Yoga Bootcamp

Each of the eight resident yogis has a different reason for moving to the rundown farmstead in the mountains. In its seemingly tranquil setting, they study and practice together under a charismatic swami who's a holy terror on occasion and warm fuzzy on others. There are many reasons to refer to him as Elvis or Big Pumpkin as well as Sri Swami Subramunya.
Their home at the edge of forests is better known as an ashram, though it's gaining a maverick reputation. As their guru insists, they're the worst hatha yoga outfit in the nation. Instead, they emphasize other aspects of yoga — meditation and selfless service, especially. Swami's methods and style are definitely unconventional, but they work, at least for those who submit. Aspiring to holiness includes cracking egos and discovering just how all-too-human they really are. Humility is one of the essential lessons. And, oh yes, the physical exercises aren't lost in the process. There's at least one class every day, and some less strenuous than others, depending on who's teaching.
As a rural retreat with overnight accommodations, the ashram welcomes guests who arrive for the weekend or intense week-long workshops. If they're expecting room service, they're in for a big surprise. Mixing tons of cement, shoveling manure, cleaning toilets and showers, and scrubbing floors and pots and pans are part of their training. And nobody sleeps late. If this is spirituality, it's also vitally down-to-earth, as well as back-to-the-land. Pay attention. These mystics are humorous rather than glum solemn. Well, all but one, but he's coming around.
Inevitably, some call the place a yoga boot camp, an intense immersion like the military training where recruits acquire essential survival skills and build teamwork. The ashram works to open each student to a more peaceful, harmonious world through self-discipline. Is it any wonder many keep coming back? As far as they're concerned, there's no other place on earth quite like it.