Review: Jeffrey Cohen of Jivamukti Yoga Charleston

I sit in the back of the room in sukhasana, observing the other students and staff as they mill about before class. The walls are lavender and blank for the most part. The focal point in the room is a modest altar with pictures of various teachers and figures of deities. A coconut and a peach are offerings next to a stick of burning incense. I’m not quite sure who the instructor is, mostly because nearly everyone greets me with a warm smile and rather intense eye contact, which leads me to believe the instructor could be any one of them! But then, like the heat before a thunderstorm, I know.

The reason why I know is because his gaze is inward, as if he is looking into himself and observing the lesson which he hopes to manifest for those in attendance. His gait is loose and he leans forward just slightly into each step, as if he can touch the thought that passes behind his eyes. Strangely enough, he reminds me of Morpheus in The Matrix, passing through a crowd of many people and never touched, never phased. Everyone in the room chats lightly, embracing and smiling and laughing. No one disturbs him and it seems to suit.

His name is Jeffrey Cohen. He and his wife Andrea are directors of Jivamukti Yoga Charleston and they have effectively created a center where yogins and yoginis come for incredible asana instruction and also fellowship that is rather reminiscent of my personal experience in the Christian church. There are documentary screenings that increase animal rights awareness and vegan potlucks that reinforce communal (and dietary) ties. Jeffrey and Andrea offer more than a handful of classes each week for only $5, which is hard to beat when the typical drop-in rate for any Charleston yoga studio will be around $12.

The topic for this evening’s class is mulabhanda, literally translated as “root lock”. It is basically a Kegel exercise, but Jeffrey insists that it is much more. He breaks the ice, admitting how absurd it is for a yoga instructor to ask his students to squeeze their anuses and we all share a laugh. Mulabhanda is actually our greater intention for our practice. It is the source of our service to the world and to everyone around us. When all else fails, mulabhanda. When we lack the strength to go on, mulabhanda. When we run into someone and the small talk is driving us up a wall, mulabhanda.

Jeffrey guides us through a series of fundamental poses, but reinforces the need for the root lock. In adho mukha svanasana, he says, “Mulabhanda!” In a forward fold, he declares, “Mulabhanda!” And we are all starting to understand because without it we are distracted by the people around us and sometimes get caught up in performing the postures instead of manifesting them authentically. Jeffrey asks rhetorically, “Do you see how much easier it is when you engage it? The hamstrings release even more with mulabhanda!” He invites us to let mulabhanda become a specific intention for a practice, a word that represents our service to the world.

My word is heal.

Immediately, tears well up in my eyes as Jeffrey says, “When you cannot hold mulabhanda anymore, at least hold the intention. Hold onto that word. This is your service. This is your self.” My mulabhanda is so weak. I can hold it only for a span of breath at a time, so I cling desperately to my word: heal. Through every chaturanga and every adho mukha svanasana, I think of all the people who I want to see healed. I see myself, longing to be healed. I see a world that needs to be healed. I glide between weeping and sighing in delight with every posture. I am praying and crying out to God inside my heart because I want to see each and everyone of us healed. The asana practice is truly a blur in hindsight. I only remember a handful of words, a thimble full of images. All I can hear is mulabhanda and in my heart, all I can hear is heal.

The name Cohen means “priest”. Throughout the history of Judaism, the priest offers sacrifices on behalf of a body of people in order to reconcile man to God. Jeffrey might not wear a yarmulke, but he certainly seems to live up to a priestly component of his family name. He uses this concept of mulabhanda to reunite a body of people to their calling in life, to reconnect them with a lost sense of self that bears less ego and more compassion. What would seem like a meaningless genital exercise becomes an opportunity for this group of some thirty or so people to remember that they are not separate from the world around them, but are actually woven into its framework to steward it. This class is not just a physical workout; it’s like a call to repent, to turn away from the violence of selfishness and press against an identity that belongs to a greater whole and serves it.

Jeffrey’s Strengths: