S. by John Updike

esteem,
Shri Arhat Mindadali, M.A., Ph.D.
Supreme Meditator, Ashram Arhat
    /spw
    May 26, 1986
    Gentlemen:
    The large unpaid bill for six Lincoln limousines must be a deplorable clerical error. I have referred it to our chief accountant, Ma Prem Nitya Kalpana, who is unfortunately enjoying two weeks of uninterrupted meditation.
    With my generous blessings,
Shri Arhat Mindadali, M.A., Ph.D.
Supreme Meditator, Ashram Arhat
    /spw
    June 2
    Dear Irving—
    Just a quick Monday-morning note on my trusty office Selectric with its lovely augmented memory and magical erasurefeatures. I often think of you and assume that Midge has shared at least the gist of the tape I sent her it must have been three weeks ago. Time flies! Things hum along here, though the noon sun is getting so hot now the Master has decreed a siesta time from eleven-thirty to three. People were fainting in the fields, especially some of the girls who have been up half the night absorbing energy at the Kali Club.
    Your lessons have really stood me in good stead—a lot of the younger people have complimented me on how flexible I am. They run the Salutations to the Sun at a somewhat slower pace than yours, but then you were trying to fight flab on middle-aged matrons where here the Master is getting us in training for Sahasrara. The adept who supervises our group—Bhava, his ashram name is—
cruelly
emphasizes heels flat on the floor on the forward stretch and not only the throat bent way back but the tongue out just as far and hard as you can do. It hurts at first and feels embarrassing but is the very best thing for the thyroid and even the viscera apparently. Then, on the standard asanas, he likes you to do the Fish out of the lotus position, and the strain on the insides of the thighs is
agony
, plus the ache on the top of your head after a while. And on the Pashchimottanasana I really can’t come near touching my forehead to the floor no matter how wide I spread my legs. But Bhava
loves
my Plough, he says, and I must say it’s always been my favorite: with my knees pressed against my ears and my bottom straight up in the air I always feel so
cozy
, like I used to as a little girl hiding behind the sofa, so cozy and safe and absolutely
me
—I hold it to the point that when I close my eyes I get these things that I don’t know if they’re what they call visualizations but I do feel I’m in another world, or
just
on the verge of it. They like us to hold the asanas, except of course the Locust and the Bow, for fifteendeep breaths instead of the five you let us off with, you old softie. But some of the people, like this crybaby Vajna who’s in my group, just stop when they feel like it. There’s a lot of that kind of freedom here; nobody is “uptight.” Whatever we do is within the Master’s love, and that gives a great feeling of ease and suppleness. You should see me go into my headstand now—I absolutely
uncoil
and am up in about two big breaths, and using my elbows at the two other points, too, instead of the hands, which I could never bear to lift up before. Such a scaredy-cat! You were right—once you’ve found the zero point the trick is to
completely
relax your shoulders and you can go on upside-down forever. One tip, though—here they always follow the Cobra with the Locust and not the other way around the way you taught us. The Half-Locust (the Ardha-Shalabhasana) makes a very nice transition and the stretching in the abdomen doesn’t feel so violent then when you go into the Bow.
    But the main thing I want to scold you about, dear Irving, is—you never told us about Kundalini! I mean, not really. Just hints, and asking at the end of a session if we felt anything at the base of our spines. As if a bunch of middle-aged women full of coffee and bran muffins would be feeling anything much except plain relief at having stopped. The reason I’m so “into” Kundalini suddenly is—do tell Midge—it’s my name! My ashram name. At last I met the