Wholistic Fitness

Namaste Noble Warriors!

i can’t believe the Washington Post called me, “preachy,” yesterday.

am i “preachy” my noble warriors?

i guess i kinda am. i mean, i DID grow up as an Roman Catholic altar boy. i served

daily masses in front of hundreds of perfumed people sitting in missiletted pews

each day, every day from first grade to sixth. the Catholic church is not one to screw around

when it comes to places in which to pray. i ain’t talking adobe kivas dug into the ground

or a little puja table stuck into a thatched wall, no sireee! in order to forgive your sins, the

Catholic priest made it certain that you had to confess all your constant sinnery in huge

churches with vaulting ceilings seemingly supported by stained glass images of a well bloodied Christ.

remember, Jesus died for YOUR sins, you little punk! so you better shape up or YOU my little friend…

are going straight to hell in a pagan handcart! so, go home and tell your parents to give more money

next time during the Offering, okay?

seriously, i loved serving masses in my little Altar Boy Clothes. i even got so good at it that i was

elevated to be the Reader. the Reader, in case you do not know, is the guy or girl that reads

well edited passages from The Bible during certain key points throughout the Mass. i suppose that

got me okay with public speaking at an early age, even through my speech impediment (i had and still

have what is known as a Lateral Tongue Thrust. more on that in a later DL..it gets a little too sexy for this

column.)

after school, i sometimes had to serve funerals. yuck. my noble Sangha, please do this to feeble ilg after

i attain Mahasamadhi;

1) do not put my corpse anywhere NEAR a coffin

2) transport my corpse to New Mexico (Devotee Ananda knows where) chop off my limbs and hang them

onto Grandfather Pinion Tree (Devotee Ananda knows where) and let my corpse be food for Raven and Coyote.

3) thank you.

once i got home, sometimes i would play Priest with my little brother, Craig. i had a shoe box for an altar and

raisins and Kool-Aid for the Sacred Communion. Craig was both my (disgruntled) altar boy as well as my

congregation. he hated serving my stupid little masses, but loved eating the raisins. you can only imagine

his disappointment as he attended his First Communion and was served that tasteless flat Communion Host

instead of tasty SunMaid raisins he received in my church!

yep. that proves it.

your feeble coach is indeed preachy. oh well. if the Washington Post calls me preachy about fitness

i can live with that. my bodyfat has hovered around a very healthy and elite functioning

2.5% for the last 20 years. in a nation where our People are dying like fat flies from obesity…i figure

a little preaching from someone who walks his talk is okay.

here is a bit from alert DL reader and WF Student Bryan Hantman:

“Coach,

�Was just mixing up an Ilg Supreme for lunch when I checked out the DL.�

�

It’s such�a huge chi hit out here to have a review in the Washington Post.� An-other podium trip, I see!�

Now, if only one them yogi(ni)s over at Yoga Journal would review your book.

In sport and spirit,

– Student Bryan”

ENGAGED WF WARRIOR ACTION:

wanna help get those gym-scairdy cats at Yoga Journal to review TOTAL BODY TRANSFORMATION?

my agent sent them a review copy in January, they said they would review it in April. uh…it ain’t April

baby..

email the head editor and tell her that real American Yoga lies within the blend of both

barbell and baddha konasana….tell her that a little cardio mixed in with a forward fold is

wise…Wholistic Fitness is America’s indigenous yoga!

here is the contact:

http://www.yogajournal.com/email_staff.cfm?to=editorial

i bow to you,

your feeble coach