living abroad

The Heart Is the Major Target—Part 5: Yoga Is My Second Child

The fifth part of my interview with yoga teacher Charu Rachlis picks up with her move away from Berkeley’s Nyingma Institute. She describes falling in love, giving birth to her daughter, and meeting key mentors on her path to becoming a yoga teacher.

Sarah: Tell me about moving on from the institute. Where did you go?

Charu: I felt I needed to be out in the world, but I didn’t want to go back to Brazil. I told my friend Sue, another student at the institute, that I was ready to move out and get a job. She said, Look no further; my mother needs someone to take care of her. We can pay you in cash. So I moved out, into the basement of a house on Harmon Street in Berkeley with two Polish friends who left the institute at the same time as I did. I worked Thursday nights through Monday mornings taking care of this wealthy 94-year-old woman. Her name was Mrs. Medway. She was a lovely, funny lady from Chicago, who was losing her short-term memory. She’d ask, What is it that you do for a living? I’d say, I take care of old people. She’d say, Oh, they must love you. She would tell me the same stories over and over.

At some point I started feeling very tired of that. I told my housemates I needed to be with people my age and have some fun. One of them said, Why don’t you come with us to this group that meets in Tiburon on Thursday nights? They explained to me that the group focused each week on an aspect of relationships. The attendees broke into little groups, shared with one another, and then meditated. Then a therapist who led the group would play wonderful music and everyone would dance together. I said, sure, I’ll go. My friend Sue, Mrs. Medway’s daughter, said she would stay with her mom while I went and that I could even borrow her car. Later on, I found out that it was an Osho Rajneesh group, but at the time I had no idea.

So anyway, I go with my friend to this beautiful house in Tiburon. When I walk in I see this really cute guy. I mean, there were lots of beautiful young people there, but I saw him. He invited me out. That was my future husband, Sahajo. We’ve been together from that moment to this day—almost 25 years.

With mentor Thomas Michael Fortel.

With mentor Thomas Michael Fortel.

Sarah: You’ve written about your relationships with yoga teacher Thomas Michael Fortel and meditation teacher Leslie Temple Thurston. Tell me about these relationships and how they helped you further develop your practice.

Charu: I went with my roommate from the Nyingma Institute to her friend’s birthday party. The friend turned out to be Thomas, and from that point forward we developed our own friendship based on a mutual passion for self-inquiry. I started taking taking yoga classes from him and he mentored me. Later on, when he moved to Big Sur, he invited me to take over all his classes at Mindful Body. That was the beginning of my career. From then on he continued to open doors for me, inviting me to teach with him at Esalen, as well as in Europe, Alaska, and Mexico. So I have eternal gratitude for him.

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I met Leslie later, in 1994, after I’d left the institute. I attended a darshan that she offered. A darshan is an ancient Indian practice in which a teacher transmits love and peace to their students. I felt an instant connection with Leslie. In 1996 I enrolled in her four-year teacher training program, which focused on non-duality. At that time I was just starting out as a yoga teacher. Like Thomas’s mentorship, Leslie’s training opened my heart. and deepened my studies and practices.

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Sarah: Can you briefly explain non-duality for people not familiar with that concept?

Charu: We live in a dual world in which everything is characterized by binaries: good/bad, right/wrong. To study non-duality is to investigate the aspects of life that are not at the extremes and not rigidified. It’s to see the grey shades between the black and white.

Sarah: Thanks. So you started this training in 1996.

Charu: Yes. I was pregnant at the time. I have always loved the fact that in the same period in which I gave birth to my daughter, I also gave birth to my vocation as a yoga teacher.

In fact, I wanted to have another kid but I didn’t get pregnant again. I came to see this as a divine plan. Yoga is my second child.

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Getting started as a teacher wasn’t easy, though. I was very timid in the beginning. And it was difficult financially because we had no money for nannies. But Sahajo supported my decision to teach. Little by little, it all worked out..

If you had told me when I was 20, during my dark night of the soul in Brazil, that I would become a yoga teacher later in life, I would have said, I think you’re crazy! It took a long time to find who I was. But at one point an astrologer read my chart and said, Everything will come later for you than for everyone else; don’t compare yourself. I was 39 when I started teaching.

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Next: The Heart Is the Major Target—Part 6: Grab the Right Computer File

The Heart Is the Major Target—Part 4: Wow, This Is Me

In the fourth part of my interview with yoga teacher Charu Rachlis, we discussed her years living, working, and engaging in intensive Buddhist practice at the Nyingma Institute in Berkeley, punctuated by a return to Brazil.

Sarah: What was life like at the Nyingma Institute?

Charu: Karma yoga, which is what they practice there, is about hard work and working through your resistence to work. You watch yourself, your mind, your emotions. You watch time. Everything you do all day long is considered an opportunity for practice. I started each day with prostrations.

Charu at Nyingma Institute.

Charu at Nyingma Institute.

Sarah: Can you briefly explain prostrations—their purpose and how they are done?

Charu: A prostration is a devotional ritual that engages the body, mind, and spirit. You chant a mantra such as om mani padme hum, and hold an intention while you physically prostrate yourself. You can go all the way down so you’re lying face down on the floor and then come all the way back up to standing, or you can go halfway, or whatever is right for your body. I stopped doing them daily after I left the institute because sun salutations became my form of prostration—although lately I’ve been doing traditional prostrations for a few minutes at the end of my yoga practice on behalf of my mom, who’s been sick, and on behalf of the world.

But while I lived at the institute I did 108 prostrations each morning, focusing on body, breath, and spirit. During the day I worked for the institute’s printing press, Dharma Enterprises in Oakland. The press had a commercial branch and a sacred-books branch. The commercial branch, which had a regular paid staff, generated the funds that allowed the press to publish sacred books, which were labor intensive but not a money maker. After I’d been there a short time they put me in charge of the sacred books and gave me a staff of several people. I worked 13– to 14–hour days, inhaled toxic fumes from the printing press, lifted heavy boxes, got so many paper cuts. I gave my soul, and literally, my blood! Then I’d come home, have dinner—I always looked forward to the delicious vegetarian meals that were served—and then go to class. The instruction was focused on helping us deal with our relationship to work and all the emotional patterns that working such long hours can trigger. We’d study a particular topic—for example, time, space, and knowledge, or skillful means—for a week or so, and we’d apply the insights from the instruction to how we were doing our jobs. We also met individually with the teachers. They wanted to check in with us, see how we were developing, how we were dealing with the inevitable challenges of working that hard. In our studies we were dealing with a lot of big words and concepts in English, which was a language I was still learning. So in my limited time off, I focused with great intention on learning English, always paying attention to new words and looking them up in the dictionary, and asking my American friends to correct my speech. I was really hungry to learn this new language. It was like I turned off my Portuguese. I wanted to embrace my new life in the States, and English was the doorway.

Sarah: It sounds like the institute was getting a damn good deal.

Charu: They were.

Sarah: Is there anything about the experience that, looking back, you wish had been different?

Charu: No. I’d do it all again. I felt the whole experience was meant to strengthen me, and it did. It was too much for some people, and they left quickly. But it was one of the most powerful, transformative times of my life. I was depressed and insecure when I arrived, and I grew so much in my time there. And I got incredible feedback from my teachers. I thought, Wow, this is me, I’ve never seen myself like they’re describing me. I learned that I have an incredibly strong capacity to focus and deliver more than what is asked of me.

Don’t get me wrong—it was a very challenging experience for me on every level. I had to go through a lot of resistance—self-doubt, self-pity. One project at the institute involved building 108,000 padmasambava statues that were going to be placed at stuppas on a farm in Odiyan—a retreat center in Sonoma County that is not open to the general public. Sometimes after a long day at the printing press we’d be invited to help out with making the statues. In addition, I found a lot of the people in the community to be very shut down, compared to Brazilians, who are so expressive. I felt isolated and cried a lot. There were moments when I was on the verge of breakdown. Yet at the same time, I made wonderful friends. The Laotian immigrants who worked for the commercial side of the press were very warm. They laughed a lot  and brought delicious food to share with one another at lunchtime, and they would invite me to join in. They were a very loving community. I felt nourished by them; they reminded me of Brazilian culture in a way. I also learned that I could be myself when I met with the teachers one-on-one; I could share with them how challenging the experience was for me.

Charu with one of her teachers at Nyingma Institute.

Charu with one of her teachers at Nyingma Institute.

Overall, my time at the institute taught me how to express myself honestly and speak up for myself. After leaving Brazilian culture, where I had felt so stifled, coming to the States was a chance to discover myself fully.

And I thought Berkeley was the most beautiful, magical place. The institute is right next to the Greek Theater and the university campus. It was a totally different world than anything I’d ever experienced. In my time off from work, I would go to a café and have a cup of coffee and a pastry and then walk miles through campus and down the streets with their beautiful old houses. I knew where every public bathroom was because I would walk all day long. Brazilians will know exactly what I mean when I say I wasn’t used to this life at all.

Sarah: How long did you stay at the institute?

Charu: The first time I was there, I stayed for a year and a half, fulfilling the commitment I’d made. They wanted me to stay but I needed to be with my family again for a while, and I needed a break from the hard work, the loneliness, and the language barrier. It felt like I had been on a sabbatical and I needed to get back to the “real world.”

Sarah: Did you return to the secretarial job?

Charu: No. My family and friends thought I was crazy because most Brazilians would kill for that job. But I was not the same person I had been and I was not about to compromise the new discoveries I was making about myself. So I had no intention of going back to that job. I really needed time for integration.

Returning to Brazil was quite difficult. After that first period at the institute, during which I had worked so hard, I had held the illusion that in Brazil I would have more fun, have boyfriends, go out dancing, all of which I craved at that point. But those three years back in Brazil did not turn out like I had pictured. I was very depressed. I felt I did not belong there any longer. I was a fish out of water. Quite a strange time.

Then, after three years or so, the institute invited me back. I saw that things weren’t working out for me in Brazil, and I knew that if I went back to the institute I could make it work for myself. So I said yes. This time I structured it differently—I made it clear that I wanted to focus on making sacred books and on my studies, and not on commercial printing, although I did still help out with that sometimes.

Sarah: How long did you stay that second time?

Charu: I stayed almost two years. Then I decided it was time for me to move on. I felt that if I didn’t leave at that point, I never would.

Sarah: Why do you say that?

Charu: Because you have all your needs met there—room, board, education, friends, community, and a tiny stipend. But that’s not the life I wanted for myself. I was appreciative and grateful but I needed to venture out. The institute staff were very upset when I announced my plans—they really appreciated my skills and my devotion. But I stuck to my decision.

Next: The Heart Is the Major Target—Part 5: Yoga Is My Second Child

The Heart Is the Major Target—Part 3: In Exile in My Own Country

In the third part of my interview with yoga teacher Charu Rachlis, she describes jettisoning promising careers in psychology and theater, discovering meditation, and reaching the decision to move to the U.S.

In Exile in My Own Country

S: Where did you go to college and what did you study? 

C: I attended Universidade Gama Filho in Rio de Janeiro and majored in psychology.  

S: What if anything do you feel you gained from that experience? 

C: It expanded my horizons. I took classes in psychotherapy, philosophy, sociology, and anthropology. I’ve always liked to study subjects related to body-mind-spirit.

College graduation night. Charu is in bottom row, second from left.

College graduation night. Charu is in bottom row, second from left.

S: Did you ever practice as a psychotherapist? 

C: After I received my college degree, two friends and I started a career counseling service in Rio de Janeiro. We called it Orienta Servicos Psicologicos. We administered psych tests and used the results to help people choose professions. I did that for about 2-1/2 years. But given how young I was, I didn’t think I had enough life experience to be advising people. After a few years I broke down. I cried and cried and told my friends I liked providing a service but didn’t feel authentic doing it. 

I dropped that. My family was upset with me for quitting. I ended up working in the television industry, like the rest of my family. I did production, scenery, casting. But it was a hard, depressing period. Eventually I quit that work too. I was kind of floating, which concerned my family. 

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My father had friends who worked for an insurance company that was half-public, half-private. It provided good benefits. He said, why don’t you take the placement test? I did, and I passed. I ended up working there for six years as a secretary. I earned a good income, so I was able to work part-time. At first I was taking acting classes in the evening. I attended the best acting school in Rio de Janeiro—and it was not cheap. It was a very rigorous program. If you studied there, you had to give it everything you had. I didn’t have enough time to study in the way that I wanted to without falling behind at work.  

I stopped after two years. The teachers tried to convince me to stay. They said, You have real talent; you could be an actress. And I knew I was good at acting, but I also saw that I wasn’t willing to do whatever it took to keep studying. I decided I wasn’t meant to become an actress.  

Looking back, though, I see that acting helped me later as a yoga teacher. Despite what you might think from seeing me teach, I’m quite shy, and all that improv, singing, and dancing taught me how to be in front of a group of people. 

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My secretarial job allowed me to pay the bills, but it didn’t satisfy me. A psychologist friend told me about a meditation course taught by a visiting Tibetan Buddhist from Berkeley’s Nyingma Institute. I was intrigued, because I’d always been fascinated by how we can transform ourselves and become more authentic. I took the course. I thought, this is everything—meditation, Tibetan yoga, lots of introspection. 

After almost a year, I told my meditation teacher I wanted to keep studying. He said, We’re inviting people to study at the Nyingma Institute. It’s a work exchange; we offer room and board, and we’ll pay for half of your plane ticket. It’s a year-and-a-half commitment. I said, OK. A big doorway opened up for me in that moment. I didn’t quit my job at that stage but I took a leave of absence. 

S: How did your family react to the idea of your going to live in the US? 

C: Oh my gosh, it was a big drama. I had some Buddha statues in the apartment where I was living at that time, and my mom took them and threw them in the trash.  

My dad had passed away by then. We had been close. We both loved books and reading, and he had always told me I was a dreamer. But aside from the pull of that relationship, even though I loved my family, I didn’t feel like I belonged in Brazil. I felt like an exile in my own country. If my dad had remained alive, I don’t know if I would have felt the freedom to leave everything behind like that and take on the world. But being invited to Berkeley so soon after his death felt like a sign that it was time to go.

Next: The Heart Is the Major Target—Part 4: Wow, This Is Me

Managing to Build Bridges - Part 8: Do We Want to Be Right in a Dictionary Sense?

Nani has a gift for entering others’ cultures in a respectful and sensitive way. That gift, combined with her strong curiosity and sense of adventure, has led to a unique trajectory from her childhood in Indonesia to her current job as a project manager at LinkedIn. In Part 8, Nani reflects on the goals and challenges of translation and the ups and downs of working abroad.

Sarah: Is “linguist” a fancy name for “translator”?

Nani: Yup. My primary role was to translate and localize content into Indonesian in preparation for the launch of the Indonesian version of LinkedIn. It’s very interesting work to me because it requires awareness of contextual issues. For example, let’s say we want to point a user to the home page. You can’t use the Indonesian word for “home, ” or “rumah,” because that literally means “house.” I decided to use “halaman utama,” which means “primary page.”

Sarah: Tell me about the challenges involved in translation work of that type.

Nani: One challenge was that by the time I got the job at LinkedIn, I’d lived in the States for a long time. I still spoke ‘90s Indonesian. As I grappled with that challenge, lot of things I’d learned in my linguistics courses as an undergrad became real to me. Because of that training, I remembered to step back and ask myself: What is our objective with this translation? What factors should be considered in arriving at the best translation? Indonesian is much more fluid than English. There are often two or more ways to spell one word. There’s the official listing in the government-sponsored dictionary, but that’s different from the spelling people use in daily life. Besides spelling, there are all sorts of issues such as degree of formality and influences of regional languages in Indonesia—for example if you’re addressing elders versus younger people; ways of speaking between people in big cities versus not; and of course the nuances of language on more than 17,000 islands that are part of Indonesia. Even if you try to come up with the lowest common denominator for a particular term, it still won’t necessarily do the work you need it to do.

I tried to fold all these nuances into my translation work. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m seen by the Indonesian translation community as a hard person to work with, because I often challenged the external translators I was managing.

I once applied for a position at a different tech company, and part of the application process was to take a test, translating English into Indonesian. Surprisingly, I did not do well. But because the company I applied for had a policy of transparency, the hiring manager told me how the test was evaluated. It turned out the reviewer was evaluating my work based on what’s officially correct in Indonesian language, but not necessarily how people speak day-to-day. I illustrated this point by running a Google search for the two terms. The one I chose yielded hundreds of thousands of results, while the one the evaluator considered correct only yielded about 20. This showed not only that spelling in Indonesian language is fluid, but also that the way everyday people spell Indonesian words may not be the same as how those words appear in the dictionary.

As a translator, I think it’s important to ask, Do we want to be right in a dictionary sense, or do we want the most engagement from the people we are trying to reach?

At an art exhibit in Stockholm.

At an art exhibit in Stockholm.

Sarah: In spite of the fact that you considered going to another tech company, you’ve stayed at LinkedIn.

Nani: Yes. I feel that LinkedIn has always supported my professional development and they’re open to my ideas. For example, when I’m ready for a new challenge, I’m given one. I told my previous manager that I was interested in being promoted, and he suggested that I take on a new project. I ended up working with the research team to conduct qualitative research in Indonesia. I also led an international research project in which my team members interviewed members from different parts of the world. It was great because I was able to use research skills I’d learned in anthropology—gathering ethnographic data through one-on-one interviews, doing archival research, creating reports. Because of that work, as well as my collaboration with a cross-functional team, Customer Operations, I was promoted to a senior position. After working with Customer Operations for a couple of years, I also started working with a new team, Marketing. Not long after that, I became a Marketing Localization Program Manager. As a program manager, I streamline processes to help improve communications and operations among multiple teams in the U.S., Europe, the Middle East, and Latin America.

Sarah: That’s a consistent theme in your career trajectory. You love streamlining operations in organizations.

Nani: LinkedIn has given me the green light to make those kinds of improvements. I’ve worked there for more than seven years now and I attribute my longevity to that. I feel valued. I’m also grateful that the company has sent me to Dublin for an assignment; I had always wanted to experience living in Europe.

With colleagues in Dublin.

With colleagues in Dublin.

Sarah: What’s it like to live in Dublin?

Nani: It was difficult at first. I felt overwhelmed by the foreignness, the short days and cold rainy weather, the loneliness. It triggered memories of being 17 and having just moved to the U.S. I remember after a few weeks of being in San Francisco, I broke down in my brother’s kitchen, taking in the fact that I was now in a new place, with no friends, where even communicating was a challenge.

What I’ve realized is that loneliness follows you, no matter where you are. For better or worse, I’ve often experienced loneliness, ever since I was a child. It’s not the kind of loneliness where you feel you have no one to spend time with. It’s more a feeling of alone in the world—what a friend of mine calls “existential loneliness.” Perhaps I thought if I moved away, I would lose this feeling. It turns out it’s still there, but with newer, different distractions. I’m feeling more at peace and accepting of this fact over time.

With colleagues in Sunnyvale.

With colleagues in Sunnyvale.

What I love about living in Europe is the ability to travel to other countries—both the planning and the experience of traveling. Since I arrived in December, I’ve been to eight countries in Europe, including countries I’d never been to before that I’d always been curious about, like Hungary, Austria, and Denmark. I’ve learned more about myself and what kind of traveler I am.

Being based in Dublin has its own challenges in terms of my job. For example, time zone differences between the U.S. and Ireland affect my work hours, which means I sometimes work until 7, 8, even 10 at night. On the positive side, if I plan ahead, my schedule is more flexible. For instance, when I know I’ll need to work late, I do other things in the morning. I once spent a weekday morning swimming in an outdoor pool in Vienna—that was lovely.

With friend Marina in Dublin.

With friend Marina in Dublin.

What I continue to love the most about life, no matter where I am, are those rare moments that give me feelings of gratitude and contentment. A few weeks ago, on a Friday, I attended a company party at an outdoor park. It was almost eight in the evening, but it was still bright, and the air was balmy, very rare for Dublin. I was on my way home, walking to the train station, but changed my mind and decided to walk home, even though Google Maps said it would take an hour. I strolled through Sandymount, a coastal suburb in Dublin, surrounded by elegant houses with shiny windows and beautiful front gardens. I didn’t have any obligations waiting at home; there was nothing I needed to do except enjoy the moment.