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this alleged power again. I never really got a straight answer before.
    â€œYou will become a better person in every sense of the word; More courageous, more attuned. You will have access to things that elude most people.”
    â€œWhat things?”
    â€œYou’ll see people more clearly than they can see themselves.”
    But it was my neighbor Maggie who really sold it. One day soon afterward, she saw me carrying my sexy rolled-up mat to the little studio across the street and got excited. She said an old friend from acting school had studied Kundalini out in LA and it had really given her the edge in her career.
    â€œWhat kind of edge?”
    She speed-dialed a number on her cell and handed it to me. Like a living infomercial, her friend Jeanine told me how her life had been transformed since she started practicing. Her thoughts were clearer, her perception crisper.
    â€œBut it was more than that,” she said. “It’s as though I’m able to will things to happen.”
    Now she was getting work consistently. She’d been in a pilot for a sitcom called Resplendent , which she was just waiting to get picked up. She knew what casting directors wanted without them even having to ask.
    â€œThe real strength of Kundalini is in detecting hidden things,” she said.
    â€œI work with criminals who are habitual liars,” I explained. “Do you think it could help me there?”
    â€œFaith is always rewarded,” she replied simply. “What have you got to lose?”
    It still sounded flaky to me, but I figured that since I was paying for the classes anyway, what would it hurt if for once I left the cynicism at home?
    After my next yoga class, I waited until all left and asked the Renunciate what exactly I had to do to release my Kundalini.
    â€œFocus on breathing and meditation.”
    Before my next class, though, I had an encounter with Maggie that undermined my faith in anything she and her loopy actress friend might recommend. She invited me over for some tea, and inevitably we wound up talking about the latest man in her life. When all the tea turned into pee, she ran off to the toilet. Alone at her dining table, I saw a half-written letter sitting off to the side. Glancing at it, I saw it was addressed to the film actor Viggo Mortensen, who’d recently starred in Lord of the Rings . Of course I had to read it.
    Dear Viggo ,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Like you, I too am a thespian, so this isn’t so much a fan letter as an epistolary salute from one colleague to another. When I first saw you in Indian Runner and later GI Jane, I felt an immediate connection . . .”
    Under it I discovered more letters, addressed to other box office stars, including Noel Holden.
    By the time Maggie returned, I had put the letters back in place, but her slightly paranoid mind immediately grasped that I had read them.
    â€œI kind of have a correspondence with Viggo,” she said slowly and softly, “as well as several other actors I’ve met along the way.”
    â€œDo any of them ever write you back?”
    â€œNot yet,” she said. “But when everyone else forgets them, then they’ll write me back.”
    After watching the crime scene all day, I let loose in class that night. I was trying to remain open to the mystical possibilities of Kundalini, but I was definitely getting a workout. Rolling my abs like a belly dancer I breathed deeply and audibly, sounding like an old vacuum cleaner. I went home bathed in sweat, showered, and prepared myself some dinner, tricolored bow ties in light pesto sauce, with a green salad. While I ate it, I watched a copumentary show called Case File , which I preferred to the usual TV cop shows because they coveredactual cases.
    Three deep low moans and one female gasp came through the wall Maggie’s apartment shared with mine.
    When I heard her door open a while later, I couldn’t resist looking through my