Yoga is Gangsta

"Do you give private yoga lessons where you put your leg behind your head?" A question I get on a weekly basis at the facility. To all of which I reply...no. No private yoga, no leg behind the head for you...but not this kiddo, this kiddo was different. He was quiet, and had a calming presence and his first question to me was..."What does yoga mean?" I smiled at him and said "Union with God." His eyes widened with delight and a gleeful smile danced across his face and he said...."That's...gangsta..." From then on he was my yoga baby. He called me "Little Homie" which was comical because he was one of the few kids on facility smaller than I. Sometimes I would get the occasional "What up Loke?" which was the ultimate compliment and I beamed at the reference. He had become one the the more dedicated yoga and meditation practitioners I'd seen. He asked all sorts of questions, diligently showed up to class...I said he was my protege, and he glowed with pride at every mention of his work.

They were calling me on the walkie talkie, but I didn't have one on on me, so I couldn't respond. I walked up and asked one of the staff what was going on...they said it's your boy, your yoga boy. Something went down and I thought you could help. My heart lerched...and grabbed the walkie. "This is Simone, is he still here, is he on site?" "10:4". Ten four...he's here, but leave it alone. I whirled around and started to run. I didn't have to go far, and I came upon a group of people, police, probation officers, administration, therapists, and clients. It was a mess, and then I saw him somewhere in the deep sea of chasos. They had him in the middle of this group, outside on the cement tied to a folding chair, hands cuffed behind his back, his head sunk down. His entire face was swollen and red, his eyes bloodshot, his chest pounding....I walked up to a therapist and asked "Can I talk to him?". "No, let the staff deal with it." It was firm gesture that said get your inexperienced ass outta here. I started to walk away and then he looked up, saw me, and froze. One of the head administration walked up to me and said "Can I help you Simone?" "I heard they were trying to walkie me, but I didn't have a walkie on me...can I talk to him?" "We have it covered" was the response. It was firm, brisk, almost rude...a don't over step your bounds on this one little miss. Well obviously they had it covered, but did they have him taken care of? I started to walk away but noticed the kid didn't take his eyes off me, so I didn't put my back to him. I calmly, and slowly backed away, and allowed his gaze to lock with mine. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever...and then a nod "What up little homie?" he mouth whispered. "How are you my boy?" i responded... "Chillin..." he smiled. "Chilling"....chilling with your hands in hand cuffs, your feet tucked in a folding chair, fifty probation kids watching you, police surrounding you, your probation officer breathing down your neck, and an entire team of staff blocking anyone from coming into a fifty foot radius of you. "I got you" I said in my head..."I got you yoga baby"...I gently put my hand to my heart. He nodded and smiled. I knew his soul he had heard what I had said, the message was there.

Several days before this incident we had a break through in meditation together. He asked his internal guide if there was a way that he could be happier, was it more money, a job, girls...and his internal guide told him that all those things were temporary, didn't last, and that he was looking for something deeper. Something more he told me. A kid locked up on the verge of enlightenment...something more I have no doubt he will find, because yoga is gangsta, and he is the ultimate seeker. I was reminded in this instance that real connections need no words. A knowing glance across a crowed room in a storm full of insanity, says more then anything. It marks the true test of understanding...the I got your back, love you, and you are not alone that surpasses all circumstances. That's it, bar none. That was the last moment I saw him, and will probably ever see him again. But, it's ok because we had it. What most people yearn for in their entire life time, a truth, an understanding of something deeper and someone that gets that depth in you...and no one, nothing, i mean nothing can ever take that away....

Bye Simone, Love you Simone.

He never spoke a word to me, in fact it was widely recognized that he didn't speak to me...most the kids on the facility knew he didn't talk to me and I had acted like it was no big deal. In my presence he spoke about how he hated white women, how he thought they were arrogant, spoiled, and only liked to spend time with people of their own kind. He never said it directly to me, but it was clear every time I was around...I was the audience he was speaking of. If I ever aimed a comment at him like "Hello", or "Hey, how are you?" it was met with a blank stare and a look away...I was clearly talking to a brick wall and my gestures were all met with failure.

Photo By Allen Wyler

I wouldn't be being honest if I said it didn't bother me at all, although I smiled and for the most part let the comments roll over me or through me, or whatever the hell you are supposed to do when someone hates you and pretends you don't exist all at the same time. Plainly, it sucks...to feel that anything you do or say, or simply your very way of being is not enough.

I was leaving the facility the other day and starting walking out the door after my round of good byes and heard someone say "Bye Simone, Love you Simone." I didn't think too much of it, as the "I love you's" have gotten more frequent in my time at the facility....but my heart still gets a bit twitterpated when I hear it. I turned around to see what young gentleman I should bestow a smile and a wave at as I headed out the door. I looked around, and there he was...the silent serpent that had spewed nothing but venom towards me for six months. I tried not to trip over my own foot when I turned around, or make a big deal, or say "I love you" back, or "thank you..." Which I've learned is even worse...as one kid once told me smilingly "dat's coold Simone, dat's cold." It was a frozen moment where I caught a beautiful wild leopard peacefully drinking water from a still pond, and didn't want to spook it as it might run away...or attack me. So I swallowed, nodded and smiled and then went out the door.

"Bye Simone, Love you Simone." The words rolled around in my head like marbles as I left...the first words he had ever spoke to me in six months. It was shocking for two reasons, one: that he noticed I was leaving...noticed my presence, and that it had some how impacted his life enough to say good bye to me when I left. The other was that he loved me. In what way, in what time, on what planet had he come to love me? Obviously it was a planet I did not understand in the slightest, but I'll take it I said to myself. I will take that damn love...and know that everyone comes to trust, love, and grow in their own time, and it's perfect. It's all gloriously perfect.