Day 1

I arrived at Mountaintop Pranayama at 9 a.m., greeted by breathtaking grounds. Little did I know, my lodging was a yurt nestled halfway down the hill, where I shared space with two fellow males—one resembling Robert Redford and another closer to my age, 58. The yurt was cozy, featuring three cots, a heater, and a skylight revealing the sky above. Much of my day was spent in orientation, meeting the staff and fellow participants. I would soon find myself frequently gazing out the yurt's skylight, pondering my future in California.

Day 2

The lead teacher, known as Spirit Guide, introduced us to the four yogas and the eight limbs of Ashtanga. Despite my years of yoga practice, I found myself immersed in new knowledge. The first class emphasized hands-on adjustments during poses, an enlightening experience. Meals were exclusively vegetarian, crafted by a talented chef. That evening, as I sat journaling in my yurt, I began to question whether teaching yoga was truly my path. I realized I found greater joy as a student than I might as an instructor.

Day 3

My assigned community service was cleaning the restrooms, a humbling task that shifted my perspective on the value of all work, from trash collection to dishwashing. During a discussion about our aspirations and preferred yoga styles, many expressed a desire to become teachers, while I remained uncertain. When one student asked about my lifelong dreams, I replied without hesitation, "Writing." That night, I wrote poetry inspired by the mountains and the individuals I had met during the training.

Day 4

Our morning class focused on challenging backbends and headstands. I struggled with backbends but discovered a gentler approach to headstands. In the afternoon, we hiked to the Watering Hole, where I chose to reflect on my image in the mountain water rather than join my peers in yoga poses. I recognized I couldn't envision myself as a yoga teacher yet felt content to be there, grateful for the insights I had gained about myself.

Day 5

Meditation took center stage today, with practices like alternative nostril breathing and Pranayama clearing my mind. The vegetarian meals invigorated me, leaving me feeling light and energized. I had never tasted tofu so delightful and imagined how healthy I would be if I had that chef at my dinner table every night. I learned how breathing techniques facilitate transitions in difficult poses. Back in the yurt, I continued my writing, creating stories and poems that reflected on my roots in Philadelphia—ironically, a place I had grown tired of, yet now found myself reminiscing about.

Day 6

Impatience crept in as I realized I had ten more days to endure. I missed my girlfriend (who would soon become my wife) and questioned my decision to participate in this training. Gradually, I reassured myself that this was an adventure, not a trial, something I had longed for over the past year. The warmer weather invited me to relax in the jacuzzi post-classes, where I sprawled on the grass with a copy of "Don Quixote," jotting down ideas for a yoga routine on the book's back cover before heading to bed early.

Day 7

This morning, I glanced in the mirror and noted dark circles under my eyes—a remnant of a restless night on the uncomfortable cot. My roommates snored, and navigating to the restroom in the quiet woods was a challenge, requiring a flashlight to find my way. Despite the eerie silence, I felt renewed energy and confidence once breakfast was served and classes commenced.

Day 8

The night sky was illuminated by a full moon as our entire group, including instructors, made our way down the mountain to the fire pit, drums and sage in hand. We formed a drum circle while the director shared a story about the mountains and their significance to the Chumash tribe. Playing the bongos, a skill I hadn’t practiced since college, was exhilarating. The incense and rhythmic drumming created an atmosphere that felt almost magical. This day quickly became my favorite.

Day 9

I engaged in yoga and social interactions, realizing that deeper connections often come with their share of drama. Some students viewed becoming yoga teachers as their last hope for redemption in life. One woman faced immense loss, while another struggled through a contentious divorce. We celebrated a birthday with gluten-free cheesecake, enjoyed a violin performance, and attended a lecture on the seven chakras. I concentrated on opening my heart chakra and reflecting on my aspirations for the future, feeling thankful for the opportunity to participate in such a vibrant program with talented individuals.

Day 10

As classes became increasingly challenging, I took on a new role in the gift shop. My folding skills left much to be desired, prompting the supervisor to offer assistance. The highlight of the day was a guest instructor who taught us the art of Thai massage. As she demonstrated the techniques, I chose a male partner, despite the director’s teasing about the many beautiful women around. I opted to sidestep any potential awkwardness, embracing the relaxing nature of the massages.

Day 11

Today was designated as Silent Day, during which communication through speech was forbidden. Instead, we relied on smiles and gestures. Initially, I found the experience amusing yet awkward, but as the silence enveloped us, I began to appreciate the small wonders—flowers, bees, the expansive sky. My thoughts turned to my future, and writing emerged as a prominent desire. I filled two journals with my unfiltered thoughts, relishing the freedom of expression without self-critique.

Days 12 to 15

The subsequent days flew by as we prepared for our final presentations, which involved leading a fifteen-minute yoga class. I designed a Hatha Yoga sequence that included meditation, sun salutations, tree poses, warrior poses, and concluded with savasana. Completing the routine filled me with a sense of accomplishment and relief, transforming my initial discomfort into confidence. The instructor affectionately dubbed me "Cool Cat" for my smooth demeanor and jazzy playlist.

Day 16

On the final day, each participant delivered a two-minute speech to the group. I initially aimed for a cliché expression of gratitude but ended up humorously lamenting the challenges of our daily hikes. During the closing ceremony, I recognized my decision not to pursue a career in yoga instruction. Through deep contemplation, I realized that writing was my true calling. I resolved to embrace it fully, committing to daily practice and continuous growth as a writer. Success was secondary to the journey of refining my craft.

Postscript

In retrospect, I’ve come to appreciate the parallels between yoga and writing: both require mindfulness, flourish in relaxation, and seek precision without the burden of perfection.

Here's another memoir by Mark —

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