We, The Yogic People.

Most young lawyers, if they’re lucky, will have a mentor to help them navigate the sometimes tumultuous waters of the legal field. Someone to help with the uncertainties inherent in such a demanding career. Someone to be available to answer questions when the young lawyer is faced with his/her first lawsuit. Someone to say, “Yes, of course, I’d be more than happy to try the case for you while you watch and learn,” only to drop you off at the courthouse steps moments before the start of trial with, “Okay, just kidding, you’re on your own!” as he speeds off, laughing hysterically, headed for a nice coffeeshop to sit and relax while you (hopefully, prepared) try your first case on your own.

I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful mentor who never left me on the courthouse steps. In fact, the day I entered the courtroom to try my very first case, he was with me every step of the way. When I nervously began pulling my papers apart and sent my binder clip flying across the courtroom and anxiously watched it land inches away from the judge’s face, he was the one who coolly strolled toward the bench and picked it up for me.

He was the king of cool; a seasoned litigator for 30-odd years with a big, booming southern gentleman’s voice that filled the courtroom like a train does when it enters a tunnel. When he spoke, people couldn’t help but listen. His commanding presence, charisma, and quick thinking elucidated both reverence and fear, depending on which side of the case you were on.

My mentor knew when not to talk too. For one case in particular, he did not want to create the appearance in front of the judge that our legal team was “beating up on” the other side, so he suggested it would be best for me to do all of the talking as I was, in his words, a “slight woman with a non-threatening voice.” He then drove his point home by adding, “After awl, Suuzaaan, you can’t take in a cannon to do the jawb of a rifle.”

On another case, opposing counsel was an attorney younger than me who had only recently graduated from law school. I still remember the twinkle in my mentor’s eyes when he leaned back, folded his hands atop his balding head, and asserted, “He’s a young one, Suuzaaan, life just hasn’t beaten him down enough yet. That’s okay. We can do that for him.” I recall that we did teach him a few lessons and he taught us some as well. And, although I’m not practicing law full-time anymore, I am still able to apply my mentor’s pithy aphorisms to other areas of my life and, sometimes, his words pop into my head without me even thinking about it.

During a volunteer teaching engagement last year for Justice Teaching, I led a group of 5th grade students through an exercise based on the Bill of Rights. The kids were delighted and enthusiastic to learn about the U.S. Constitution, one of the greatest documents in the world. They were so excited – jumping out of their seats to shout out what they thought each right meant.

“What does freedom of speech mean?” I asked.

“The right to say whatever we want!” they screamed.

“What does it mean to be free from cruel and unusual punishment?” I asked.

“It helps so people don’t beat us up!” one shouted.

“What is the right to bear arms?” I queried.

[Crickets chirping…]

Finally, one particularly adorable little boy threw his arm up in the air and yelled, “I know! I know! The right to hug people!”

So cute, right? How could I tell him he was wrong? I guess you could hug someone with a gun in your hand, but I’m not sure that’s what the founding fathers had in mind. My first thought was reminiscent of what my mentor said when referring to the young lawyer, “Life just hasn’t beaten him down enough.” One of William Blake’s central themes is the transition from innocence to experience – a path fraught with challenges and painful lessons. The innocence of this student’s statement was so poignant. He seemed like the young lamb from Blake’s poem, associating arms with hugs instead of with guns.

I let him know what the real intent of the amendment is, but assured him that hugging people was a wonderful practice and something he should definitely continue to do (with consent, of course). However, I just don’t think this young student was necessarily wrong. How do we know the founding fathers didn’t have a hidden yogic agenda? Perhaps they would be pleased by this young scholar’s interpretation of their masterful text. I think this kid was on to something. You see, the Bill of Rights, when studied and contemplated carefully, actually does enumerate corresponding yogic rights with many of the literal rights. And, I think my mentor would agree. I’ve listed them here for your convenience.

“The Yogic Bill of Rights”

Literal right: Freedom of speech.
Yogic right: The right to chant.

Literal right: Right to bear arms.
Yogic right: The right to hug people.

Literal right: Right to legal counsel.
Yogic right: Attorneys can practice yoga too.

Literal right: Right to protection from cruel and unusual punishment.
Yogic right: Right to practice ahimsa.

Literal right: Freedom of the press.
Yogic right: The right to push down on your sticky mat.

Literal right: Right to jury trial.
Yogic right: The right to have fellow yogis critique your poses if you wish, without the need for mediation.

Literal right: Freedom of religion.
Yogic right: The right to connect with spirit.

Literal right: Right to peaceably assemble.
Yogic right: The right to do yoga in a group setting.

Literal right: Protection from self-incrimination.
Yogic right: The right to remain silent and not be pointed at if you pass gas mid-pose.

Literal right: Right to protection from unreasonable searches and seizures.
Yogic right: The right to leave your yoga bag during class knowing that no one with rifle through it.