Michael considers his childhood fairly normal. Like any other kid, he graduated from high school and went to college. At Rutgers University he majored in Biology and minored in Anthropology. For his senior thesis, he traveled to the East African rain forest; in the jungle, amidst mountain gorillas and chimpanzees, Michael perfected the yoga poses illustrated in a study manual a friend had recommended. The manual, written by Bryan Kest, expressed the aim of power yoga to find moderation. Kest, accredited with the derivation of power yoga from ashtanga yoga in the eighties, describes yoga as “a lifestyle that focuses on quality, not quantity.” Or as a means to “view our relationship with our bodies, our hearts, and our relationships with the people around us, as well as on this planet.” Thus in the jungle, with Kest’s manual in hand, Michael expanded upon his childhood memories. Finally, he knew what to call all his mother’s awkward teachings and body contortions.
Despite his enlightening African adventure, Michael proceeded upon the path of normalcy he had begun, securing a job in the pharmaceutical industry. His path, however, took an unexpected turn eight years ago when a tractor-trailer barreled into his car, shattering his femur, breaking and arm, shattering his jaw, and sending him into a coma. The doctors predicted he’d never make it and prepared his family for the worst. Imagine their astonishment and bliss when Michael awoke after two days. Attached to a catheter, unable to move or speak, Michael thought, “Shit, life is over.”
Michael’s life was far from over. It was just beginning. With daily physical therapy, he progressed rapidly and defied the doctor’s pessimistic expectations. They said he’d need a wheelchair. Once he advanced to crutches, they said he’d never walk without a cane. Once he threw away the cane and began biking to and from therapy, they were speechless. Despite doctors warning him to be cautious, Michael decided to take the chance; he ditched the bike and hopped on a plane to Santa Monica, California where Bryan Kest, his far-off mentor, resided.
A series of bizarre coincidences ensued. Kest and Michael “clicked.” In class, Kest placed Michael adjacent to a man with a prosthetic leg. “Here I am bitching and moaning about my limp!” Michael realized. Thankful, he “shut his mouth” and pushed himself harder. Soon his limp would disappear. His flight home would be cancelled and he would miss a slew of important Monday morning meetings at work. He’d shock his friends at the New Jersey airport, walking toward them as an unrecognizable limp-less being and they’d ask, “What happened to you in California, Michael?”
Whether it was the yoga, the beach, or the small magic Tibetan beads a beach romer had given him, Michael arrived home a new man. He was physically and mentally fit, ready to “refine what was going on” and begin teaching yoga.
Today, Michael wears a long-sleeved t-shirt covered in Buddhist symbolism and cut-off jean shorts. With shoulder-length curly hair and Birkenstocks, it’s hard to picture him a decade ago, clad in a lab coat with hair in a braid. “You see, when things happen in a certain way, there’s always meaning to it” Michael whispers, glancing up from his cup of black coffee with his non-shalant knowing grin.
Anne Ferrer is the youngest of two
brothers residing in Connecticut. A graduate of Princeton
University as an Art and Archaeology major, Anne pursues her carerr at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New
York and researching the life of Jackson
Pollock. She is an avid skier, runner,
traveler, and a dedicated practitioner of yoga with
Michael!
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Yoga Class Information
More from Michael
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Open Flow Yoga the Philosophy
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Off the Mat words from Michael
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Jñãna Yoga coming Spring 2015
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Audio & Video for Home or Away
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YogaDogs Balance the Animal
Connect with Michael
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