutionary advantage, since this pretty much means that Chinese people will probably never die of starvation due to lack of food in foreign environments :-) So growing up, meat was as much a part of my life as, I don't know, apple pie and cereal might be to the lives of others. Growing up, I used to think that the only people who didn't eat meat were (i) Buddhist monks and nuns, (ii) people with certain medical conditions. I suspect that many Chinese people still think this way.

But I digress. As I was saying, I still don't know why I listened to my teacher, where so many have tried to persuade me but failed. Maybe it has something to do with his no-bullshit way of going about it ("If you stop eating meat, you can get deeper into Marichyasana D!"), but I almost immediately decided to start by limiting myself to eating meat once or twice a month. After about a month of doing this, I realized to my surprise that, except for the occasional craving for fried chicken or Friday Fish Fry, I really didn't really miss meat all that much. And I also discovered that not eating meat allowed me to feel (and be) lighter. Which really helps a lot when you are getting up early to put yourself into things like Mari D and Pasasana six days a week.

So really, I don't have any particularly noble or high-minded reasons for becoming vegetarian. The chief reason is my Ashtanga practice: I love doing the practice too much to let something like fried chicken get in the way of Mari D or Pasasana. Which is probably a very bizarre and egotistical reason to go vegetarian to most people in the so-called normal world ("What? You give up fried chicken and Filet Mignon just so that you can twist yourself into funny shapes every morning? Have you lost it?"). But hey, I'm sure people do even stranger things for way stranger reasons all the time...

In any case, since my reasons for being vegetarian are not very high-minded (in fact, they are actually rather egotistical, if one equates asana achievement with ego), I'm not in a position to hit anybody over the head for not being vegetarian. Nor do I want to. Having been on both sides of the vegetarian-omnivore divide, I don't think being or not being vegetarian puts one in a better or worse position to become a self-realized being. As a matter of fact, I hear that His Holiness the Dalai Lama eats meat too. So if you are a meat-eating yogi/spiritual practitioner, you are at least in good company :-) 
 

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