Real Men Do Yoga: Stuart Getz
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Photo by Emily Voigtlander.
Next up in the Real Men Do Yoga series is Stuart Getz, the incredible owner at my home studio, Bikram Yoga Evanston. Stu is a man with a heart of gold, a dedicated Bikram yogi, and a talented musician with a wonderful sense of balance. His confidence and humility are inspiring, and his energy radiates throughout the studio.
Stuart has created a beautiful community at BYE. As you enter the lobby of the studio, you will find yogis chatting and getting to know each other or laughing over the moments in class they've just experienced. A teacher behind the front desk will welcome you, give you some pointers for class, get you ready for your 90-minute meditation.
Photo courtesy of Stuart Getz. Now that's an uncle that loves his niece.
Chances are, you'll find Stu hanging out with students or giving them advice on a posture or two. He could be jamming in his studio -- a cozy room near the Hot Box -- or catching up with some of the teachers. He might be posting a notice about an upcoming challenge or a reminder for how to be strong in and out of your yoga ("We don't sell cheesecake!").
Whatever he's up to, Stuart's got a big smile to share. He cares about his people, and he's created a magnificent family at BYE. An atmosphere of humility, peace, strength. An oasis in a world of pain, vice, and people who often forget that they can choose not to suffer.
Since its opening two years ago, Stu has stuck to the integrity of Bikram yoga. As he says in class sometimes, it's not his job to be your best friend; it's his job to push your buttons and help you do the yoga the right way.
Stuart is a wonderful teacher because he will give you the corrections you need to hear to improve your practice. He will love and accept you for who you are. And kick your ass. As he says, "Welcome to the posture!"
Stuart Getz is a Bikram yogi and studio owner. This is his story.
It's really quite beautiful how I came to practice Bikram yoga. As they say, "One door closes and another door opens."
I had just gone through a pretty horrific break-up with a woman I loved. The poor thing had revealed to me some really sad and troubling information about her childhood. I suggested she start talking to a therapist and offered to go with her to a few sessions to help her get started. After her second session, she thought it might be more helpful to start sleeping with her boss – a man who was 22 years her senior! This behavior with older men was nothing new to her. It was her addiction and had a direct correlation to her dysfunctional childhood.
I was completely distraught, not out of jealousy, but because I truly believed she needed a good ol' fashion intervention! When I approached her family, they ran as far away from me as they possibly could, more concerned with their humiliation from the revealing of family secrets than they with their daughter's wellbeing.
I was so close to all of them but sadly, they turned their backs on the right thing to do and headed right to the comfort zone of denial. Somehow, they perceived that I had become the abuser because I was bringing truth and light. They wanted nothing to do with it.
I never spoke to any of them again and they avoided me at all costs. They knew I knew the truth and they wanted nothing to do with either of us.
It was at this time that I began to understand one of Bikram’s favorite sayings. As
he says, "Would you rather suffer for 90 minutes or 90 years?" There aren’t words for how much it hurt to cut off all communication with a family I had loved, but I knew it was better than prolonging the misery.
At the same time some difficult revelations surfaced about my own family. My father – one of the finest men I have ever, or will ever, know – had made an absolute mess of his finances. As a talented and successful songwriter in the 1950s, my dad had enjoyed the excitement of the music business but struggled to secure the financial rewards it seemed to promise. Instead, he decided that the Massachusetts State Lottery was a perfect outlet for his frustrations, but like many others, he was very wrong. This was another opportunity to be humbled, greatly disillusioned, and most assuredly disappointed.
The sadness and surrender that life bestowed upon me was the perfect breeding ground for my entry into the yoga world. I found it amusingly ironic: here I was, caught in a world where if I surrendered any more of myself, I would have stopped breathing. And here in the experience of yoga, my life had arrived at its lowest common denominator: the breath.
Bikram Yoga was so challenging and so overwhelming that there was no room for ego or performance. I had none of that left in my life so I felt right at home. The core of this beautiful practice became my newly discovered foundation.
With my experience stripped down to just survival, there was no room for bullshit. In fact, integrity was the only thing that would propel me further in the practice. Ego would tell me to skip steps three and four of a posture and simply head right to five, but I didn't really "own" five. Without the foundation offered by three and four, five was nothing more than an impostor! A cheat. A lie. And a painful one at that, especially when my muscles weren’t ready to cut ahead. Something about this practice was able to teach me to take small steps toward great things, learning the patience and the precision involved in excellence.
I had just gone through a pretty horrific break-up with a woman I loved. The poor thing had revealed to me some really sad and troubling information about her childhood. I suggested she start talking to a therapist and offered to go with her to a few sessions to help her get started. After her second session, she thought it might be more helpful to start sleeping with her boss – a man who was 22 years her senior! This behavior with older men was nothing new to her. It was her addiction and had a direct correlation to her dysfunctional childhood.
I was completely distraught, not out of jealousy, but because I truly believed she needed a good ol' fashion intervention! When I approached her family, they ran as far away from me as they possibly could, more concerned with their humiliation from the revealing of family secrets than they with their daughter's wellbeing.
I was so close to all of them but sadly, they turned their backs on the right thing to do and headed right to the comfort zone of denial. Somehow, they perceived that I had become the abuser because I was bringing truth and light. They wanted nothing to do with it.
I never spoke to any of them again and they avoided me at all costs. They knew I knew the truth and they wanted nothing to do with either of us.
It was at this time that I began to understand one of Bikram’s favorite sayings. As
he says, "Would you rather suffer for 90 minutes or 90 years?" There aren’t words for how much it hurt to cut off all communication with a family I had loved, but I knew it was better than prolonging the misery.
At the same time some difficult revelations surfaced about my own family. My father – one of the finest men I have ever, or will ever, know – had made an absolute mess of his finances. As a talented and successful songwriter in the 1950s, my dad had enjoyed the excitement of the music business but struggled to secure the financial rewards it seemed to promise. Instead, he decided that the Massachusetts State Lottery was a perfect outlet for his frustrations, but like many others, he was very wrong. This was another opportunity to be humbled, greatly disillusioned, and most assuredly disappointed.
The sadness and surrender that life bestowed upon me was the perfect breeding ground for my entry into the yoga world. I found it amusingly ironic: here I was, caught in a world where if I surrendered any more of myself, I would have stopped breathing. And here in the experience of yoga, my life had arrived at its lowest common denominator: the breath.
Bikram Yoga was so challenging and so overwhelming that there was no room for ego or performance. I had none of that left in my life so I felt right at home. The core of this beautiful practice became my newly discovered foundation.
With my experience stripped down to just survival, there was no room for bullshit. In fact, integrity was the only thing that would propel me further in the practice. Ego would tell me to skip steps three and four of a posture and simply head right to five, but I didn't really "own" five. Without the foundation offered by three and four, five was nothing more than an impostor! A cheat. A lie. And a painful one at that, especially when my muscles weren’t ready to cut ahead. Something about this practice was able to teach me to take small steps toward great things, learning the patience and the precision involved in excellence.
Integrity allowed me to feel human again.
Integrity is rewarded in the practice of Yoga.
In Bikram, bullshit will kick your ass. It will not help you. I had found a new home.
Integrity is rewarded in the practice of Yoga.
In Bikram, bullshit will kick your ass. It will not help you. I had found a new home.
