THE TALE #4 - My Body Talks...

I didn’t let my rather bizarre “crying experience” in class with Douglass keep me from my yoga teacher certification.  I continued to train passionately in Yoga…. and, I continued to cry.

Now hold it a second! 

Isn’t Yoga supposed to calm you down? Help you relax?  

My experience with Yoga soon evolved into the exact opposite. 

It seemed like in every class I took, at some point in time, I would break into disconnected tears.  My body would sob as I simply witnessed. 

I soon began to notice a pattern. The biggest “cries” would occur when I was stretching my hip flexors.  The Hip flexors start on your upper leg and connect through your pelvis to your lower spine.  It was almost as if my hip flexors were a direct line to my unconscious.

As many of you know, in the Yogic tradition, they say that there are 7 Chakras or ENERGY WHEELS in the body.  The seven chakra are aligned more or less along our spinal cord.   When I first started to experience my disassociated sobbing, I researched the chakras to see if I could learn something that might help.  My hips flexors literally passed thru the second chakra SVADISTHANA. 

This is what I discovered.  

SVADISTHANA is related to our sensing abilities, inner child issues and issues related to feelings. 



Now to be honest , I am not one of these crazed Yoga disciples who automatically believe everything that they read and are taught. Probably, because of my background in Personal Training, during my Yoga training I questioned everything until I could experience validity or a reality to it.  At this point in my story, I had been a personal trainer and fitness instructor for over 20 years. My “body” belief system was this: The body consists of muscles and bones, organs, blood and nerves.  


If there are Chakras, ...  show me one!! 


It was May 2003, a Wednesday night.  I was taking Yoga class taught again by Douglass Stewart.  We were coming to the hip opening section of the class, and I SO DIDN’T WANT TO CRY because I had been crying for MONTHS, but I decided that if I did begin to cry, I wouldn’t resist it, I would go into it, ask questions, try to learn more.

 As I breathed into the hip opener, (ankle to knee asana) I started to shake a little, and then in a tidal wave of disassociated angst, the sobbing began. My head started to shake softly side to side as tears sprang from my eyes.

“What is all this about?”  I asked my body.  “Did someone do something to you?   What happened?  Did someone do something to you?  Who did this?”

And then, (I tremble as I write this,) I HEARD a little voice from deep inside my body:

“It was Grampa.  Grampa Wolf.  He did it. He did it.”

I pulled out of the posture, stunned.   I quickly lay down on my back on my mat, and quietly wept, hoping that no one in the class would see me.

“It was Grampa.  Grampa Wolf.  He did it. He did it.”


My Grandfather came to America from Germany in the 1940’s. He lived with my Grandmother Katrina and his son Henry (my father), in Astoria Queens.  To my knowledge, he worked as a waiter at the Glen Isle Casino and other places in the Metropolitan area. He was an alchoholic. He died of a stroke when I was 4 years old.

I have only one memory of him. He wore Dentures.  

He would take them out of his mouth and chase me and my older brother Mike around the house saying that he was going to bite us.  

After my grandmother passed away in 1989, my siblings and I went to her apartment in Astoria to go through her stuff, take the things that we wanted and give away the rest. 

I took nothing, except for…

Grampa’s dentures.  Gramma had kept them for over 26 years.  

Why I took them, I have no idea.


“Grampa, what did you do? 


What the fuck did you do?”

Ken WolfComment