Bikram Quotes

You’re never too old, never too bad, never too late and never too sick to start from the scratch once again.

The World is my home & India is my living room. I'm independent in my living room to explore,hoping someday I will also be able to explore my own home.

Never too old, never too sick, never too bad to start again.

Wait for it Son, to be a good writer you must learn to be patient with your listening and as for the story, it is far from over; there is much more to come~Vitthal

Please! think beyond I, me, myself. This is for the greater good~Vitthal

You see, the problem with dark arts is that it will give you what you want but it will not remain under your control for long~Sister Ava Thomas

Science tells us we are merely beasts, but we don’t feel like that. We feel like angels trapped inside the bodies of beasts, forever craving transcendence.

Angie sometimes wondered if they’d still be married had she stuck with those damn yoga classes. God knows she tried. The crowded, windowless studios made her claustrophobic, and that mandatory loop of Eastern chimes was so annoying. Why the fuck couldn’t they play Pearl Jam? “I’m not cut out for this, Dustin,” she’d said after one blazingly sweaty Bikram session. “Serenity is overrated.” He didn’t get angry; that wasn’t his style. Instead he took up with one of the community’s freshly divorced, self-discovering female yoga fanatics that traveled in packs, ever-alert and lithe as meerkats.

Dude, the world is your oyster now,” Seth said. “Lick it up.” It’s crazy that the friends you’re fondest of from your youth sometimes resemble people you would cross the street to avoid as an adult. An idea came to Seth. “Go back to your apartment and put on shorts.” “Why?” “Yoga.” “It’s Saturday night.” “It’s actually late afternoon. Just do it, Tobe.” “I just had a drink.” “Trust me, dude. I go to a place right near my apartment owned by a guy who trained under Bikram and started a splinter group that nearly brought the political system of India to its knees.” When Seth was single, he said, this was where the majority of his dating life came from. You could be generous and like Seth and still think of what he called his “dating life” as a series of auditions, mostly successful, for sex partners. He explained to Toby that presence in a yoga class, no matter your ability, was a shortcut to showing a woman how evolved you were, how you were strong, how you were not set on maintaining the patriarchy that she so loathed and feared. “Does Vanessa go to yoga with you?” Seth shooed this away. “Yoga isn’t for us. It’s for me.” Meaning he still liked to go to yoga and see if there were better prospects.

TODAY’S ACTIVITIES SINGLE COMBAT TO THE DEATH!—OSLO ROOM, 10 A.M. GROUP COMBAT TO THE DEATH!—STOCKHOLM ROOM, 11 A.M. BUFFET LUNCH TO THE DEATH!—DINING HALL, 12 P.M. FULL ARMY COMBAT TO THE DEATH!—MAIN COURTYARD, 1 P.M. BIKRAM YOGA TO THE DEATH!—COPENHAGEN ROOM, BRING YOUR OWN MAT, 4 P.M.

Yoga just ain’t that type of enterprise. It is ten thousand rain droplets rather than one holy spring. The postures are being innovated. The ideas reorganized, reinterpreted, and reimagined. And there is a long, hearty history where long individuals have appointed themselves all-knowing gurus and deliberately twisted facts to their own satisfaction and cosmology. So throw your ideas of authenticity out the window.

It was a contradiction that Bikram negotiated with two twin sayings: "Ninety-nine percent correct, one hundred percent wrong," and its complement, "Try one perfect the right way, get one hundred percent of the benefits." This 99 percent wrong/1 percent right mentality created the classic Bikram dynamic. During class, internally, there is a perfectionism, a demand for almost hostile conformity that works like metallurgy on the human form. Outside the hot room, externally, or from the teacher’s perspective, the yoga is compassionate, open, and tolerant. every improvement is praised because every improvement is hard won. The strict disciplinarian and the loving healer.

One hundred percent is an illusion. Why do you think so many people in the Bikram world have a beautiful practice for a few years and then slip away? One hundred or even ninety percent is impossible to maintain. You will become exhausted. Mentally if not physically. Terrified of practicing the yoga you love because it is draining you not replenishing you… but even if you could practice at that intensity - it would be undesirable. you can’t make adjustments at your edge. For regular practice, seventy-five to eighty-five percent is fine - you will never tire out and in the long run you will grow much stronger.

Still, happiness will depend on conditions favoring it. Lose those conditions and you lose your happiness. So, if your ability to affect happiness is so limited, the question becomes this—is happiness, then, really worthy of being the ultimate goal of life?” I’d

It is clear that the majority of popular āsana-based forms of transnational yoga today are profoundly influenced by the postural revivals that are the topic of this book. In some cases, such as the Ashtanga Vinyasa system—and its "Power Yoga" spin-offs—a direct line can be traced from modern urban health clubs and yoga studios to educational gymnastics institutions in India during the early twentieth century (the subject of chapter 9). The lucrative Bikram Yoga system, similarly, can be traced directly to the physical culture syntheses developed during the 1930s by the bodybuilder B.C. Ghosh (chapter 6).

Discipline is like a sapling. It grows with you. It isn’t something you are born with. It is a plant that requires continuous nurturing. Its only enemy is complacency. Once you get complacent, your discipline dies, and then you have to start all over again, watering it slowly from the start once again.

It was a metamorphosis. We all change. But we also have some control over the path. We choose our surroundings; we choose where we put our energy. Bikram—one of the most powerful forces to spread yoga—chose his road of materialism and control. He chose to surround himself by very needy people who gave themselves to him. Was it always there from the beginning? Of course it was. But so were many other possibilities.…

That was the moment I started crying all the time. Al the fucking time. I am a cry in-a-box-feel-o-matic whose arms wind up every time it gets quiet. Why does everyone know your goddamn name? Why is the moon in all of your fucking poems? I can't go outside. I order eggs like I am picking satin for my casket. The thing about being cracked open is suddenly you can feel everything even when you don't want to. I used to be a card catalogue. Alphabetical drawers. Convenient decimals. Now the sad sleeps in every crevice, every Whole Foods, every doctor's office, in the park, in the car, erupting from any Bon Iver song or Ingrid fucking Michaelson. I go to Bikram yoga so I can sob and no one notices.

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