“You’re not doing your yoga exercise properly.”
We looked up with annoyance at the old Mexican gardener smiling through gold teeth at us. A gray black beard and long unkempt hair covered most of his face.
Both of us felt confident we had executed the relatively simple exercise, the cobra, with great skill o After all, we had just spent 15 months in the Orient on a quest which had taken us to Zen monasteries, Ch’an monasteries, and encounters with yoga masters.
And here, before us, on a football field in Southern California, was someone with the inconsiderateness not only to interrupt our spiritual practice, but also the audacity to criticize us.