My heart cries out to be a nun, a yogini. I feel a deep pull towards the renunciate lifestyle. I crave spiritual discipline. I want to get up at dawn every day to chant and meditate. I want to eat light, high vibration foods. I want to grow my own food. I want my work in the world to be meaningful, to benefit all beings. I want to live a quiet, solitary life. I want to end each day in communion with the divine. I want to spiritualize my sexuality by having only tantric sex with a man who is aligned with my values.

“Imagine the happy life of one unattached to the material world; free of the clothing problem; free of food craving, never begging, never touching cooked food except on alternate days, never carrying a begging bowl; free of all money entanglements, never handling money, never storing things away, always trusting in God; free of transportation worries, never riding in vehicles, but always walking on the banks of the sacred rivers; never remaining in one place longer than a week in order to avoid any growth of attachment.”Paramahansa Yogananda, Autobiography of a Yogi

I also want to be rich and famous. I want to drink expensive champagne and have my brains fucked out in fancy hotel rooms. To workout at the gym for half the day, then have a luxurious massage, drink a margarita, and bask in the sun. I want to smoke pot and read books all day long. I don’t want these things only when I’m on vacation. I want them every day. I want to sell some stupid shit that makes me gobs of money, so I don’t have to work so hard. I want other people to do exactly what I tell them to do, because they have to. I want all the come-fuck-me-boots that money can buy. I want to have sex with whomever I want, whenever I want. Boots on and off. I want a Hans Hopfer mah-jong lounge sofa in Indian print. And I want it all now.

The other night I went to kirtan (Indian devotional chanting) led by the beautiful Snatam Kaur. Snatam Kaur is a Sikh. She wore a white cotton dress and had her hair tucked up in a white turban. I wanted it. I wanted to wear white and cover my hair. I felt the desire in my heart for total devotion, inward and outward.

It’s not just the white garb of the Sikh. Whenever I see a Buddhist or Hindu renunciant in their saffron robes, a Catholic nun in her habit, or a minister in his cassock, I feel the same pang. I think about how good it must feel to wear your heart on your sleeve. I want it. I crave it.

Whatever you wear makes a statement, and religious attire is no different.

A renunciant’s garb declares to the world that you are dedicated to God, to the path. It says that you are on earth to serve your fellow man. It says that your mind is primarily focused on Spirit. A good Habit declares your dedication to simplicity. A monk or nun is not worried about impressing everyone they meet with their outfit. They have higher things on their minds.

I have always loved the example of Gandhi in his dhoti, the simple white loincloth, and shawl. The dhoti was locally made, a political statement in protest to imported cloth from England. He wore it to demonstrate unity with the poor people of his country. While the dhoti certainly became symbolic, it was part of the discipline of Gandhi’s ascetic life. Gandhi wore the same thing whether he cleaning latrines with villagers in India or having tea with the King and Queen of England.

One night at a party, I was talking about simple living with a group of Hawaii girlfriends. We all lived in small, modest, eco-houses. We all shared the same big problem—our clothing! What to do with it all?! Oh… to be free from the complication!

Having only one outfit would solve so many problems.

No more crammed closets. No more overflow clothing stored in Rubbermaid containers. No more haranguing husbands and boyfriends to build more closet space or to move their clothing the fuck out of the way. No more having to wake up every day and deciding what to wear. Trying on and casting aside three to four different combinations before landing on something that is clean, unwrinkled, and doesn’t make you look fat. No more having to keep up with the laundry. Having just one thing to wear every day would simplify my life.

But what would I wear? If you are only going to wear one thing (maybe for the rest of your life?) it better be a good thing.

I have been considering conducting a yearlong experiment in which I commit to being my ideal spiritual self. I would dedicate myself to twice daily meditation. Give up stupid things like Netflix binge watching, Facebook and my political news obsession. Stop eating meat and drinking wine. Purify my body and mind. Stop coloring my grey hair and donate the money I save to charity.

I have been considering conducting a yearlong experiment in which I commit to being my ideal spiritual self. I would dedicate myself to twice daily meditation. Give up stupid things like Netflix binge watching, Facebook and my political news obsession. Stop eating meat and drinking wine. Purify my body and mind. Stop coloring my grey hair and donate the money I save to charity.

And, of course, I need a good Habit.

The top contender right now is my brown Sky maxi dress. It’s Sky’s mission “to deliver beautiful well-made garments that inspire.” Perfect!

I think my brown Sky dress is the perfect designer choice for my habit because:
• It is very comfortable.
• It is full length and therefore modest.
• It has this wonderful macramé décolletage around the empire waist and the shoulder straps, very earth mother.
• It makes my tits look good. I can also wear a bra top with it to give it a little color and to hide my cleavage, if necessary.
• The way it falls from the empire waist hides a multiple of sins (jiggly belly, ass, thighs). It’s a very streamlined look.

Sky also makes a bridal line, so I could go with a white maxi dress. Nothing screams spiritual purity like wearing white. The Bride of Christ, or Sikh look, depending on your perspective.

Since the Sky maxi dress is not a recognized renunciate look (yet!), it would take a while for people to catch on that I am a woman of God. My Habit would communicate a unique statement to the world.

It would declare that I am spiritually dedicated. That I am trying my best to be a good person. That I am in the world—moving among the work-a-day people—but high minded. That I can look fabulous, even in the same dress, every damn day.

I’m sure that I could continue to wear what I want and still exemplify spiritual values. These days, many monks and nuns wear regular, but modest clothing. They differentiate themselves by a pin, a crucifix or head covering.

But I think that if I donned the cloth it would make me a better person. If I were wearing the garb, I would have to act the part. No more being bitchy to the bank teller when she is taking forever with my deposit. Instead, I would have to breath deeply, emanate love and act like I had all the time in the world. I would no longer be able to eat pork or drink tequila (in public). And, no more wanton flirting at parties with young men. (Maybe I wouldn’t have to give that up? He would never know I was a renunciate. Another advantage to the Sky maxi-dress over more traditional garb.)

Who doesn’t like a sexy nun? It is the ultimate naughty and nice fantasy. And there is no greater turn-on than sexually inaccessibility.

My friend Peter says that I am a spiritual hedonist. Maybe I should just embrace my spiritual hedonism, then I wouldn’t have to shave my head and wear one dress.

What does the modern, female yogi look like? She deeply meditates morning and night. Treats all people with respect. Eats in moderation. Keeps her mind on the divine within while she does good work and serves her fellow man. Maybe she is fabulously sexy and incredibly wealthy. She shows a little cleavage, some of the time. Occasionally sips beverages brewed by monks in high mountain places. And everything she wears is a good Habit.

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