Luminous Numinous

Yogi Bhajan, Yogi Bhajan, everywhere I turn it’s Yogi Bhajan. I’m kicking it with my best friend Alyne Rose–who studied to be a teacher of Kundalini Yoga– and who’s she yammering on and on about? Yogi Bhajan. I’m following up on one of my favorite books of the last few years—Rational Mysticism by John Horgan. I’m on the author’s webpage reading chapters that were left out of the book. And who does he say is the most enlightened person he’s ever met? It’s not Huston Smith or Stan Grof. It sure as hell isn’t Ken Wilber. It’s not even the late, great Terrence McKenna. Nope. Who is the one person that this Columbia educated journalist and former science writer for Time, Newsweek, Scientific American and the New York Times says might have been a fully realized human? You guessed it: Yogi Freakin’ Bhajan!

That’s not all. Oh no, there’s more. So, I’m researching Eugene, Oregon. I’m thinking about moving up there. I’ve applied to a doctoral program at the U of O. I’m reading up on Eugene, learning about the local flavor and culture. It seems that Eugene’s a hotbed for gurus and cult leaders. There was Ken Kesey with his acid tests and band of Merry Pranksters. Then you’ve got “anarcho-primitivist,” John Zirzan editor of Green Anarchy magazine. He lives in Eugene. But you want to guess what guru made the biggest splash in Eugene and still has a huge following there? Well I’ll be damned if it’s not that son of a gun, Yogi Bhajan.

Look, let me be clear. I have no problem with what Yogi Bhajan preaches or teaches. I have no problem with Sikhs (except for the guy  in the Fast Stop Market in Val Verde….and the guy who owns the Subway in Madera Ranchos; they’re assholes). I’m sure Kundalini Yoga is all that it’s cracked up to be and more. And I take no issue with Yogi Bhajan’s personal character in general or with his deeds and actions. I’m sure, on the whole, he was a a solid guy who did a lot of people a lot of good. No, my beef is with his name, “Yogi Bhajan.”  I think it’s manipulative. I think it’s a lingual gimmick to get Americans to trust in him and to buy into what he’s saying. By calling himself Yogi Bhajan, this character was tapping into the heart of what is sacred in America: baseball and cartoons. With this carefully chosen moniker, this Yogi Bhajan cat was neurolinguistically programming us to think that he was talented, witty, and loveable like the great Yogi Berra, arguably the best—and certainly the most quotable–catcher in this history of major league baseball. At the same time, the Yogi Bhajan pseudonym also triggers semantic centers in the brain that force us to consider him as being “smarter than the average” member of his species just like the great Yogi Bear, arguably the smartest Ursidae ever to steal a pick-a-nic basket in Jellystone National Park.

Look, you and I may know that the Yankees are a bunch of cheaters. We know all about the Kansas City pipeline that sent all of the best Athletics players to the Big Apple in ludicrously lopsided trades. We know how this put the Yankees on top financially. We know that, since there is no salary cap in baseball, that the rich, cheating Yankees have, in turn, been able to use their unfairly earned economic advantage to lure all the best players to New York (and force them to stay in New York. See: CC Sebathia) and thus, the Yankees stay on top forever. Sure, we might know this, but the average American loves the damn Yankees. They’re America’s team. Hell Americans are even referred to as Yankees. The Yankees stand for everything America stands for. They stand for capitalism and Wall Street. With those sharp pinstripes stretching vertically upward like Manhattan skyscrapers, the Yankees stand for industry and growth. Like America, they stand not for the dark horse, but for the frontrunner; not for the long shot, but for the sure thing. America stands for conquest and winning at all costs. America will napalm a village full of children if that’s what it takes to win, and the Yankees, too, would drop an atom bomb on Fenway Park, Citi Field, or Dodger Stadium if they thought they could get away with it. The Yankees, with their swastika-like logo stand not for the underdog, but for exterminating the under-dog.

But the common man is uniformed; he loves the Yankees because their winning is predictable. It’s something he can count on in a chaotic world. And because he loves the Yankees, the average Joe loves Yogi Berra. The average man understands the paradoxical poignancy, the non-dual knowing of Yogi Berra’s bromides. Berra uttered such wise witticisms as “It aint over til it’s over” and “baseball is 90 % mental and the other half is physical.” But Berra’s most quick-witted quote was surely “I really didn’t say everything I said.” Yogi was a Yoda amongst Jabas.

By playing on the first two syllables (and the third consonant sound) of Yo-gi B-erra, Yo-gi B-hajan is re-routing our neurocircuits and re-wiring our synapses to think that he, too, is so powerfully and poetically insightful. But that’s only half of his conniving scheme.

You and I may know that Yogi Bear isn’t “real.” But that doesn’t matter to the Kelly Bundys of the world (and there are more of them than you might think.) Yogi Bear exists as part of the noösphere, part of the collective unconscious; Yogi Bear has left an indelible morphogenetic imprint on our minds that, if Nick at Night has anything to say about it, may never be eroded. By utilizing the first two syllables (and the third consonant sound) of Yogi Bear in his alias, Yogi Bhajan is telling us that he is a bear that can outsmart humans! Since Yogi Bhajan is a human, we are only left with the natural conclusion that this is some sort of metaphor. In this analogy , are we not supposed to surmise that bears represent humans and humans therefore represent gods? Pick-a-nic baskets must stand for sacred secrets, don’t you see? Isn’t it clear to you that Yogi Bhajan is trying to tell us that he can steal secrets from the gods just as easily as Yogi Bear stole pick-a-nic baskets from Jellystone’s tourists? Well, even if it’s not clear to you, it’s clear to me.

Well, I’ve had enough, damn it. Why does it always have to be Yogi Bhajan all the freakin’ time? What about me? I want people to think that I am special. I want them to think that I am a mystic master. What does this Yogi Bhajan dude have on me? What’s he got that I don’t? What’s that you say? A clever, manipulative name that triggers people’s mental and emotional fondness for both the Yankees and the Cartoon Network? Well, hold your horses. Two can play at that game!

Henceforth and forever, I shall be known as…Mickey Mhajan! (I had considered going with “The Maha-Mickey-Mantle-Mahesh-Mouse,”  but decided that was a bit much.) That’s right, I, too, can play on the average man’s love for the Yankees and, at the same time,  his love for cartoons!

By borrowing the first two syllables (and the third consonant sound) from Mickey Mantle’s name, I am sending the message that I am a psycho-spiritual winner. I’m saying that I am not only a VIP, but the MVP. My new name says that I am a mystical hard-hitter; the hardest in fact. Not only can I “knock it out of the park,” yogically speaking, I can knock it 734 feet, baby. That’s enough to, tantrically, knock it out of two parks! My new name says that when the guru game is on the line and you need somebody to hit a walk-away homer, that I am the best in the business, bitches.

But I’m also stealing the first two syllables (and the third consonant sound) from that most recognizable of all anthropomorphic rodents—Mickey Mouse, who is more than a cartoon; he’s an icon. By choosing a name that sonically seduces your psyche with the first five sounds and seven letters of Mickey Mouse, I am programming you to think that I, Mickey Mhajan, am humble, happy, high-spirited, and even heroic.

And let’s not forget that Mickey Mouse is mighty mighty; he’s a much mightier mouse than, say, Mighty mouse. Mickey’s dominance resonates with the message I want to send as Mickey Mhajan: power!  As the mascot and trademark of the almost omnipotent Disney Corporation, Mickey Mouse, like Mickey Mhajan, is a force to be reckoned with. For, Disney, like the Yankees, like all great American corporations, and like America herself, isn’t afraid to play dirty in order to dominate. 

This article is playfully and apologetically dedicated to Yogi Bhajan, a truly great man with a great sense of humor; and to John Horgan;  Alyne Rose Keller;  Lyle Williams;  and Sgt. Jay Soccoccio, all of whom have, in different ways, served as my teachers.

To actually learn something useful about the venerable Yogi Bhajan or about Kundalini Yoga, click here.