Namaste Away From My Baby Stroller: The Day Seeking Enlightenment Almost Killed Me
My First Rude Awakening About "Yoga People", and I'm a "Yoga Person" or I guess l used to be... I wonder if I still am?
I remember the first time I had a rude awakening about what assholes yoga people could be, and this is coming from a “recovering” yoga person.
My son Kingston was about 1 year old. I had decided to go for a very long walk to Home Depot to return something—combining, as I always do, some functional purpose with a destination walk. We were living in the West Loop of Chicago, which meant I was going to walk Lake Street up over to Grand, Grand over to Clybourn, and try to zigzag my way to the Home Depot on North Avenue.
It was pretty f*cking ambitious in retrospect. But that's one thing I am. You can call me a lot of things, but you cannot call me unambitious.
The Setup
Here's what you need to know: I was probably walking to Home Depot to save money because we were a one-car family, and I walked everywhere in the city. I was returning something to get probably $44 back that I needed for baby food or milk. At the time, we were struggling for money because I was a professional yoga teacher. Yes, you read that right—I was broke because I taught yoga for a living.
So as I zigzagged my way to North Avenue, I ended up at a section that wasn't where the crosswalk was. The crosswalk was far enough away and it was a hot enough Chicago summer day that I was highly reluctant to walk a single more step in that direction. I had walked my face off and hadn't even considered what the walk back was going to look like with my 1-year-old sweating in the stroller.
I found myself at the intersection of two choices: endanger me and my child's life to jaywalk across a 4-to-6-lane road in Chicago, or walk the extra half mile there and back to the light.
The risk taker that I was, sometimes still am, and seeing the cars slowing to a stop and realizing that I needed to cross, I embraced my inner city mom strength and decided to jaywalk that motherfucking street like a boss.
The Near Miss
All the cars stopped. The light where I should have been crossing was red. Everybody left enough room for me to wiggle through. I carefully—and when I say carefully, I mean I was walking next to the stroller, not pushing it in front of me—went through the cars. All the people were waving me on, kindly giggling even, making sweet faces like, "Oh, what a cute baby."
Until I was juuuusst about across the street.
The light had turned green, so cars were starting to go to my left now. There was a long right-hand turn lane that could turn you heading into Home Depot or deeper at the light (where I should have been). I was peering around the corner to my right when a white Mercedes Benz station wagon—which transparently would have been a dream car at the time—went WHIZZING by my face at mock speed.
Thankfully, my hyper-vigilant mom instincts had me walking beside the stroller, not behind it. I shudder to think what would have happened otherwise, because at the speed that wind hit my face, my heart sank knowing how bad that ALMOST was. Even recalling now I am shocked that anybody would be driving that fast in a right-hand turn lane with as much traffic as was going on. You would think when you see other cars stopped, "Hmm, I wonder why they're stopped."
But no, she whizzed past. And I know it was a she, I saw the blonde hair and can perfectly conjure the moment even now because when I looked up what I saw has stayed with me forever.
A license plate on the back of that big beautiful car that read: "DO YOGA."
The Irony Hits
The irony hit me almost as hard and fast as she could have.
As I walked into Home Depot and made my return, the PTSD and injustice dug deeper. Here was someone driving my dream car with a "DO YOGA" license plate while I was returning something to get $44 back for baby food. Someone rushing—presumably to a yoga class based on the time of day and location—who had just nearly mowed down a mother and baby, ACCIDENTALLY of course but isn’t is all supposed to be about awareness??
What This Story Is Really About
I went home and told my husband. His response? "Why didn't you cross at the light?" Of course—because that would have been the smart, logical, practical thing to do.
I probably should have crossed at the light. But 14 years later, I'm still somewhat undone by this averted tragedy and what was literally shining in my face: the "DO YOGA" license plate and what appeared to be zero self awareness, zero community awareness. Even when we drive, we are participating in "community."
Had I broken the rules in jaywalking? YES. Would she have felt horrible had something happened? DOUBLE YES. But I wonder if she even knows? I wonder if ANY yoga people know when we become so self-consumed in our own wellness rituals that we miss what's happening right in front of us.
For me, this story sits at the intersection of the haves and the have-nots, of awareness and bypassing, of conscious practice that expands us or unconscious practice that isolates us, which is the primary question of what yoga really represents currently.
The Story I Almost Didn't Tell
The day after this happened, I sat down at my white laptop—the big bulky one that was super heavy—and posted about it on Facebook. This was back when people you actually knew saw your stuff. I wrote the story probably similarly to how I'm writing it here, 14 years later.
My friend Jocelyn, who had been an assistant teacher trainer to Baron Baptiste at my teacher trainings, commented and said how beautifully written it was. That I should submit it for a blog that she and some friends had started called “Recovering Yogi”—an early wave of people seeing some of the problems in the industry. I was so flattered that she liked my writing, but at the time, I couldn't see myself as a writer. I'm still working on that part transparently as always.
But here's the thing: I was also fearful that somebody at one of the Chicago studios would know who was driving that car. Chicago is big, but it's not THAT big. And with a vanity plate THAT specific I was genuinely afraid to be “cancelled” before we knew what being cancelled was!
This fear still exists in the wellness community, fear of being ostracized, fear of retribution in class sizes and schedules, fear of ones livelihood being impacted if you "say something" still kicks in. Because there's no HR department. There's nobody protecting you from being canceled. There's nobody protecting you from saying, "Hey, that was shitty" or “No, you can’t do that” and I’m not talking about how you drive now.
I never submitted that story. I kept quiet. I stayed small, but not anymore.
The Question That Haunts Me
As a former or "recovering" yoga person, how many times have I honked, been pissed, stolen a parking space, almost hit somebody on the way to a wellness class, hell even teach it much less take the class!? Listen, we're human. These things happen, yoga or no yoga. Jaywalking or no jaywalking, accidents and lack of care or awareness happens to us all when we are in a rush and desperate for the routine that brings relief albeit temporary. Sound familiar?
Really, h ow many times have you been rushing to class desperate for that momentary calm in Savasana, or that dopamine hit that helps you finish the day? Getting the physical release that creates feelings of spirituality, connectedness, even enlightenment that only temporarily gives the illusion of such feelings? And that's real on a scientific level—that sh*t HITS hard, and good!
But if when you rolled up your mat, all of that "good vibes" consciousness gets rolled up and tossed in the back seat with it until you roll it out again for an hour at your next class, what is it really doing for you? For us? For each other?
What Comes Next
I don't have the answers, but I do have a lot of stories and moments of reflection that I hope might help us course correct and connect again. Twenty two years worth of stories that since I've stepped away from teaching and I'm finally ready to share. And like the "recovering yogi"—and I know it’s hard to hear or can be "activating" for many people but it's just my truth and experience I am processing publicly at present, because that’s how I roll.
There's so much more to unpack about the industry, the people it draws, the financial realities teachers face, and the toxic positivity that pervades wellness culture. And now that I'm out, I'm free to have this conversation without fear of retribution. Free to ask the questions that matter and tell the stories that need telling.
Next week, I'll share my "Bullshit Detector Guide to Yoga"—because honestly, you should be as discerning when choosing teachers and spaces you practice in as you would be when buying that $75,000 car... is it safe, dependable, just for show, and does it represent how I want to roll in the world too?
Until then, remember: the yoga is in you. It's not something to be gotten. It's an idea, a vision, a goal—not something we just arrive at for one hour a day and be a yoga a**hole the rest of the day ok? And I say that with love.
XO,
Margo
This newsletter is part of a new series "Unraveling the Lotus"— a journey of a recovering yoga teacher turned writer. Haha. If this resonated with you, subscribe for more stories from the wellness trenches and get muddy with me. And if you're still rushing to yoga class, it's cool, it's cool… maybe just slow down on the drive there, and let someone else have the parking space at Whole Foods or Trader Joe's and see how that community feeling REALLY creates the "good vibes" as much or more than ay class could… for now…xo!