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| A Tantric pose |
By William J. Broad, The New York Times, February 29, 2012
The wholesome image
of yoga took a hit in the past few weeks as a
rising star of the discipline came tumbling back to earth. After accusations of
sexual impropriety with female students, John Friend, the founder of Anusara, one of
the world’s fastest-growing styles, told followers that he was stepping down
for an indefinite period of “self-reflection, therapy and personal retreat.”
In retreat John Friend's sexual indiscretions upset many devotees of Anusara yoga,
which he founded.
Mr. Friend preached
a gospel of gentle poses mixed with openness aimed at fostering love and
happiness. But Elena Brower, a former confidante, has said that insiders knew
of his “penchant for women” and his love of “partying and fun.”
Few had any idea
about his sexual indiscretions, she added. The apparent hypocrisy has upset
many followers.
“Those folks are
devastated,” Ms. Brower wrote in The Huffington Post. “They’re
understandably disappointed to hear that he cheated on his girlfriends
repeatedly” and “lied to so many.”
But this is hardly
the first time that yoga’s enlightened facade has been cracked by sexual
scandal. Why does yoga produce so many philanderers? And why do the resulting
uproars leave so many people shocked and distraught?
One factor is
ignorance. Yoga teachers and how-to books seldom mention that the discipline
began as a sex cult — an omission that leaves many practitioners open to
libidinal surprise.
Hatha yoga — the
parent of the styles now practiced around the globe — began as a branch of
Tantra. In medieval India, Tantra devotees sought to fuse the male and female
aspects of the cosmos into a blissful state of consciousness.
The rites of
Tantric cults, while often steeped in symbolism, could also include group and
individual sex. One text advised devotees to revere the female sex organ and
enjoy vigorous intercourse. Candidates for worship included actresses and
prostitutes, as well as the sisters of practitioners.
Hatha originated as
a way to speed the Tantric agenda. It used poses, deep breathing and stimulating acts —
including intercourse — to hasten rapturous bliss. In time, Tantra and Hatha
developed bad reputations. The main charge was that practitioners indulged in
sexual debauchery under the pretext of spirituality.
Early in the 20th
century, the founders of modern yoga worked hard to remove the Tantric stain.
They devised a sanitized discipline that played down the old eroticism for a
new emphasis on health and fitness.
B. K. S. Iyengar,
the author of “Light on Yoga,” published in 1965, exemplified the change. His
book made no mention of Hatha’s Tantric roots and praised the discipline as a
panacea that could cure nearly 100 ailments and diseases. And so modern
practitioners have embraced a whitewashed simulacrum of Hatha.
But over the
decades, many have discovered from personal experience that the practice can
fan the sexual flames. Pelvic regions can feel more sensitive and orgasms more
intense.
Science has begun
to clarify the inner mechanisms. In Russia
and India, scientists have measured sharp rises in
testosterone — a main hormone of sexual
arousal in both men and women. Czech scientists working with
electroencephalographs have shown how poses can result in bursts of brainwaves
indistinguishable from those of lovers. More recently, scientists at the
University of British Columbia have documented how fast
breathing — done in many yoga classes — can increase blood flow through the
genitals. The effect was found to be strong enough to promote sexual
arousal not only in healthy individuals but among
those with diminished libidos.
In India, recent
clinical studies have shown that men
and women who take up yoga report wide improvements in their sex lives,
including enhanced feelings of pleasure and satisfaction
as well as emotional closeness with partners.
At Rutgers
University, scientists are investigating how yoga and related practices can
foster autoerotic bliss. It turns out that some individuals can think
themselves into states of sexual ecstasy — a phenomenon known clinically as
spontaneous orgasm and popularly as “thinking off.”
The Rutgers
scientists use brain scanners to measure the levels of excitement in women and
compare their responses with readings from manual stimulation of the genitals.
The results demonstrate that both practices light up the brain in
characteristic ways and produce significant rises in blood pressure, heart rate and tolerance for pain — what turns
out to be a signature of orgasm.
Since the baby
boomers discovered yoga, the arousal, sweating, heavy breathing and states of
undress that characterize yoga classes have led to predictable results. In
1995, sex between students and teachers became so prevalent that the California
Yoga Teachers Association deplored it as immoral and called for high standards.
“We wrote the
code,” Judith Lasater, the group’s president, told a reporter, “because there
were so many violations going on.”
If yoga can arouse
everyday practitioners, it apparently has similar, if not greater, effects on
gurus — often charming extroverts in excellent physical condition, some
enthusiastic for veneration.
The misanthropes
among them offer a bittersweet tribute to yoga’s revitalizing powers. A
surprising number, it turns out, were in their 60s and 70s.
Swami Muktananda
(1908-82) was an Indian man of great charisma who favored dark glasses and
gaudy robes.
At the height of
his fame, around 1980, he attracted many thousands of devotees — including
movie stars and political celebrities — and succeeded in setting up a network
of hundreds of ashrams and meditation centers around the globe. He kept his
main shrines in California and New York.
In late 1981, when
a senior aide charged that the venerated yogi was in fact a serial philanderer
and sexual hypocrite who used threats of violence to hide his duplicity, Mr.
Muktananda defended himself as a persecuted saint, and soon died of heart failure.
Joan Bridges was
one of his lovers. At the time, she was 26 and he was 73. Like many other
devotees, Ms. Bridges had a difficult time finding fault with a man she
regarded as a virtual god beyond law and morality.
“I was both
thrilled and confused,” she said of their first intimacy in a
Web posting. “He told us to be celibate, so how could this be
sexual? I had no answers.”
To denounce the
philanderers would be to admit years of empty study and devotion. So many women
ended up blaming themselves. Sorting out the realities took years and sometimes
decades of pain and reflection, counseling and psychotherapy. In time, the
victims began to fight back.
Swami Satchidananda (1914-2002) was a
superstar of yoga who gave the invocation at Woodstock. In 1991, protesters
waving placards (“Stop the Abuse,” “End the Cover Up”) marched outside a
Virginia hotel where he was addressing a symposium.
“How can you call
yourself a spiritual instructor,” a former devotee shouted from the audience,
“when you have molested me and other women?”
Another case
involved Swami Rama (1925-96), a tall man with a strikingly handsome face. In
1994, one of his victims filed a lawsuit charging that he had initiated abuse
at his Pennsylvania ashram when she was 19. In 1997, shortly after his death, a
jury awarded the woman nearly $2 million in compensatory and punitive damages.
So, too, former
devotees at Kripalu, a Berkshires ashram, won more than $2.5 million after its
longtime guru — a man who gave impassioned talks on the spiritual value of
chastity — confessed to multiple affairs.
The drama with Mr.
Friend is still unfolding. So far, at least 50 Anusara teachers have resigned,
and the fate of his enterprise remains unclear. In his letter to followers, he
promised to make “a full public statement that will transparently address the
entirety of this situation.”
The angst of former
Anusara teachers is palpable. “I can no longer support a teacher whose actions
have caused irreparable damage to our beloved community,” Sarah Faircloth, a
North Carolina instructor, wrote on her Web site.
But perhaps — if
students and teachers knew more about what Hatha can do, and what it was
designed to do — they would find themselves less prone to surprise and
unyogalike distress.
