GoHuman Blog

Since I used to be fluent in Spanish, my agents loved sending me out for Latina roles, but the contrast and culture of my Castillian accent grossly clashed (Think Englishman auditioning for NASCAR driver). The most entertaining part about going on those auditions was how the casting director or assistant would look at me once I entered the room. There was usually a blank stare, followed by a lot of blinking, followed by the question, “You’re fluent in Spanish?” After my confirmation, they would continue speaking to me in English, as though they couldn’t wrap their minds around the fact. Needless to say, I never booked those roles.

What I have finally learned, after over a decade in this industry, is specificity is golden. People want to know what they’re getting – in three words or less.  I’ve conceded to being typecast. My theatrical agent sees it as a numbers game – where do I have the highest chance of succeeding?

We have eliminated the Spanish speaking or looking roles, and have decided my place is in the Asian/ethnically ambiguous category. This already makes me one of a few hundred submissions versus one of tens of thousands.  In Hollywood, brunettes are seen as smart, serious, and often times, a bad girl. My ethnic diversity tends to suggest an air of mystery, which is subconsciously uncomfortable. This equation easily categorizes me as a mischievous or mysterious bad girl – mischievous for comedy, mysterious for drama and/or action.

There’s a certain freedom to knowing your specifications. You can focus on strengthening and developing the range within those descriptions, because they really aren’t as limiting as they might originally appear.  And being able to expand on a type creates a depth of character that is refreshing to see in casting, like Marlon Brando in The Godfather. Not only did he win an Oscar for the role, but decades later, acting teachers and students alike swoon over the unexpected, complex character Brando created. Here is where artists get to really play; the place where you let your imagination run wild, and you’re able to listen to the insatiable curiosity you have for your character. This is where the rigid intellectual ends, and the organic, imagined life begins.

To be continued next month, when I’ll explain how this also relates to the yoga business.

My mother is his opposite. Being the first of three, she had a lot of responsibility at a young age, and felt accountable for taking care of her family. Mother’s character is passionate, temperamental, highly spirited and creative. You feel this from her even if she just walks into a room. I believe she has always loved the arts because they give her freedom to express her full range of emotions. Along with enrolling us in private school, my mom had my two sisters and me in ballet, flamenco, art and piano lessons. My sisters and I embraced our artistic sides, each one of us pursuing it as a career choice.  My older sister, having gone to UC Berkeley for criminal psychology, later found herself drawn to Le Cordon Bleu and delving into culinary arts. I went to the University of Southern California for Piano Performance, and have been an aspiring actress ever since (naturally). My younger sister also majored in Piano Performance, and then went on to get her Masters in Piano Performance and Pedagogy, and is now in her third year of getting her Doctorate in the same.

My father was not amused with all of us and our artistic inclinations. He was pretty annoyed with my choice to “throw away” my time at a good university. He relentlessly asked, “How are you going to make money?” He did not support my decision, and consequently we did not speak for over six years. During those years, I discovered yoga, and delved into self-help books, philosophy, astrology, numerology and past life regression. I was looking for some kind of explanation as to why I got the father I did. Eventually I was able to heal the feelings of hurt and betrayal I had, and attempt to get to know him as an adult.  It took a lot of softening on my part – I inherited the Spanish temper, after all – and I still often feel like a rebellious teenager around him.

Earlier this year, over lunch, my father was sharing his stress and grief over my younger sister’s continued education choices.  He didn’t understand why she would purposely put herself in over $100,000 debt for an education that wasn’t “guaranteed” to make her successful, financially. He told me of a conversation they had during which she asked for financial help. He not only refused, but also slandered her love of piano, something she had already spent most of her life developing. As he told me his side of the story, I fought the urge to defend my sister, and instead listened to what was behind his complaints. And then, I started laughing. The humor of my ultra-conservative, left-brained father marrying a free spirit who bore him three artistic daughters hit me like a scene in Modern Family. I swear to you, in that moment, I looked at everything differently. It wasn’t a coincidence that my father married his opposite. I also don’t think it was a coincidence that his daughters chose completely different fields than he had wished. We all could use a lot more compassion and tolerance in our lives. The world as a whole wishes for peace.  What better place to start than within the microcosm of our family?

We criticize that which is different from us and what we don’t understand. We usually choose friends who share similar interests, views and hobbies, or bring qualities we aspire to into the relationship. In this way, it’s easy with friends. If you decide you don’t like someone, you can choose to write them off. But the members of our family are beyond our control, and we’re stuck with them for life (if we’re lucky). So I like to imagine that on some level we actually subconsciously choose our family — or anyone we have friction with, for that matter — so that we will be forced to expand our capacity for love by learning to tolerate and maybe even accept our differences.

Then, a few weeks ago, John Friend, the founder of Anusara, confirmed accusations of sexual misconduct, financial corruption, drug use and sexual misuse of power. Since then, the number of certified teachers that have handed in their resignations has skyrocketed. Still, the most devout Anusara-lovers blindly defend their leader and their style of yoga.

It’s like watching people go through the five stages of grief right before our eyes:

• Denial and Anger: Blaming accusers for slandering their teacher and type of yoga
• Bargaining: A handful of senior teachers within the community have pleaded with John to resign his seat as a teacher, and with their students to stay put while they figure something out
• Depression: Status updates like “When will this all be over?”
• Acceptance: More teacher resignations

It might sound callous to say this, but somewhere along the line, way too much stock has been put into John Friend, who, after all, is just a mortal. The tricky thing with yoga is that these teachers are not only teaching a physical activity, but one that is associated closely with philosophy and ethics. Historical yoga texts mention the yamas and niyamas as being paramount to asana. In fact, asana is just one of the Eight Limbs… a stepping-stone on the way to enlightenment. Students, understandably, expect their teachers to practice the philosophical aspect of yoga – but many simultaneously develop an unhealthy devotion towards their teachers. Why? Where does this start? Is it the students’ doing or the teachers’?

There is definitely a type of personality that readily gives up their power to another. But there is also a clever manipulation of philosophy, paired with charisma, that some teachers use to assert their power over others. A friend’s life coach would lure in her students by telling them she was the only person who could “wake them up,” and if they didn’t agree with what she said, it was “the ego interfering.” People craving peace, acceptance and community throw money, time and dignity at those promising to deliver… and an unhealthy relationship develops.

In the end, I can only comment on my personal experience with Anusara and its teachers. One thing that stuck out to me throughout my own teacher training was the saying “Your greatest teacher is within.” A lot of responsibility comes with this concept, which is probably why many choose to instead give over that responsibility to someone else. Regardless, I cherish this saying, and I appreciate the few teachers who have really given me the space to nurture that belief in myself.

I believe there shouldn’t be an imbalanced relationship between teachers and students; rather, a mutual respect, a sharing of information, and then a parting of ways. We students need to figure out for ourselves how to integrate the information we learn in our training, and the only way to do so is by stumbling, walking or soaring out of that classroom so that we can grow, independently. Otherwise, we will continue to outsource our power.

This is also why I believe teachers must always remain students. We are organic beings — continuously shifting, growing, changing — so what resonates with us will also transform us. I’ve always been skeptical of any practice that was overly simplified and finite. The human body, let alone the mind, is an incredibly sophisticated instrument. Scientists admit that the more they know, the more they realize they don’t know. So why would we, as yogis, trust in one teacher so completely that his undoing unravels us? For me, this whole Anusara scandal has been a reminder to once again check in with the only teacher I know I can truly trust: myself.

I was always taught to square the hips to the side of the room. I practiced this way for years and wondered why my hips wouldn’t open, and why I would sometimes have SI joint pain or knee pain. There seem to be two radically different schools of thought here: one is to shove the body into the ‘final’ version of the pose, despite whether your hips are open or not, and the other is to approach the pose according to where the body is at the present moment. Looks vs. integrity.

Regardless of where one stands in this argument, I believe the greater question is, “What serves each student best?” Since yoga literally means ‘to yoke’ or ‘to unite,’ I constantly ask myself, as a teacher, “How can my student feel the most connected to their body?”

I just recently saw the movie Moneyball and loved it. I dare say I shall be putting it and this year’s The Help up in my list of all time favorite movies.  I am impassioned about cheering for the underdog, stepping out of the status quo, slaying the impossible. (Hence my involvement in GoHuman.)

Moneyball is the true story of Oakland A’s general manager Billy Beane’s attempt to put together a successful and winning baseball team on a low budget. He and the rest of his management team had been taking the same approach for years – looking at the players’ strengths, their looks and their habits off the field. This conventional wisdom isn’t serving them, though, because the team is doing poorly. So Beane goes out on a limb and hires a recent college graduate, Peter Brand (a composite character based largely on Paul DePodesta), for his ability to think differently. Brand convinces him to stop looking at things like a player’s unsightly throwing style or ugly girlfriend — things that baseball managers had been using for years in making their player decisions. Instead, he only looks at one thing – who gets on base. Getting on base equals runs, and runs equal wins. Though ridiculed by their management team and the press, the A’s go on to win twenty consecutive games – an all-time record in baseball.

What does this have to do with yoga? I have seen a very similar thing happen in the yoga community—teachers fixated on a principle before looking at an individual student’s needs. It seems as though the longer one spends immersed in the yoga scene, the more emphatic and rigid their ideas become, especially about alignment. After a while, it seems like some teachers prioritize their ideas and philosophies over actually looking at their students and reading what’s going on in the moment.

I love how simply Brand looks at winning baseball: GET ON BASE. To draw an analogy with yoga, the ultimate “win” for a yoga student is to experience that undeniable feeling of connection in their body, mind and spirit.  Their ‘bases’ might be things such as: acquiring more flexibility, balancing in handstand, floating in arm balances, or building core strength. We might have to modify a pose or two to ultimately get our students on base, but if it gets them closer to their “win,” does it matter how they got there?  If teachers stay rigid about formulaic alignment, students might never get on base. Worse, they will get discouraged and give up.

In Moneyball, Peter Brand gets ridiculed for using a methodology that is different and new. And a good yoga teacher runs the same risk by refusing to buy in to the old belief that perfect alignment is the only important thing and should be achievable right off the bat. Certain popular teacher training courses use language like ‘the most difficult certification process’ in order to convince both students and teachers that their style is the best and safest. But these kind of grandiose statements have the unfortunate side effect of producing some strong-minded, ego-based teachers who put the copyrighted style before the student. It’s this sort of mindless rigidity that leads to injuries.

I think it’s wonderful (and imperative!) for yoga teachers to study human anatomy and physiology.  In my humble opinion, I feel we can never learn enough about the human body. But for a lot of us teachers, this means taking the initiative to seek education outside of our yoga training, or even outside of the world of yoga altogether. Since so many teacher trainings put the emphasis on alignment and tradition over individual bodies, it’s up to us to do the legwork to become better teachers.

As teachers, we are in the position of being of service to the student, and ever expanding our knowledge and awareness is one of the best ways of being in utmost service to our students. We have to think like Brand: for ourselves.

Last year, I received a call from Adidas, who approached me to be their Global Yoga Ambassador.  A global yoga ambassador gets to travel around the world to different gyms, teaching and evangelizing the word of yoga. Basically, my second perfect job. (My first is starring in an action film. I’m a natural.) I was elated to hear I’d made the final cut. Adidas flew me to NYC to meet with their representative – let’s call her “Maria” – and to teach her yoga so that she could get a feel for my style. Maria said she loved the class and told me about the relief she felt with a sciatic issue that had been bothering her for years. We went to lunch after class to discuss possibilities.

At lunch, Maria talked about my strengths, Adidas-style: good teacher, knowledgeable, inspiring, with a global “look,” young without being too young. Toward the end of our conversation, she posed a fateful question: How can we market you?

Huh? I asked her what she meant. Maria explained that they needed to prove I was a good teacher with a bona fide paper trail. Which yoga-related websites or magazines had I been published in? Did I have certificates resembling diplomas that would make me more credible? You see, I would be following in the shelltoes of Elena Brower, a highly regarded Anusara teacher (with a dancer’s physique).

I returned to Los Angeles and crafted an impassioned letter, detailing my pedigree and beliefs about yoga. My Anusara Level 1 and Level 2 Teacher Trainings were with (among several talented others) Noah Maze, Tara Judelle, and Naime Jezzeny. I had taken over 200 hours of workshops with John Friend, Desiree Rumbaugh, Carlos Pomeda, Ross Rayburn, and Darren Rhodes – all household names in the Anusara community. My daily practice is with Annie Carpenter. My ongoing education is with Chloe Chung Misner of Bonnie Bainbridge Cohen’s Body-Mind Centering®. I taught at City Yoga, #1 on Huffington Post’s “Best Yoga Classes in Los Angeles.”

Then I worked the philosophical angle.

I explained that the yoga scene is filled with people preaching that to be a “real” yogi, you must be vegetarian, wear organic cotton, don mala beads and patchouli. You must have studied in India, resigned your material possessions, lived in an ashram, meditated in the Himalayas, and been hugged by Amma. I called bullshit on the idea that if you’re a size zero with a sick practice, you must be a great teacher. Or that having a celebrity following says something about you as a person.

“Screw it,” I wrote. That’s not the kind of yoga I know. It’s because of all of those preconceived notions that yoga remains inaccessible and inapproachable to many people. Yoga is a way of being that transcends schools of thought, and to borrow from Rumi, it lies “beyond the fields of right and wrong.”

And this is where I brought it all home: I reminded Adidas of their own ad campaign. I wrote, “Adidas asks, ‘Who are you as an individual?’” (Nice touch, right?) In my classes, I see a yogi population that wants to be recognized for its abilities and imperfections, a population who won’t be categorized into a stylized box and who may live an entire lifetime without living in an ashram, much less the desire to visit one, and yet they have the same chance of becoming enlightened as anyone.

Adidas, I said, It’s with this new wave of yoga that I identify. I eat meat, I adore animals. I love clothes and material possessions, and I don’t believe that living without anything will make me a better person. Evolving is a choice I make daily. I don’t believe in gurus. I think we all have the potential to be the best version of ourselves, and our greatest teacher is within. I believe that the most influential people of our time are cut from the same cloth. The Dalai Lama didn’t study to become inspirational; he simply speaks from his own experience.

I clicked SEND on my email and reflected. How’s that for a marketing campaign, Adidas?

A week later I received a response: “You’re too short.” Ouch.

In acting, it’s common to be turned away for not looking the part. Casting directors have a particular image in mind, and make no bones about it. You can say what you want about the entertainment industry’s superficiality, at least they’re up front about it. But because this was about yoga, I suppose I assumed that Adidas would consider passion, drive, knowledge, and originality more important than say, being 5’6” or taller. My bad.