Lost in Translation

by Dennis Hunter

Yoga and meditation have taken American society by storm. Starting from a few transplanted Indian teachers and their ashrams, countless styles and schools of yoga have evolved to address every niche market and demographic: bootcamp-style hot power vinyasa classes; body-image oriented yoga for glutes and abs; traditional Bhakti devotional yoga done in front of murals and statues of Hindu deities with chanting and incense, wearing white clothing; corporate yoga done in front of computer screens or at office desks, wearing suits and dress socks; yoga for children; yoga for the elderly; yoga for overweight people; yoga for women; yoga for men; prenatal yoga; postnatal yoga; alignment-based yoga; Christian yoga; dance-based yoga; pilates-based yoga; yoga for sleep; yoga for sex; martial arts-based yoga; acro-yoga; aerial yoga; and, yes, even hot nude yoga.

In the realm of meditation, something similar is now taking place. Starting from a few Buddhist meditation centers established by teachers transplanted from various Asian countries, “mindfulness” (and a host of related practices) has grown into a cottage industry and a household word in mainstream society. Mindfulness is taught at Google and in Wall Street banks to help employees be less stressed and more productive; it’s taught in hospitals to help patients cope with pain and illness; it’s taught in classrooms to help students concentrate and perform better on tests; it’s taught in church basements to help addicts in recovery and in therapists’ offices to help patients regulate mood disorders; it’s taught in temples to help spiritual aspirants reach towards enlightenment and in boutique meditation centers to help busy urban professionals find a time to slow down and relax; it’s taught by the military to help soldiers cope with the stresses of warfare.

With yoga and meditation finding their way into so many corners of American society, and taking on so many new — and frequently materialistic — manifestations, it may be time to take a step back and assess whether something essential is being lost in the translation of these ancient Eastern traditions into American culture. 

Balance

My teacher had the lovely idea of starting class with what felt to me like the longest tree pose ever held in the history of yoga. It was so long that I found myself going through several phases….

Phase 1: I am a yoga God.

The first few breaths, I was good. I nailed it. I looked at the mirror and gave myself a mental wink and applause. Two thumbs up. A standing ovation. I glanced around to see all the little bonsais struggling to grow as tall and powerful as I was.

Prior to that, I had already checked that my hips were in line, and that I was engaging my legs. I looked at my reflection in the mirrors to make sure that I didn’t look too serious, that my gaze was soft, that overall I was ready for my killer Yoga Journal cover photo. I also checked my six-pack. I made a mental note: more core work tomorrow and no chocolate tonight before bedtime. I felt the ego-spotlight growing on me. The ego always whispers in your ears the things you want to hear. Makes you feel like you own it. Like you are the star of your own reality show. The ego disconnects you and separates you from reality. It creates an image in your mind, an illusion—a fake reality.