Funny, Delicious, Beautiful

I haven’t gotten married yet, but being 36 years old, I’ve been to a lot of weddings. Is it me or are they freakin expensive? Airfare for 2, hotel room, and then, the gift. A few weeks ago I attended a wedding of someone who does not read The Schtick. I spent $737 on airfare and $595 on a hotel room for 2 nights. For a gift, I gave this couple a bottle of Romanelli Olive Oil. I feel it’s very valuable considering it comes from trees in my dad’s backyard. And then…I got the Thank You note last Thursday.

Dear David:

Thanks so much to you and your lovely girlfriend for attending our wedding. It was great seeing you both. Please remember we are registered at Pottery Barn and Bloomingdales.  As for the bottle of olive oil, we wish you would have kept the $12 and used for a haircut or shave before our wedding ceremony.

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I know what you must be thinking and I agree: why criticize a gift before you know its true value!! That bottle of olive oil is $25, not $12.

Whether as a wedding gift, a Father’s Day present, or something special for a big birthday, don’t feel like you have to spend oodles of cash. Choose something packed with meaning, and quality. As Oscar Wilde said, “A cynic is the man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.”

And on that note I’d love to share with you Romanelli Olive Oil, handpicked and hand pressed from olive trees in my dad’s backyard. Each drop will dazzle your palette. As my Italian grandparents once said to me, “Finiscila di mangiare, maiale!”** (translation: Stop eating you little pig!)

Visit here to pick up a bottle of the olive oil. It’s on my storefront at The Open Sky Project, a sort of online farmer’s market.

“It’s so big,” she said.

I had met her a month earlier at a bar in Amsterdam and after some romantic phone calls, she decided to visit me in Phoenix…all the way from Barcelona. Unfortunately, her comment on size was in reference to the airport parking structure

As Americans, we sometimes fail to recognize that our culture is supersized. Everything is big. Our meals, our buildings, our ambitions. It’s not all bad. But not all good.

The other night I watched a piece on Jose Andres who has pioneered the art of molecular gastronomy. He creates food in a way that defies the senses and the imagination. For instance, his version of a mojito is a tiny ball of jello which explodes in the mouth. His message: it’s less about size and more about flavor.
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Many years ago, my friend was on a long plane flight reading a yoga book. A man with an Indian accent said to him, “You should come try my yoga.” The Indian man told him the location of his Beverly Hills studio and went on to explain that most yoga is “like masturbating” but his style of yoga “is like making love.” Guess who this man with the Indian accent was. Bikram. The actual Bikram.

I believe Bikram and Jose Andres are on the same page.  Why masturbate when you can make love!  Less about size, more about flavor! In other words, would you rather 100 bland bites of an orange or one deliciously amazing bite? Would you rather live for 80 years of so-so happiness or 57 years of ecstatic joy? Would you exchange 50 less than average yoga classes for 1 yoga class you’d remember forever?
Stop stroking yourself with promises about what may or may not happen tomorrow. Pack all of your flavor and all of your love into one tiny little moment. This one. As goes the proverb, “Enjoy yourself. It’s later than than you think.”

Over the past year, I’ve lost some weight and coincidentally, the size of my local yoga classes has shrunk. Like these classes, my body shape has changed from that of a plump macaroon to something more like a banana. Hmmmm. While we might think that slender bodies are considered more attractive, the research shows that in our most natural state, human beings are actually drawn to plumper body types.

A recent NY Times article reported on the Matsigenka people (see photo) who lead a primitive, hunter-gatherer life in a remote part of Peru.  The Matsigenka population which was isolated from modern influences showed no preference for skinnier body types. While the Matsigenka population with exposure to modern society did in fact prefer the hard-bodied physique.  In other words, advertising and entertainment impress upon everyone the importance of hourglass shaped bodies…while in truth, our most primal self longs to squeeze another’s flesh.

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A wise one said, “The soul is placed in the body like a rough diamond, and must be polished, or the luster of it will never appear.” We spend countless resources attending to the body, while the soul cries for attention.  So if you really want to be authentic, next time you’re in yoga class, say to your teacher, “Hey, you look fat.” While on the surface it might be confusing and even cause a rift in your teacher-student relationship, deep down, their soul will thank you. Just trust me.

God knows a day governed by the soul is a day of heartfelt, honest communication; day of chocolate, sunshine, and Negro Modelo;  a day celebrating belly rolls and manboobs.  God knows a day governed by the soul is a rare day indeed.

I was reading recently that humans are the only mammals who hide their private parts. Obviously, we are also the only mammals to wear clothes. But what if we walked around with our privates exposed? Would you think differently of a good friend you discovered had a tiny wanker? Would an Amazon rainforest sprouting just south of one’s equator make you opt out of lunch? Would you be able to keep a straight face if your 1:30pm meeting had, er, ah, um…something reminding you of a droopy elephant?

Why are we so embarrassed about our privates? The chimpanzees certainly aren’t. Nor are the whales, monkeys, dolphins, or fishies. But us humans wouldn’t dare walk into a public park naked without being arrested. I don’t get it.

12 years ago I attended a naked hot spring retreat called Esalen. At first, I found it extremely awkward to be naked around strangers and went so far as to cover myself before entering the hot springs. But by the end of the weekend, it actually seemed normal and we even called each other by affectionate nicknames like FurryFrieda, DroopyDon, MohawkMaggie, and FreckleDick (short for Richard).

It wasn’t too long ago that I ran into FurryFrieda in the lobby of the Exhale Center for Sacred Movement yoga studio in Venice. Let’s just say when I screamed “Oh My God FurryFrieda how the hell are ya?! I haven’t seen you in years!” that she was less than thrilled to see me and the 73 people waiting in the lobby for Saul David Raye’s morning yoga class were very, very, very curious.

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We (or at least “I”) spend so much time and energy covering up our fears, neuroses, issues, and privates that we have little time and energy left over to enjoy life. A 2004 survey by Dove Soap found that only 2% of women consider themselves beautiful.* Can you stand naked in front of the mirror, if not in front of DroopyDon and MohawkMaggie, and love yourself and all your imperfections?

Kahlil Gibran once wrote, “For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun!”  For what is it to, in this very moment, stop what you’re doing, and realize: your life is perfect, you’re right where you’re supposed to be, and even if you have a tiny wanker, the people who really, truly, deeply love you won’t care in the slightest. At least I don’t think they will.