My Yoga Training Teacher Turned Out to be a Pornstar

200 hours of posers

Advertised as a 200-hour class to learn to teach Vinyasa with Steve Ross and Tom Morley at Maja Yoga Studio in Brentwood, I signed right up. At the time, I was trying to figure out a way to infuse some meaning into my life after my daughters went off to college.

Sure, I had a job, but my position as an educator in a toxic environment of bullying administrators and parents had me searching for a change.

I thought Yoga would do it.

Maha Yoga, where the training took place, used to be a popular yoga studio where celebrities like the Olsen Twins, Russel Simmons, Claire Danes, Helen Hunt, and other toned beautiful bodies shared downward facing dogs and triangle poses together to the upbeat mix of hip hop and rock and roll.

Billed as Happy Yoga, the “Guru to the Stars” owner Steve Ross had a show on Oprah’s Network for a while called “Inhale.” Because he studied theology in India and was a Vedic monk for four years, he seemed to most of us like the real deal — a man of knowledge and wisdom.

After all, he did chant alongside Krishna Das. He shared all this knowledge in his book, co-authored with Olivia Rosewood, Happy Yoga: 7 Reasons Why There’s Nothing to Worry About.

“Although some practitioners of yoga take themselves very, very seriously, the true goal of yoga is the permanent and unbroken awareness of the deepest joy and happiness possible…I unite music and yoga in an enjoyable way for people to experience yoga that transcends tradition, promotes joy, and serves as an adjunct for healing.” (Steve Ross)

Although the draw to the yoga studio was Steve Ross, other teachers also had their fair share of yoga groupies. One was Tom Morley, an instructor with long, tussled blond hair who always wore a white cotton linen outfit and smelled of eucalyptus massage oil. This should have been a sign that nothing is as it seems.

I didn’t pick up on it. Yes, I saw how he interacted with the young girls and asked them to go to his “pen” later. I just thought… I don’t know what I thought.

So I signed up for the teacher training. I studied hard and learned the dynamic flow of movement and breath. I learned how to teach and perform the asanas.

I learned the Sanskrit names the Surya Namaskar, the Bhujangasana, and the Virabhadrasana. I learned how to combine the various sequences and create a vinyasa flow.

All Cool.

Until the gossip started. “Tom Morley was Mr. X.”

“His retreats are in exotic locations to shoot porn.”

“Who the front door is Mr. X?”

I had no clue what people were talking about, if it was true or not, I found the whole thing amusing, and without proof of the accusations, I stayed on hoping to get my teacher training certificate.

After a few weeks, the class got smaller. Here are the graduates pictured below. I am the fool on the third tier, the third person to the right. Looks like we had fun, and we did learn a great deal. Happy Yoga.

After two months, the class was over. I requested my 200-hour Yoga certificate. Well… guess what? No certificate. According to Ross, the certificates were meaningless. Sure. Right.

Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Matthew 7:15

I was duped. I guess I was so insulated from raising daughters and teaching full-time that I missed the red flags. I didn’t believe the story of Mr. X until one of my journalism students wrote an article about the best yoga studios in Los Angeles, and Maha Yoga was on the list.

I pulled Saba, the writer, aside and asked if she had practiced at the studio.

“Oh, yeah. Twice a week. I’ve seen you there, Dr. C.”

“Really? I try to hide out in the back. Who is your favorite teacher?”

“Ross, of course, but I like Tom even though he’s a pervert.”

“Pervert?”

“Mr. X.”

“What do you know about Mr. X?”

“He’s a porn star, Dr. C.! Everybody knows.”

“What is rumor, and what is fact, Riley?”

“Um… we watched one of . . . um …”

“Geez. Seriously?”

“Research.”

“Do your parents know you’re taking a yoga class with a porn star?”

“My mom comes too, Dr. C.”

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry. We just go to the class. Besides, don’t you always say, ‘We all have different perspectives on life and to be objective, neutral, and unbiased regardless of our opinion or personal beliefs’?”

“Oh. . . yeah . . . sure . . .”

I stopped going to Maha Yoga and encouraged my female students to do the same. Maha Yoga shut down shortly after my experience.

Karma is a bitch.

I seldom practice yoga in a studio anymore after being a player in this Chaucerian tale. Yet, I, the overeducated feminist, was duped by the gap between reality and appearance.

Duped by the gap between spiritual yogi and hypocritical predatory behavior. Duped by the gestures of oneness with God and the doctrinal manipulation and self-serving interests.

Duped by my eagerness to want to belong to a yoga community.

Simply Duped: Namaste

Top Know Nothing Writer. Curiosity leads me through an Imelda Marcos labyrinth of way too many interdisciplinary degrees https://marycappelli.