July 2009 Archives

Elijah came back from Zoo Camp on Monday very excited.

"Daddy, I have a new friend!" he said.

"That's great," I said. "What's his name?"

"I don't remember."

"How can you have a friend and not know what his name is?"

"I think it starts with a C that makes an S sound."

"OK."

"And he's going into third grade, so he's taller than I am."

"That's fine."

"And he's finished Lego Star Wars, Lego Indiana Jones, and Lego Batman. All the levels, And he knows all the secrets."

"Wow," I said. "He sounds fascinating."

"Don't be a meanie, meanie," said Elijah.

"Sorry. What else can you tell me about your new friend?"

"At lunch, he likes to eat by the garbage can so he doesn't have to walk across the room to throw something away."

"I guess that makes sense."

"And, you know what else?"

"Do tell."

"He drinks water...from the sink!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he doesn't drink from bottles," and then, as if he simply couldn't believe this, Elijah exclaimed, "Doesn't drink from bottles, daddy! Ever!"

"So?"

"So he drinks water from the sink! I drank my water bottle in the first hour, and I was thirsty all day, but my friend kept drinking water from the sink!"

"Elijah, you can fill up your water bottle at the sink."

He has a reusable bottle, of course. Who do you people think we are?

"You can?" he asked.

"Yes, if you're thirsty, drink water, don't be dumb."

"Oh," he said. "I didn't know that."

The fact that Elijah finds drinking water from the sink such a compelling feat is somewhat embarrassing to me. But come on! He's growing up maybe a little bit yuppie, but it's hard to imagine that he's never seen anyone drink water from the sink before. This is probably a sign that I need to make a crapload more money. This child, like Dudley Moore in Arthur, is going to have a hard time functioning without a butler. Maybe tomorrow he'll witness his new friend peeling an orange.

When I started practicing yoga seven years ago at the Lance Armstrong 24-Hour Fitness in Northeast Austin, I had stick arms, a donut belly, and a really bad attitude. I definitely didn't think I'd end up teaching yoga myself. Even when I started writing Yoga Dork, a year-and-a-half ago, I didn't think I'd end up teaching. Yet two weeks from the night I'm writing this, I'm going to teach my first yoga class. And I'm doing it on purpose.

In Nashville last week, a buddy who I hadn't seen for a while asked me, "so why, exactly, are you doing this?"

Without thinking for a second, I said, "it's a calling."

"Damn, man," he said. "That sounds religious."

"Yeah," I said. "I guess it does. Well, yoga isn't exactly tied to any one religion, but..."

I then proceeded to bore the shit out of him for five minutes.

Sure, I was a little drunk, and more than a little stoned, when I said that yoga was my calling. But even now, though I am, again, a little drunk and more than a little stoned, I still stand by the word. Nothing has done more good for my life than yoga. I'm humbled by everything my body can do now, and even more humbled by everything it can't. I see the world more clearly than ever before. Admittedly, that's not very clear at all, but occasionally, surprisingly, there's a open spot in the fog.

What am I talking about? Hell, I don't even know most of the time. That's the main reason I want to start teaching. Maybe my students, if I end up having any, will be able to tell me. Meanwhile, I'm going to work under the auspices of my most honored teacher, Mara Hesed, to come up with an intelligent and physically challenging practice.

We'll do poses, and a little breath control, maybe sit quietly for a few minutes, and then I'll talk for a while, with no authority at all, about the history and philosophy of yoga. The rest of the time, hopefully to everyone's satisfaction, I'll ramble through pop-cultural digressions and make fart jokes. And, at the end, we'll do some inversions and have a nice savasana. If we chant a little in Sanskrit as well, please don't be afraid. It's just like Hebrew School, only more pretentious and half-naked.

Does that sound good to you? It does to me. I asked Elijah if I should be nervous about teaching my first class. "Maybe a little," he said, "but no more than that." Wise advice from a booger-eater, but still, I've been telling my yoga colleagues about how nervous I am.

"Fake it 'till you make it," said one of them.

I think I will. And I hope that those of you in L.A. proximity will come and fake it with me. Necessary information about my first yoga classes is below; attend one, or even both. See you on the mat. Afterward we'll go across the street for ice cream.

Namaste,
NP

Hom Yoga Presents
Neal Pollack's Club Sutra
Tuesday, July 28 and
Tuesday, August 4
7-9 PM.
@Against The Stream Buddhist Meditation Society
4300 Melrose Avenue (between Vermont and the 101)
Los Angeles
$10 suggested donation.