“The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom; for we never know what is enough until we know what is more than enough.”  –William Blake

After having been flown to NYC to teach Yoga + Chocolate at an international PR event, I attended the ensuing party on the top floor of a skyscraper. It was ultra-glam and I was feeling pretty darned good about myself. Grabbing another fancy hors d’oueve that slid gallantly across my palette, and sipping on a fine cocktail, I found myself surrounded by very “fabulous” types.  I ended up spending the better part of the evening hob-nobbing with the following:

Rita, an architect from Spain who was quite conservative in her button down. Already a bit tipsy, Rita told me in broken English, “I had sex with my yoga teacher once. He has a grande dong so you tell me that you es professor de yoga and I see you with grande dong. No?”

“Oh how wonderful,” I replied. What else was I supposed to say to her.

Then there was Johan, a marketing director from Norway in a navy blue sweater and white cackis.  He said to me in broken English, “Yes yoga, I try and I hate it. I don’t understand. Everyone say yoga this, yoga that. I say f-ck yoga,” and he proceeded to laugh tapping me affectionately on the shoulder to laugh along with him.

“Ha, ha, ha,” I sarcastically said under my breath.

And lastly, there was Martin, a big-time art dealer from Berlin who also spoke in broken English.

“So what kind of yoga you teach?” Martin inquired seeming to be genuinely interested.

“Well I pair yoga with everyday passions. To make the practice more accessible: yoga and chocolate. Yoga and Wine,”

Silence.

“You should try yoga and cocaine,” Martin said straight-faced.

I feigned laughter.

But Martin wasn’t laughing.

“Cocaine, everyone say it’s bad, but I love it. Cocaine! Here’s to cocaine!” Martin screamed raising his champagne glass in the air.

And Martin clinked his champagne glass with Marta, Johan, and Rita as they all screamed in unison, “Cocaine!”

“Cocaine!” another person screamed from the far corner of the room.

I was very naïve and did not realize until that moment that I was right in the heart of huge international coke party.  Being that I’m a relatively healthy yoga teacher, I wanted to get the heck out of there but my host insisted that I stay.

So I sipped on my martini and watched the slow disintegration of Johan, Rita, and Martin along with the other hundred or so folks at the party.

At 11pm, two hours after the party began, Johan’s nose was bleeding and his shirt was unbuttoned halfway, but he still insisted on speaking with me about yoga.  “Why everyone like so much? So boring yoga!”

Johan shoved his bag of coke in my hand saying, “Yoga this!”

I threw the bag of coke to the ground and headed toward the exit when Rita grabbed my hand and dragged me to the corner. She whispered in my ear, “You do me down dog dong baby; muy grande mi professor de yoga!”

Rita wreaked of garlic and cigarettes and I slithered out of her grip and toward the exit.

I went to collect my things only to stumble upon Martin who had unrolled my yoga mat in the room where four hours earlier I’d taught a yoga class. Martin had invited people to snort lines of cocaine off of my yoga mat.

“Yoga and cocaine!” martin screamed. “This how you do it!”

“Cocaine!” everyone screamed. “Cocaine!”

*****

Riding the elevator down the 50 floors, I felt horribly depressed. I felt depressed because it’s a lonely action to break away.  I felt depressed because it seems harder and harder to fit in. I felt depressed because that was my favorite yoga mat I’d left behind.

This isn’t a judgement about what those people were doing. God knows I like to party!  Maybe not cocaine but I like to have a good time. And I’ll spare you the “drugs are bad” message. This is more about decisions.

Most of us stumble upon everyday situations where we’re faced with a decision: to live it up and do something that’s less than healthy. Or to sacrifice certain pleasures for a smaller belly and a stronger heart.

More often than not these days, I’m living it up. I opt for the In n’ Out double double instead of the salad bar from Whole Foods. I opt for beers with my friends at Father’s Office instead of an evening jog. A few days ago when I realized I weighed as much as an NFL linebacker, I saw the scales tipping in more than ways than one.

To live a life of purpose and to attain any sense of direction, health, and well-being,  sometimes (just sometimes) we have to say NO.  No to the international coke party. No to the pair of shoes that will put you deeper in debt. No to the double-double with cheese.  Because YES will grip, tug, and bite demanding your attention. But to shake it loose yields something much greater than pleasure.

Freedom.