There’s a Philosophy professor down the hall from me. His name is Rich, and he’s 63 years old. He seems like a nice guy, but has a strange and obsessive fascination with…yoga.

Earlier in the term, Yoga Guy came into my office and asked me if I was also into yoga. I am, so I told him yes. I shouldn’t have done that.

First he interrogated me about what kind of yoga I practice. He was very disappointed that I do Hatha yoga, and insisted that in order to get the full benefits of the practice I should do Ashtanga yoga.

Every week, Yoga Guy gets more and more obsessed with yoga. The first thing he did was give me a business card for his Yoga Center, which is apparently run by “an authentic yogi.” This started a long conversation about how much he hates modern yoga teachers and that the only true way to achieve “enlightenment” is to learn yoga from a genuine yogi.

Then he started giving me gifts…mostly yoga catalogs with various props and “motivational” tapes. Every morning he asks me; “did you do a head-stand this morning?” Whenever I tell him no, he gets all upset and tells me that I should start out every day with a three minute head-stand in order to “clear the brain.”

A few days later, he came into my office and announced: “I have visited other planets.”

“Um…how did you manage that?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to know.

“Yoga,” he said, confidently. “I’ve mastered astral travel. I can leave my body. Do you want to see?”

Nervously, I said, “no…that’s all right, I believe you.”

He then tried to get me to go to a yoga retreat with him for three days. Apparently, all they do at the retreat is do yoga for nine hours a day, and they’re only allowed to eat seeds, berries, and roots. I think Prisoners of War have a better deal than that.

While all this was going on, my friend Glenn in the Business Department was standing in the hall, making frantic gestures for me to come out and talk to him. I ditched Yoga Guy and went out into the hall.

In a low voice, he asked: “You know the truth about Rich, right?”

“No,” I said, kind of baffled.

“He’s insane,” Glenn informed me.

Glenn then proceeded to tell me a long story about how, eight months ago, Yoga Guy attempted suicide. Apparently, he threw himself off of the roof of his three-story house and lived to tell about it. When asked by his doctor what made him attempt this, Yoga Guy cryptically responded: “Too much yoga.”

I was confused. What the hell is “too much yoga?” Exactly how much yoga is “too much?” As a practitioner of yoga myself, I wondered if I was doing “too much yoga.” Should I ask my doctor? My psychiatrist? My yoga instructor?

If this turns out to be my final blog entry, you’ll know that I succumbed to “too much yoga.” Please pray.