Bend It Like Bhajan

Yogi Bhajan was a creative genius to synthesize his very own version of kundalini yoga.  I’m jealous that I didn’t think of it. I want my own goddamned religion too! I should have dropped in on Yogi B when I was a twenty-three year-old production assistant cruising up and down Melrose and Robertson while I was working for fashion photographer & sensual exercise videographer Ron Harris in the early 1980’s. I missed the boat. Now all I get is default Guru Woo Woo Singh hawking love beads at funky cold water Yoga West. 

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Singh Along With Guru Goofball

I had a lot more admiration for kundalini yogis until I actually met Guru Singh after his Tuesday morning class at Yoga West. I explained to him that I was just looking for a form for my personal mystical experience. I was looking for spiritual technological experience, not philosophy. I want yoga not woo woo spiritual theater.

The white kundalini clothes and women with no make-up are really just a big Hollywood act created on Melrose Avenue and Robertson Boulevard. Kundalini yoga is pure Los Angeles spiritual theater. The kundalini guru’s have been believing their own hype for too long. Guru Woo Woo Goofball Singh should step aside and let some young and vibrant yogis have a shot at being the big guru. At least I have something to blog about. Right?

Don’t Pay for Online Yoga, Everything Is Free

When I arrived in LA in October I lived in Westchester, CA on the north runway of LAX. Now I live in El Segundo on the south runway. The north runway is the passenger runway you have landed on and the south runway is the cargo runway where the UPS jets live and breed.

At both domiciles I use the same Ralph’s Supermarket on Sepulveda Blvd. and La Tierja. I was there today. My mentor Dr. Paul McDuff Allen still lives in that neighborhood. I saw our old landlord Raul with his Yorkshire Terriers Canora and Chester out on the Parkway the other day. He didn’t see me and I didn’t even muster a hello. My German shepherd Dharma passed in that neighborhood. The Westchester Parkway is a backdoor to the beach at Playa del Rey, where you can find my PO Box. I have been driving up and down the Westchester Parkway the whole five months. Same me in the same Chrysler motor vehicle racing the jets on the north runway.  No dog.