Archive for January, 2009

“Nations grown corrupt
Love bondage more than liberty;
Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty.”
~John Milton

It was just about one year ago that I wrapped up my evening yoga class in Santa Monica when this dude Mike says to me, “Yo Dave, join us for some pizza or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Ok, Mike, guess I don’t have a choice.”

Mike was a fairly cool guy who would often host Sunday afternoon football watching. Many-a-beers  and many-a-great times had I enjoyed at Mike’s. But if I didn’t abide by Mike’s rules, he’d call me any of the following names: sissy, wimp, wussy, or flower child.

So I joined Mike and his girlfriend Cassie for pizza. And I must admit, while Mike was a hairy-necked disaster of a man, Cassie was absolutely gorgeous. Like many of our friends, I would openly admit to Mike that I had a crush on his girlfriend.

So as I took my first bite of pizza, Mike said to me, “Listen Dave, Cassie and I want to invite you to come home with us tonight.”

“Thanks dude, but I can’t tonight, I gotta do laundry.”

I winced expecting Mike to call me one of his names when Cassie said, “No Dave, we want you to come home with us” and she winked at me.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw Cassie’s flirtatious expression. But I thought nothing of it.

“Thanks Cass but I really can’t tonight.”

Mike continued, “Dave I’ve got the hot tub all fired up, cold brews in the fridge, I know you’re gonna tell me you don’t have your surf trunks, not to worry, you don’t need any.”

WTF?!

This guy Mike (unkempt pig with hairy neck) was super macho and all of the sudden he was inviting me over for a naked hot tub? The pizza started coming up the wrong way when I saw Cassie lick her lips and wink at me again. Oooo that was nice to see.

I looked back at Mike and he looked at me invitingly, pizza sauce running down his face. Yuck. I looked back at Cassie and she whispered “come over.” Niiiiiice. I looked back at Mike. Gross. I looked back at Cassie. Beautiful.

If it’s not yet clear to you, they were inviting me for a threesome. Truthfully, the last thing I cared to do on a lazy evening by the sea was have a naked hot tub with stinky Mike who I once saw puke and proceed to eat more chicken wings 3 minutes later. God save me. I passed on the invitation.

*****

We finished a very awkward dinner and the next day Mike called me, “Dave listen, I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t say anything to the fellas next time we’re posted up on Sunday afternoon watching football.”

“Sure thing Mike, no worries. I won’t say that you invited me to join you for a naked hot tub. But never again will you call me a wimp, wussy, or a flower child. Never. Is that clear Mike?”

Some might call it extortion but I call it a step toward healthy living. Now when I head over to hang with the fellas, I’ll bring healthy soups, salads, and smoothies instead of chicken wings, burgers, and Budweiser.  Our other friends expect Mike to taunt me for daring to come with such healthy selections. But instead, Mike says in front of the fellas, “Dave, I love what you’re doing here with these fresh and nutritious foods. Seriously fellas, we should thank him for helping us feel better about ourselves.”

On a recent football Sunday, our friend Houdain complained, “But Mike, this healthy food sucks!”

“Who wants a stupid salad and smoothie while watching football?!” our friend Ronny screamed.

Mike instantly responded, “Houdain and Ronny, shut the hell up unless you want me to kick your ass right friggen now!”

And they sunk into their seats.

Mike winked at me. I couldn’t be sure if the wink meant “let’s hit the tub” or “I’ve got your back.”  Either way, doesn’t bother me. I believe Mike’s diverse sexual preferences stem from the roots of his soul and he should enjoy absolute freedom to live just the life he desires. But when hiding behind the false pretenses of machismo at the taunt-ridden expense of others, Mike casts a long shadow. That shadow just got darker and wider when voters in my home state of California voted YES on Prop 8 thus banning gay marriage.

No disrespect to those who made gay marriage an illegal action. But there’s one thing more harmful to society than breaking the law.  Breaking the soul.

“City life is millions of people being lonesome together.” -Henry David Thoreau

Last weekend I attended an incredible wedding. Hanging with college buddies whom I rarely see, dancing late into the night, celebrating all that’s good in life. Around 10pm on Saturday evening just as the wedding band started to rock, somebody I didn’t recognize approached.

“Dave, it’s Reid Johanson, great to see you!”

But before I could remember the gist of my acquaintance with this Reid Johanson, I realized he had invaded my personal space. He stepped within the one foot no fly zone and was standing six inches from my face. Yes, Reid is what they call a close talker, voted the #3 most annoying characteristic in a human being.

“Reid, hey,” I answered wiping his spit off my cheek.

“Been a long time Dave! I hear you are wearing Speedos and stretching people for a living!”

“Stretching yes. Speedos no,” I said taking a big step back and regaining my personal space.

“I coulda figured you’d end up in Speedos living out in Cali,” Reid said reentering my space.

I could smell his breath, see the food in his teeth, and spot the giant whitehead zit on his chin.

“How you been?” Reid spat.

“Other than these airborne transmitted STD’s I contracted, I’ve been great,” I answered. “I’ll tell ya’ Reid, that syphilis is hard to shake.”

But Reid didn’t move out of my space.

Then I put my hand on Reid’s shoulder giving him a gentle pat hello followed by a subtle push away. But Reid thought I was trying to hug him and proceeded to step even closer toward me assuming I was also a close talker. What could be worse than two close talkers? I certainly didn’t want to find out.

Have you not had such an experience?  Is it me or is it awkward?

Finally, I removed the breath spray from my pocket, acted as if I was spraying into my open mouth, but instead aimed the nozzle toward Reid, and sprayed eight times onto his face. As Reid backed off to wipe his eyes, I pretended to be refreshed before walking away as if nothing happened.

*****

For decades, we as a society have been “close talking.” Too much force, hustle, and effort has brought us closer to our goals, wants, and needs; while diminishing our capacity to step back and reflect.

Emerson said, “There are no fixtures in nature. The universe is fluid and volatile.” In other words, the universe is feisty. With the state of the environment and the decline of the economy, I believe we are experiencing what it feels like when the universe Pushes back a “close talking” society.

The result: newfound time and space to recognize a deeper function of humanity. There is much we fail to notice in a high-paced life. Take the superorganism as an example. No this is not a Ron Jeremy reference. The superorganism is a collection of little organisms that together act in service of the whole. For instance, a single colony of leaf cutter ants (see above photo) have millions of workers divided into a diversity of castes. Together, these ants perform intelligent actions that an individual ant would never dream possible.

Unlike the ants, Americans as a whole have not joined forces on a united cause since the mission to the moon back in the 60′s.  Once again, finally, we are starting to join forces. This is the good coming from all the bad happening in this world. We are being Pushed away from the pursuit of cosmetic perfection; Pushed away from individual material dominance; Pushed away from addiction to oil. And slowly but surely, the human superorganism is taking shape.

Whether it’s Americans making a peaceful but radical change in leadership that in many countries could only be achieved thru a coup, violence, and massive loss of life. Or the 2,000,000 person strong wecansolve.org which is slowly but surely outmaneuvering oil companies to force the issue of climate change.  People from every class, caste, and corner are starting to find their place in the superorganism.

Next time a close talker invades your space, notice how he forces the issue. The closer he comes, the more tempted you are to push back.  That’s exactly where we stand at this unique time in history.  As a society, we can’t get any “closer.” The more one forces, hustles, and strives for individual gain at the expense of the whole, the harder the universe will Push back. Frank Zappa said it perfectly, “In the fight between you and the universe, back the universe.”

“Education is one of the few things a person is willing to pay for and not get.”
-William Lowe Bryan

My cousin was in the hospital, and his wife asked for help. They were trying to get their son into a swanky private school and wanted me to fill in as “the father figure” for the interview. Well, the private school describes it not as an interview but “a playdate.” Either way, I thought it was strange being that their son is not 22 and applying to law school; nor 17 and applying to undergrad. Little Mikee is friggin 5 years old and applying to Pre-K. By the way, tuition is $24,000 per year.

Sweet Jesus.

Family is family so I accompanied my cousin’s wife Hanshee and watched as little Mikee, who has terrible ADHD, waited with us in the admission’s office. A Mr. Gonzalez greeted us in the waiting room and invited us to join him for a stroll.

We followed Mr. Gonzalez to a playground as he explained, “What we are most looking to see in this playdate is an applicant’s emotional intelligence or their capacity for kindness, curiosity for learning, and pleasant disposition.”

Mikee eagerly ventured into the playground with two other children around the same age. One child was quite handsome and athletic, sure to be a popular type. The other child was a bit odd and aloof.

Hanshee looked defeated and whispered to me, “He’s terrible at this David. I love him to death but little Mikee’s got a devil in him.”

“Have some faith, he can do this,” I said feeling as if I was watching a sports team go to battle.

“C’mon Mikee, let’s do this!” I rooted him on.

In fact, it felt like rooting for your football team with a 5-7 record to somehow come through big against the 10-2 team. Given Mikee’s track record of ADHD and an inability to play nice, we really needed the “upset” victory.

Hanshee hollered, “Mikee, remember what mommy told you. If you behave today, it’s straight to McDonalds.”

“Please, we ask that you refrain from communicating with your son during this process,” Mr. Gonzalez commanded.

“Mikee remember that we share! Share Mikee!” Hanshee whispered loudly.

“M’am please!” Mr. Gonzalez said.

But Mikee listened. He made nice with the aloof boy and they shared toys, laughed, and ran around for what must have been 5 minutes.  Hanshee and I high fived behind Mr. Gonzalez’s back as he scribbled notes about Mikee’s behavior.

But then, with what must have been less than 1 minute left in his “playdate,” Mikee wandered over to the corner of the playground.

“Mikee what you are doing honey?” Hanshee asked in a motherly tone.

“C’mon Mikee, 1st and goal on the one yard line. Punch it in and let’s go home!” I screamed.

Mikee proceeded to squat down. His face turned red.

“Mikee, noooooooooo!” I yelled in what felt to me like super slow motion.

Mikee crapped himself.

It’s been an ongoing problem so I can’t say it was surprising. But crapping oneself at any age during an interview is something with potentially damaging mental side effects. Subjecting a 5 year old to this pressure is a terrible thing.

As a panicky Hanshee carried Mikee out of the playground, she frantically turned to Mr. Gonzalez attempting to redirect his attention.  While pointing at me, she said, “The same thing happened to David in an interview once, it’s a genetic response to nerves! Tell him David! And look, he’s turned into a great success.”

WTF?!

Mr. Gonzalez turned to me, “And what do you nowadays David?”

“Oh I’m a yoga teacher.”

Mr. Gonzalez scribbled more notes.

*****

I’m about to pay my property taxes, and I might start dry heaving when I write that check. But it’s the most important check I’ll write all year because a lot of that money goes toward public schools. Today’s USA TODAY discussed how property taxes are remaining stable even as home values are decreasing. And for that reason, public education is one of the only sectors still adding jobs in this terrible economy.  For once, public schools have a leg up on the competition. It’s an example of how the radical changes taking place in society are not all bad.

But there’s no doubt the radical changes taking place are all uncomfortable and stripping society bare to reveal our big, fat, excessive ways.  When $24,000 a year is going toward a 5 year old learning to color with crayons, yet so many people are out of work, desperate, and struggling to get by, there’s a sad neglect for the community.  Argue with me if you want. But as you argue, watch the economy sink, the unemployed turn desperate, and general safety become a much more serious concern.

If we could care just a little less about the individual pursuit and just a little more about the well-being of our community, we will heal our faltering society. By default, it’s already happening. More and more parents who would normally send their kids to private school can’t afford it and are “forced” to embrace the public school. The fact that these parents suddenly take an interest in their local public school when before they would have cared less:  to me that shows the hardships of this era are helping our society get into better
“shape.”

If you’re rich, all the power to you. Let the rich be rich. Who doesn’t wanna be rich!  But if the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer, and the private schools keep getting better, and the public schools keep getting worse, the day will soon come when the angry masses storm the mansions and ground the leer jets and stampede the luxury stores. And little Mikee won’t be the only one having an accident in his pants.

“A right is not what someone gives you; it’s what no one can take from you.” Ramsey Clark

Last week, a friend asked me to sub her class at a local country club. I hesitantly agreed. But when it came time to actually teach her 1:30pm yoga class at the country club 45 minutes away, I was very irritated. Yes yoga teachers have bad days too and after having slammed my Prius into a pole while backing up and after having received a parking ticket in front of my own home,  I did not want to be teaching yoga.

With a big frown, I entered the freezing, air-conditioned room at the El Cab Country Club.

“Hello everyone, Sharon isn’t here today and I’m your lowly sub,” I skeptically joked.

Upon surveying the class and seeing the wide range of personalities and varying levels of yoga experience, I realized a yoga teacher’s worst nightmare.  There was a woman caked in makeup, mid 60′s, thick east coast accent on the far right side of the room.  Her name was Martia. On the complete opposite side of the room was a hard-core athletic man with a finely sculpted body who introduced himself as Ron. And in the back, middle of the room was an exhausted, bleary-eyed mom with her gothic, tweaked-out teenage son.

Instantly, the bleary-eyed mother scrambled to the front of the room dragging her son in tow.

“Hi I’m Marney and this is my son Hobart. This is our first yoga class.”

“Nice to meet you Marney and Hogart,” I responded, not really caring to meet them.

“It’s Hobart,” he said to me grimly. “You yoga fruitcake!” he then uttered under his breath.

“Hobart mind your manners,” the mom said sternly.

The mom turned back to me, “Hobart is addicted to meth so if he’s a little irritated don’t worry about it. I’ve got him on leave from rehab for the afternoon.”

“Meth huh? Go Hobart go,” I said sarcastically.

I began class, “Alrighty everyone, let’s start lying on our backs. Just take a few deep breaths. Today I’d like to address the issue of fear. Sometimes we let fear dominate our lives…”

“Ahem,” Martia interrupted me.

I continued, “Fear can be so problematic, so this afternoon, I’d like to suggest…”

But Martia interrupted me again, “Who do you think you are? Wayne freakin Dyer? Can we do some yoga already?”

If I was a car, I’d be approaching the red line.

The 3 students bobbled and phutzed their way into down dog, but the muscular guy Ron did 10 push ups before springing into the pose.

“Excuse me David? I’m hot. Turn down the heat,” Martia said not asking but rather commanding me as if I was a servant.

“Keep the heat on David!”  Ron shouted at me while doing more pushups.

“To hell with you, you meshugina!” Martia barked across the room at Ron.

Hobart wasn’t moving and I approached him saying, “Hobart can I share a few tips on how to do the down dog pose?”

Hobart motioned for me to come closer as if he wanted to whisper something so I leaned in.

Hobart seethed, “You can suck me if you’d like!”

In this very second, I had a come to Jesus moment. There was the 60 year old woman screaming across the room at the 40 year old muscular triathalete. There was the bleary-eyed mom yelling at her tweaked son who lay on the ground phutzing with his wanker while staring into the sky.  And there was me, hoping to grow in my profession, trying to make a living, wanting to soon get married and have kids and take care of my future family. Yet I was being harassed by a methhead and J.A.P. (yes I’m Jewish) in the middle of  Tarzana on a chilly Tuesday afternoon.

So at this very moment, I made a conscious decision, turned off my Ipod, gathered my things, left the country club, and shifted my bearings once and for all.

*****

The great guru Osho said that when you are seeking freedom from life, you are always on the run, being chased by your finances, fears, and worries. I may seem to you like a fulfilled human being but truthfully, for most of my life, I’ve been on the run. Running from my neuroses, running from my insecurities, running from my guilt. I’ve always felt a need to assuage the Rons and Martias and endure the Hobarts and Marneys of the world.  After all, anything in the rear view mirror is confusing (if not daunting) when that’s your point of reference.

Osho said that when you are seeking freedom for life, you are diving headlong into the journey.  Chasing your dreams. Pursuing your passions. Setting your sites. In 2009, my book will come out. There will be people who don’t like it. And there’s a part of me that will want to turn around and ask why, how, really? But when looking backward, everything becomes a potentially destructive obstacle in the forward march through time. So let 2009 be the year when you turn around and run for life, not from it.