Visions of Cody

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 17:04:16 PDT

Well, it sure has been a crazy summer!

As you may have noticed, there’s been a dearth of new postings at Visions of Cody for the last few months. And I think that it’s safe to say that the time for this particular blog has passed.

But I didn’t want to go out on a sour note. That last post was a little too much of a downer for my tastes.

Thank you all for your readership and friendship over these last 4 years. I had a tremendous amount of fun being a part of your virtual lives. I enjoyed every aspect of the community – the sharing, the jokes and even the blog wars.

I started this blog as an adjunct to my yoga practice and it was a great tool for learning about yoga. But it evolved into something much more. Being a part of the online yoga community made turning on the computer each and every morning much more fun. Meeting some of you in person was even better.

One of the many definitions of yoga is “union” and as I said in my last post, I was having trouble comfortably maintaining an anonymous online identity. As a result, the time came for me to stop writing as 'Cody' and to start writing as myself.

I guess, in a weird way, I did find yoga as a result of this blog. I found a way to accept the disparate parts of my personality - the good and the bad - and embrace them as a whole.

I also found my voice as a writer through this blog. While I always wrote, mostly for work, I never put as much effort into personal writing as I should have. Re-reading the awful early entries of this blog shows me how much my writing has grown over the years. It probably would never have happened without you or this blog.

I’m still writing my silly little essays about humor and rock music, so if you’d like you keep reading you can subscribe to my blog here, visit it here or become Twitter friends. I must forewarn you, however, that I’m not writing about yoga anymore.

Probably because I haven’t practiced any yoga this summer.

I’m not sure why. I guess after 5 years of obsession I needed a break. I’ve been spending my time bike riding along the beach and going to the gym, but mostly just being fat and lazy. The good news is that I’m kind of feeling the pull to get back into the groove once school starts in September.

I don’t think I’ll be going to classes anymore or adhering to any particular style or approach. Being a full-on yoga junkie is too expensive and too time-consuming for me these days. But who knows what’ll happen in the future.

I wish you all the very best in your lives and in your practice. I hope that you, like me, find whatever it is that you’re looking for.

Thank you and goodnight.

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The Suicide Diaries

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:48:22 PDT

The weird thing about the virtual world is just how virtual it really is. You take a hiatus from reading and writing blogs, tweeting and message boarding and after a few days the whole virtual world starts to feel like an illusion. You realize that you could just stop existing and never go back. Virtual suicide is an easy and readily available option.

So that’s what’s been going on. I’ve been contemplating virtual suicide.

Actually, the truth is that I’ve just been really busy with life and work. Another school year is drawing to a close. The Great Recession is taking its toll. The perception is that we’ve all got to give more. We should be grateful to have work, especially work that is mostly creative and enjoyable. And it’s true. I am grateful for what I have and I am giving more. There’s no resentment but it comes at a cost. There’s definitely less time for virtual living.

That’s not entirely true either. I’m having an identity crisis. My real identity and my fake identity are fighting with each other for control of the virtual world. I blame Twitter.

Many years ago, I created this fake online avatar so that I could exist in the virtual world without censoring myself. Well, I still censor myself somewhat, but I liked how the relative anonymity of the ‘Cody Pomeray’ persona allowed me to discuss things – personal, political and other – that I wouldn’t necessarily want connected to my professional life.

Then Twitter came along. I really like the form of Twitter. In my approach, podcasts are designed for rants and interviews that benefit from verbalization. Blogs are designed for essays that require a more deliberate and thoughtful approach. Twitter is perfect for stray ideas and mini-conversations.

After I got sucked into Twitter I found my virtual and real worlds colliding (the exact reason why I don’t Facebook). I started following people that I knew in the real world. It felt disingenuous to Twitter with people without telling them who I was. That was the beginning of the trouble.

I also started to realized that the professional face that I was presenting online was incomplete and disingenuous. I had limited my “official” online presence to an entirely corporate and entirely one-dimensional voice. It didn’t represent the true or whole me.

So, I’m not sure what to do. I’m starting to write and tweet under my real name. But in doing so, I have to censor myself more. So what do I do with the more personal stuff like politics, ‘fat boy remorse’ posts, rants, music reviews, etc. that aren’t necessarily appropriate for work?

I guess I could keep posting that stuff here. But if VoC only represents the 'inappropriate' material, then Cody would come across as a phony and a douchebag. What a headache. I guess I need to figure out how to strike a balance between the appropriate and the inappropriate and between the real and the fake.

Now I really wish that I believed in maya.

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Oh Sweet Nuthin'

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 12:27:48 PDT

For the last 5 weeks I’ve been perfect, with a consistent daily practice each and every weekday morning.

Actually, that isn’t entirely true.

3 weeks ago I missed 2 days, one morning because I had an early flight and the next morning because I was too “tired” after a late night of boozing.

Weeknight boozing is a rarity for me. While I’m a big fan of the actual drinking and hanging out, I’m not a fan of waking up the next morning and practicing yoga. I can definitely feel the effects of even one beer when I’m on the mat. As a result I don’t, as a general rule, drink at all during the week unless I’m traveling. Kid-free trips, however, do require a certain amount of boozing. It’s in my “modestly reformed degenerate” contract.

But other than those 2 mornings I’ve been perfect. It’s a good habit to be in.

I haven’t been to any led classes in the last month either, but not because I’m boycotting them. I just haven’t had time to get to a studio due to work, travel and family stuff. But I’ve been on the mat at the stroke of 6 each and every morning.

My practice is beyond basic. I start with sun salutations, usually 4 As and 4 Bs with jump-backs. Then I do all of standing, minus ardha baddha padmottanasana. Then I bust out 6 navasanas and 30 or so abdominal twists. I finish up with a little pranayama and a nice savasana. It’s a tidy little 30 minute session.

I’m sure I’ll tweak the home sequence in the future and I know that I’ll go back to classes at some point. I’ve just fallen into a groove where yoga is playing a foundational role in my life, rather than a driving role.

I wonder if I’ve entered a different phase of my yoga practice where it’s just there. Get up, bend, breathe and go. No goals, no thinking, no nothing.

Speaking of phases, I realized that I missed my 5 year practice anniversary, which passed sometime in late-May. I guess that means it’s time for:

Visions of Cody’s Official 5 Year Yoga Practice Review

When I walked into that Bikram studio in May of 2004 I said that I was looking for “wellness.” So, has wellness been achieved through 5 years of (practically) daily yoga practice?

Physical Wellness

Over the last 5 years I’ve lost about 42 pounds. That’s the good news. The bad news is that I’ve put about 28 of those pounds back on.

I was a vegetarian when I started yoga. I’m back to being a carnivore. I’m much happier being a carnivore. I’m glad that I was a veggie for so long because it gave me real insight and appreciation into that lifestyle. On the other hand, we’re going to Grill 23 tomorrow night for steaks.

One could say that the meat eating might be a contributor to my fatness. One would probably be right. But we’re still going to Grill 23! Hi-oh!

I’ve torn the medial meniscus in both knees, having had the left one surgically repaired and the right one surgically ignored. That is also bad.

I’m in better anaerobic shape now than I was then. I’m still in as poor aerobic shape now as I was then. Yikes.

So, as far as physical wellness goes, I give Yoga a “meh,” but I’m still alive, so that’s got to count for something.

Mental Wellness

I was a lazy but content baby (so says my baby book!) and I’m a lazy but content adult. I’m probably slightly less lazy now but that’s more by necessity than by choice.

I’ve always been a happy person. I’m still a happy person even though I’ve had to accept the horribleness of being an adult. Well, at least I got my wife and kids out of the deal and they’re all cute. I like to complain about things, but just for fun. I’ve really got nothing substantial to complain about which is probably why I like to complain about insignificant things. I’m lucky that way.

My monkey mind still races and chatters away, but that’s what minds do. Yoga has definitely taught me how to control those thoughts better and how to step back and observe thoughts and emotions.

I guess I have achieved a certain level of mental wellness. Good job, Yoga.

Spiritual Wellness

I was a non-practicing (cultural) Jew when I started yoga and I still swing that way. I considered myself a secular humanist back then and I still do, not that that really means anything.

I’ve studied some Judaism, Hinduism and Buddhism in my life, plus I’ve been exposed to Christianity via my wife’s family. All of them contain interesting aspects but I don’t really believe in any of them. Plus, they’re boring and I have a short attention span. That’s why I like Samkhya and Yoga.

I consider myself more of an agnostic than an atheist now, which I guess is a softer position. I still believe that people have a soul but I just don’t think there’s a creator God that’s mucking around with us. Whatever. It’s all just a bunch of concepts attempting to describe things that we can’t possibly comprehend.

Summary

In a weird way, I guess Yoga has worked for me in the last 5 years, but not how I thought it would. It’s turned out to be not so great for me physically (in all honesty going to the gym and dieting probably would have been better) but the parts that I wasn’t actually looking for - namely, mental and spiritual peace - kind of delivered.

I guess Patanjali was right all along. Yoga is a good technique for mind control but you can spend a lot of cash on workshops and fancy mats if you’re not careful.

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VOC Podcast Episode 43: Fabulous Footwear for Fashionistas!

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:47:20 PDT

Fashionista Cody returns with some funny and functional tips for fabulous summer footwear!

Click here to listen to episode 43

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

visionsofcody.net

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Regrets? I've had a few...

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 21 May 2009 07:16:18 PDT

If I were a regular reader of this blog or a practitioner of Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga a question that I would have would be “do you regret writing the essay analyzing the potential implications of the Ashtanga teaching authorization changes now that SKPJ has passed and you’re back on the daily Ashtanga practice bandwagon?”

(That’s an excellent question, by the way. Thank you for asking it.)

First, let’s establish the fact that I have never written an essay or produced a podcast with the intention of being controversial in an attempt to boost traffic. The reason I don’t try to stir up controversy is that I believe that readers of “scandalous” blog posts are not likely to become regular readers of the blog, so what’s the point? Why risk alienating regular readers with disingenuous posts just to get a temporary popularity boost? I write whatever comes to mind, I strive to be honest, I try not to offend and I try to amuse myself. I hope people like my work but if they don’t, they don’t. It’s all for fun, anyway.

I wrote “New Frontier” one afternoon after reading about the changes at AYRI. As a long-time marketing strategist my brain has been trained to think about most things in terms of branding and consumers. I know, it’s horrible, but those samskaras run deep.

It never crossed my mind at the time that people would react so strongly to the essay. I unwittingly found myself in the middle of the controversy and at the time I did regret writing it. Not because I disagreed with what I wrote but because I didn’t want to be involved. I’ve never been to Mysore, I’m not a yoga teacher and I’m not even very good at yogasana. So, yes, last August I just wanted it all to go away. In fact, I declined a request to reprint the essay elsewhere and I largely avoided discussing the situation anywhere but on this blog.

Look, I love yoga. I’ve had an on-again, off-again relationship with Ashtanga largely because of my knees, my lifestyle and my ego. Yet every time that I quit Ashtanga I eventually find myself drawn back to it. I don’t know why. I suspect it’s because I need the demands of a daily practice – come hell or high water – to keep me on the path and Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga is still the best approach for me to daily self-practice.

I guess it takes a tough Guru to make a tamasic tender!

I’ve been getting back in the groove as of late by doing suryanamaskara and the standing series each weekday morning. No teacher, no classes, no next poses, nothing. I go to Bikram class when I can for fun, but it doesn’t replace my morning practice. So far it’s working out great.

A confession: I find that I’m no longer really interested in yoga “culture.” Sometimes I’ll see an e-mail for a ridiculous workshop or I’ll read a silly bio in the Kripalu catalog and I’ll be tempted to write a post about it. But I never do because I just don’t care about the scene anymore. My yoga is very stripped-down these days: 30 to 45 minutes of postures, breathing and sitting with no music, no videos and no frills. I’m not working on anything - I’m just working.

But enough about me – let’s talk about the essay. Re-reading the essay I was struck by how neutral it is. I ride the fence all the way. I basically say that if they decide to reduce the number of teachers to keep the practice pure it’s not a bad thing but the unintended consequence might be a watered-down version of Ashtanga in the US if there aren’t enough teachers to satisfy the demand. I suggest that there could be a profit motive but I certainly don’t accuse them of such. I’m still fine with everything that I wrote.

Most of the criticism seems to be based on the fact that many people think yoga shouldn’t ever be discussed in capitalistic terms. I still find that argument to be incredibly naïve. Yoga is eternal and will appear in all types of societies. Those societies will change yoga and yoga will change those societies. We live in a capitalist society so of course US yoga needs to be discussed on those terms. Pretending otherwise is probably why so many yoga businesses struggle. Sure, we all wish that America was a socialist utopia with universal health care, ice hockey on every channel and an endless supply of delicious beer. But this isn’t that magical fantasy land, if it even exists.

But I still wish that I didn’t write the essay. Reliable sources tell me that the AYRI is a sincere family business that grew out of control and they’re just doing what they can to keep up. The teachings of Guruji and his students have meant a lot to me over the years. I hate to think that my random thoughts on the subject helped to fuel some kind of anti-AYRI sentiment. I never intended that to happen. So there you have it – while I still agree with what I wrote I’m sorry that I wrote it and I apologize to anyone who was offended by the essay.

(p.s. I’m still okay with the Anusara jokes, though. Ha!)

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Thank you Guruji

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 18 May 2009 07:02:46 PDT

I wasn't a direct student of yours nor was I always a very good student.

But your teachings have meant a lot to me and I practice them still.

Thank you for your lifetime of service.

Sri Krishna Pattabhi Jois, 1915-2009

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VOC Podcast Episode 42: Deconstructing Star Trek

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:47:09 PDT

Noted Star Trek expert Captain Dunsel joins Cody to discuss and review the new film. Plus, a never before told tale about William Shatner, the original Captain Kirk, is finally shared.

Click here (after listening) to see Cody's infamous Crayola picture.

(By the way, there are many spoilers involved.)

Click here to listen to episode 42

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

visionsofcody.net

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Déjà vu

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:47:34 PDT

It’s June, 1981. My family is in San Francisco, accompanying my Dad on a business trip. We’re eating Ghiardelli chocolate. We’re reading “Choose your own adventure” books. We’re happy, blissfully unaware of what is coming next.

Our family is invited out to dinner by a business associate of my Dad's. We’re supposed to go to Indian food. We’ve never had Indian food before. We like Chinese food. We like Italian food. We like Jewish deli. We like American food. We’re nervous about Indian food.

The place is nice. We sit on the floor. There are lots of little bowls everywhere. Each dish is worse than the next. We act polite. We eat a little of everything. It feels very Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (sans the monkey brain...I hope).

After dinner my family leaves the restaurant united in our dislike of Indian food. We go out for burgers. It’s one of those wonderful, bonding family moments that we’ll all remember forever.

***

It’s May, 2009. We’re going to an Indian restaurant in Salem, MA on our way to see Star Trek. I’m hoping that my 5 years of yoga practice has transformed my body into an Indian-food eating machine. I solicit advice on what to eat and receive many wonderful suggestions (thank you).

We order vegetable pakora, naan, chicken tandoori, chicken makhni (redundant, obviously). I also try the cheese pakora, the mint sauce and the other sauce.

I tried people. Oh how I tried to like it. But it was all so gross. So. Very. Gross. Even the two Kingfisher beers couldn’t help. Maybe it’s the curry. Maybe it’s the consistency. Maybe it’s the predominance of garlic and onions. But it was all too much for me. I was a ten year old boy once again, but this time there were no burgers at the end of the meal.

***

At the theater I cleansed my pallet with an entire bag of Sour Patch Kids. They were delicious. On a side note, Star Trek was the greatest movie ever made in the history of movies (but we’ll get to that later in the week).

Thanks anyway!

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VOC Podcast Episode 41: Manny Don't Lie

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:46:54 PDT

Cody reacts to the devastating news that Manny Ramirez, former Red Sox great, got busted for using steroids. As Frank once sang, "Cheatin' shows and it never goes...you got a reason to be mad I suppose..."

Click here to listen to episode 41

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

visionsofcody.net

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Yoga Team Powers Activate!

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:47:34 PDT

****EMERGENCY HELP REQUIRED****

Dear Friends,

The good news is that I'm going to see Star Trek tomorrow night.

The bad news (for me) is that we'll be eating at an (allegedly good) Indian food restaurant before the movie.

As you may know, I am not a fan of Indian food. But since I know that a lot of you are, could you please help me out with your food recommendations (or else I'll be eating lots of Naan.)

The rules:

1) I don't like garlic
2) I don't like onions
3) 'Mushy' isn't my favorite consistency

Thank you so much. You're all the best.

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Shooting the Newb

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:48:03 PDT

It’s finally happened. I’m officially old.

Why, you ask?

Because the other day we were “Shooting the Newb”* and we had our inaugural outdoor lunch for the season.

(* One of our friends contends that “Shooting the Newb” is the trendy new term for walking down Newbury Street in Boston. Newbury Street is famous for fancy boutiques, Euro-trash, disappointing restaurants and tourists. I don’t know anyone that actually shops on Newbury Street for real, but its fun to walk around and look at the fancy boutiques, Euro-trash, disappointing restaurants and tourists clutching their stuffed lobsters, Harvard tee shirts, Boston Baked Beans novelty candy and Cheers mugs. My opinion is that “Shooting the Newb” is a joke term that the trendy kids are trying to trick us non-hipsters into using. The jury is still out.)

Where were we? Oh yeah, we were eating lunch al fresco on Newbury Street and we saw a sign for “free coffee” from a fancy new organic coffee shop across the street. Liking both “coffee” and “free” we went in. While waiting for our drinks I exclaimed: “I hate to say it, but the music’s a little loud in here, isn’t it?”

Arrggh! What happened to me? I can’t believe that I – already deaf from too many rock concerts – actually found myself thinking that something was too loud.

It’s over. I guess it’s time to buy some sansabelt slacks and white loafers. On the plus side, I hear that there are some great deals down in Boca these days.

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Vespa vs. Second Car: The Showdown

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Tue, 05 May 2009 11:37:41 PDT

In the past I’ve mentioned that we purchased a Vespa last summer instead of buying a second car. I figured that I would provide an update on how it’s working out for us, just in case you were thinking of buying a Vespa (or another scooter) for yourself.

We got a new 2008 Vespa LX50 and all in all it cost a little more than $4,000. It was delivered last August after we waited about a month for our preferred color (metallic blue is one of the more macho Vespa colors.) At the time they were running a “no money down/no interest for 12 months” deal so we didn’t have any financing costs. Also, in Massachusetts the 50cc engine is considered a moped so there’s no requirement for a motorcycle license or insurance. You just need to get a sticker from the Registry, which the dealer handled for us. By the way, our dealer was great but you can’t test drive a Vespa and they sold it above sticker price, so it's definitely a risky purchase.

The first thing that you’ll notice about the Vespa is that it’s heavier than you think (about 200 pounds) and it takes a little practice to get it up on the kickstand. Smaller and/or weaker people might have trouble with this aspect – which can be a deal breaker. Obviously, a manly yoga practitioner like me has no problem hoisting it around.

The second thing you’ll quickly realize is that the machine must be respected. It takes practice to be comfortable riding on it and even with a helmet you realize that you can easily be injured or killed riding in traffic. Falling off the Vespa would really suck. Don’t underestimate the machine. It’s more like a wimpy motorcycle than a souped-up bicycle.

Once you’re comfortable riding the Vespa is a sheer joy. You feel less cut-off from the outside world. There’s no radio, no coffee, no distractions. It handles beautifully, the electric start is perfect and it’s really comfortable. It’s truly a work of art.

Navigating traffic takes some experience. My rule of thumb is to drive 5 miles over the speed limit - unless I see the po-po coming – then I gun that bitch and watch the chumps eat my dust!

Actually, it’s really important to know the road that you’re driving. I’d never go on any road that was above 35. The LX50 is pretty good off the line and will top out at about 40 on a straightaway or 45 downhill. But if you hit a steep hill on a fast road before you reach top speed you definitely risk causing a logjam behind you. The only time that I’ll ride on the right side is if I know I’m slowing down traffic. Most of the time I stay about 5 above the limit, in the center of the lane, and I don’t care if people are behind me. The way I see it is if there was an old lady in a Skylark driving 5 above the limit on a local road you wouldn’t run her down, would you? (Well, maybe if she had a “Don’t blame me I voted for McCain” bumper sticker I would.)

The Vespa is obviously seasonal. We were able to ride it until mid-November before it got too cold and we started again in mid-April when the temperatures starting hitting 50. Obviously we can’t ride it if the forecast calls for rain.

We generally use the Vespa for the train station (my wife drives it to the station and I drive it home) which is great because it’s free to park the Vespa (cars cost $4 a day!) We put a motorcycle lock through the front tire and the helmet stores in the seat. We also have a rack on the back for a bag or yoga mat. We have a cover but we don’t bother using it.

The Vespa takes premium gas and a tank is about 2 gallons. You get well over 100 miles per tank, so fuel isn’t a real factor. Actually, there’s no real on-going cost for the Vespa once you pay for it. Minimal gas, no insurance, no parking – it’s definitely much, much cheaper to keep than a car.

But, in all honesty, it’s also less dependable than a car. You can’t travel far, you can’t use it in the winter and you can’t use it in the rain. You also can’t really take any passengers (there’s room for one but not enough power.) There is an impressive amount of storage for a small bike (glove box, seat hook, under seat and optional rack/trunk.)

People smile at you when you drive by on a Vespa and it’s a happy “that looks like fun” smile, not a pathetic “look at that loser” smile, either. Or maybe it is a “pathetic loser” smile but I’m too oblivious to realize. That would explain why that boy Nelson was pointing at me and saying “haw haw.”

In conclusion, if you only sort of need a second car I would definitely recommend the Vespa. It’s fairly useful and it’s a hell of a lot of fun to drive. I’d much rather have the Vespa than some $4,000 shitbox car. But if you really need a car for everyday usage then the Vespa doesn’t really cut it. Plus, if you go for the bigger engine (LX150) in the theory that you could drive on major roads you’re going to lose all of the advantages of having a moped, because then you’ll need a motorcycle license and insurance, you’ll still get wet in the rain and tween boys will still make fun of you.

My Vespa. I love it. But as the kids say: your mileage may vary.

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It’s Happening Again!?!

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Sat, 02 May 2009 15:29:07 PDT

I can feel things shifting again. I don’t know why it happens. I just know that it’s happening and I’ve got to go with it.

It’s been 6 months since I dedicated myself to the Bikram practice. In that time I’ve hit 41 classes and I’ve mostly done one-set Bikram home practices.

I say mostly because I have to admit that I’ve missed more morning practices in the last 6 months than I have in years. I’d guess that I’ve probably been averaging 4 practices a week – one to two at the studio and two to three at home. Toss in my prodigious meat-eating and one starts to understand why I’ve porked up to 10 pounds above my Mendoza line. Obviously this is unacceptable.

As a result, a few weeks ago this old junkie found himself huddled in the dark with a needle (the Ashtanga standing series) and a spoon (a black manduka on the living room floor) starting all over again.

It’s safe to say that I love set sequences. Sri Bikram’s sequence is amazing. Nothing feels quite as horrible and wonderful (at the same time) as a sweaty Bikram class. But I think it’s safe to say – after 6 months of trying - that it’s not well-suited for home practice. It’s a studio practice. You need the heat. You need both sets. You need the dialogue and the timekeeping from the teacher.

Ashtanga is perfectly designed for solo home practice. I need the daily home practice. Life is better when you start the day with a little yoga. But I can’t do the real deal Ashtanga thing either. My knees can’t handle too many of the postures. My life doesn’t accommodate being a good mysore-style student. And I can’t handle the wanting-postures-so-I-feel-like-a-real-boy thing either.

So here’s my latest plan: Ashtanga standing series every weekday morning plus my usual one to two Bikram studio classes each week. I will measure progress merely by seeing if I can stick to the schedule.

I know it seems like I’m setting the bar too low by only going to virabhadrasasana (I had previously been given up to bhujapindasana) but it allows me to practice methodically with some sitting or a long savasana in about 30 minutes a day. Since I can’t do ardha baddha padmottanasana I should technically stop there, anyway.

Plus, everything requires too much effort now. It's amazing how quickly you can lose your asana mojo. But I'm clawing my way back.

I’ll let you know what happens.

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Is That Kosher?

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 07:22:43 PDT

It looks like the local JCC is starting an invigorating new workout...

BodyPump 69 Kick Off is May 1

Discover the new music and techniques of BodyPump 69 at the BodyPump 69 Kick Off at 9:30 a.m. Friday, May 1. "BodyPump 69 is the fastest way to get in shape; it's the original body bar workout guaranteed to tone your body, build muscular strength and endurance" says redacted}, JCC group exercise and dance director. {redacted} will lead the class along with {redacted} and {redacted}.

Prize giveaways and refreshments will be served. Reservations are strongly recommended to guarantee a spot in class.

Now, I realize that everyone in the world isn't as immature as I am, but really? BodyPump 69? Nobody said, "hey, love the workout, but can we drop the 69 from the name?"

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Strangers I Love: Old Man Jogger

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:48:03 PDT

Today we introduce a new feature to Visions of Cody, “Strangers I Love,” love letters written to random people that I don’t know. Think of it as nothing less than a celebration of humanity!

Dear Old Man Jogger,

Please know that today and forevermore I love you.

I love how you jog up and down my street every day. Well, I suspect that you run every day but I don’t actually see you every day. Perhaps you take a day or two off a week. You probably should. You don’t want to get shin splints or anything.

I love you because you’re old and you jog. You jog a lot more than I do and I’m at least 40 years younger than you. You jog by my house. You jog on the promenade by the beach and you probably jog in other areas that I don’t frequent.

I love you even though your ribbed wife beater is threadbare and full of holes. I love you even though you look kind of grouchy. I love you even though you barely grunted at me that one time I said “hi” to you. And I still love you even though you smelt really, really bad that one time I tried to say “hi” to you.

I consider you an inspiration to all old people between 70 and 85. I thank you on behalf of the oldsters in town.

On the other hand, you should probably know that you make people my age feel guilty. I know that I feel guilty when you jog by my house and I’m stuffing yet another Suzy-Q down my piehole.

Either way, I just wanted to say that I love you. And good luck with the jogging.

Love Always,

Cody

###

VOC Podcast Episode 40: Author Mark St. Amant Interview

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:46:54 PDT

Mark St. Amant, author of "Committed: Confessions of a Fantasy Football Junkie" and "Just Kick It: Tales of an Underdog, Over-Age, Out-of-Place Semi-Pro Football Player" joins Cody to discuss writing, sports and a myriad of other fascinating topics.

Click here to listen to episode 40

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

visionsofcody.net

###

Lost Post: Career Opportunities

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 12:59:48 PDT

I'm not sure why I never posted this essay. It looks finished to me. Maybe I thought it was too cynical. But there are probably enough good jokes for a rainy day clouded with a Manischewitz hangover.

***

When I was a kid I wanted to be an airplane pilot. I just thought it was the coolest job ever – wearing the snappy-looking uniform, making the Captain’s announcements, shagging stewardesses – could there be a better gig? I don’t think so.

One time after a flight I went up to the Captain and told him about my dream of becoming a pilot. He looked me up and down and told me something that I’ll never forget:

“Forget it, kid. You can’t be a pilot. You wear glasses.”

What a jerk! I was briefly devastated. Then I went back to reading my Richie Rich comic book. I wasn’t that committed to being a pilot, but still, that guy sure was a douchebag. I mean, I was just a stupid kid. He could have just patted me on the head and said: “good for you, tiger.”

Looking back I now realize that being an airplane pilot is probably the worst job in the world. You’ve basically a bus driver, ferrying people across the country in your big stinky bus in the sky. Plus I haven’t seen a hot stewardess in years and the uniform is tres dorky.

As the years pass more and more professions lose their appeal to me. I once thought that it would be fun to be a deejay. Cracking jokes, playing music and becoming a famous local celebrity seemed like a dream come true. But the reality is that most deejays make a ridiculously low salary. The music isn’t picked by them and they have to be “on” all the time. They get fired frequently and they need to move cities to get a new job. Plus, the advent of podcasting means that all of us can be deejays whenever we want. We can say whatever we like. We can blow off work when we feel like it. Sure, there’s no money to be made in podcasting, but there’s complete creative freedom and you don’t have to hand out bumper stickers at the Kum-n-Go grand opening, either.

Once upon a time, being a dentist seemed like a pretty swell job. You make good money. You work for yourself and can knock off early if you feel like playing golf during the week. You’re kind of a doctor but you’d don’t have the pressure of people dying on your watch. Best of all you get an unlimited supply of nitrous to suck on. And yet, now I realize that being a dentist must be terrible because you spend your whole day with your mitts jammed into someone’s stinky pie hole. And everyone’s afraid of you. And too much nitrous makes you think that the lawn ornaments are conspiring against you.

Stand-up comedians might have it the worst. After years of honing your material at open-mike nights and Chinese restaurants the best you can hope for is a life on the road, telling the same jokes to drunks at small-town clubs 300 nights a year. You sleep in dingy motels and are frequently reduced to rooting through dumpsters for lunch. And maybe just maybe you’ll be lucky enough to film half a dozen episodes of some crappy sitcom before heading back on the road.

You see, I’ve finally figured out why society forces us to choose a career path at such a young age. I always though that it was crazy that teenagers have to make life decisions that will impact them forever. Should I go to college? Where should I go? What should I major in? Where should I intern? It seems like a heavy burden for people that are really only interested in getting laid and telling their parents to screw.

But the scam is that adults already know that all jobs really suck, no matter how cool they seem from afar. And if everyone waited until they knew the truth to decide what to do in life, then everyone would choose to do nothing. And there would be no pilots to ferry us across the country, no deejays to annoy us with their inane banter, no dentists to drill our cavities and no stand-up comedians to occupy our cheap motels.

See, the world really does make sense after all.

###

In Praise of Kevins

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 11:28:25 PDT

This morning I ran into a friend on my way out of the studio. We chatted for a few minutes about this (new Star Trek) and that (old MST3K) and then I headed on my merry way. Kevin is a good guy and it’s always nice to run into him. We’ve known each other for about 13 years now.

Walking back to the office I realized that I’ll be seeing another Kevin tonight at yoga. I’ve known Yoga Kevin for about 5 years and I love him dearly. That’s +2 for Kevins.

Thinking about every Kevin that I’ve ever known I honestly can’t recall a bad Kevin.

My first Kevin was a childhood friend. I don’t remember much about him but I sure do remember his two hot sisters! Hoo-hah!

The worst Kevin I ever knew was a former client. He was kind of a cock-knocker (I just learned that one the other day!) but he didn’t really qualify as a bad Kevin. One time we ran out to grab lunch at a deli and when I offered to pay he actually went back in line to get a salad for his wife for dinner. That’s actually a pretty funny move.

The famous Kevins are all great, too.

Amongst Kevin actors there’s Kevin Bacon (Footloose), Kevin Costner (The Untouchables), Kevin Smith (Clerks), Kevin James (Mall Cop), Kevin Kline (The Big Chill), Kevin Nealon (@kevin_nealon), Kevin Pollak (A Few Good Men), Kevin Sorbo (Hercules), Kevin Spacey (The Usual Suspects) and the great voice actor Kevin Michael Richardson.

For some reason Boston has been graced with the three best Kevin athletes. There’s Kevin Garnett and Kevin McHale from the Celts and Kevin Faulk from the Pats.

Unfortunately, Kevins fall short in the music world. All you get is Federline, one of the Jonas Brothers and a Backstreet Boy. That’s pretty weak.

According to the internet, “Kevin, [is] a 2-syllable boy's name of Celtic/Gaelic origin, means: One who is gentle; handsome.”

Now, as a general rule I don’t believe anything, but I do believe in ~~the Jersey Devil~~ baby name meanings. I know that baby name meanings are true because both of my sons take after their names. What other evidence do I need?

So, to all of my pregnant Irish readers, please follow my advice and name your son Kevin. You’re guaranteed to be rewarded with a funny fellow that’s a good actor with some athletic inclination.

Don’t let him get into music, though. He’ll just end up joining a boy band and breaking hearts.

###

Title Song

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 09:21:31 PDT

For many years I’ve harbored a deep suspicion that the one thing that stands between me and super success in life is my lack of title. It seems like everywhere I go the high rollers are always flaunting their titles – Doctor this, General that, etc. And what have I got? Nothing. I’ve got “Mister” which totally blows.

“Mister” is the worst title because every adult male gets it for doing nothing but surviving puberty. At least boys get “Master” which sounds a hell of a lot more powerful than “Mister.” You know what? “Mister” is a downgrade from “Master.” I’m actually worse off now then I was 30 years ago.

I’ve been wrestling with this dilemma for many years now and to be honest I’ve kind of lost hope in scoring a cool title. I guess I’ve also kind of lost hope in ever being super successful in life.

Education seems like the easiest way to get a title. All you need to do is pay a few hundred grand, go to school until you’re 30, crank out some boring-ass dissertation and you’re an instant “Doctor.” If I was a non-medical doctor I would never get tired of calling myself “Doctor” and letting people think that I’m a medical doctor.

It’s too bad that me and school didn’t exactly see eye to eye the first time around. I’m totally smart but I’m just not cut out for overly standardized schooling methods like going to class and doing homework. It’s really our cookie-cutter-one-size-fits-all society’s fault that I’m not a non-medical Doctor right now.

The Military is another great option for getting a sweet title. My problem with the military is that I could never quite pick a branch to commit to. I look terrible with a high and tight haircut so the Marines are out. Kerchiefs chafe my neck so the Navy is out. I’m a terrible driver so the Air Force is definitely out. And those Army uniforms are just too drab and dreary for words. Nope, I’m definitely not cut out for the military life, not even considering my general laziness and anti-authoritarian tendencies.

Another option, admittedly more difficult, is to get some foreign noble to award me a title for outstanding service to the crown. Now I’m not stupid enough to think that Queen Elizabeth reads my blog but her burnout grandson Harry just might. ‘alo ‘arry! Can you get Grams to hook me up? Brilliant!

Let's be serious here folks. It’s just not going to happen. I’ve started to accept the fact that I will have to be content to live and die merely as boring Mister Pomeray - not sexy Doctor Pomeray, stern General Pomeray or brave Sir Pomeray.

Stop the virtual presses! The most wonderful thing just happened! I read a letter in the local paper that was signed by a “Commodore.” And I was all like “Commodore? Commodore of what?” And it turns out that this jackass Commodore is the Commodore of the dumpy yacht club in the seaside shanty where I live. And a little resarch shows that you don't need to know or do anything to be the Commodore of a yacht club. Perfect!

That’s the ticket! Commodore is a fucking rock start title. I put that shit on my business card and I’m set for life. Commodore Pomeray has a nice ring to it, too.

So, problem solved. My new goal in life is to infiltrate the yacht club and stage a bloodless coup. And then I will have a title – Commodore, no less - at long last.

Now all I need is a boat.

###

"Enlighten Up!" - theater info, director interview and film review about the new yoga documentary

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 07:48:52 PDT

Back in September I had the pleasure of attending the premiere of the wonderful yoga documentary "Enlighten Up!" At the time, most people wanted to know when the film would receive a general release.

Well, the big day is finally here as "Enlighten Up!" begins its official run today in NYC. I've listed the latest information at the bottom of this post and you can find the updated list of cities, dates and theaters here.

***

Even if you can't see the film today, you can still listen to my James Lipton-esque interview with director Kate Churchill, originally released as VOC Podcast Episode 26.

***

I also wrote a long review of the film that you might enjoy reading:

Disclaimer…Potential Spoilers Ahead

Any film review will necessarily reflect the coloring of the author’s mind, based upon their conditioned existence, habitual thought patterns and inability to find a cab in the rain on the way to the premiere.

If you don’t like reading reviews that give away plot points, please don’t read beyond the capsule review. I really don’t give away too much in the personal review (and it won’t ruin the movie anyway) but if you don’t like spoilers then please don’t read it!

Capsule Review

Kate Churchill’s new yoga documentary, "Enlighten Up!", is an engaging and enjoyable film that traces Nick Rosen’s attempted journey to enlightenment in a quick-moving and humorous fashion. Beautifully-shot and smartly-edited, “Enlighten Up!” will certainly appeal to dedicated yogis but is also the perfect introduction to yoga for the non-practitioner, adroitly presenting the variety, richness and paradoxes contained within the ancient practice through interviews with well-known yogis and Nick’s personal reflections. Like many spiritual paths, the journey charted in “Enlighten Up!” reveals itself to be far more meaningful than the presumed destination.

“Enlighten Up!” is a sincere, thoughtful and funny movie that is a welcome addition to the growing canon of modern films about yoga. Go see it when it comes to a ‘siddhi’ near you! Final score: 6/7 chakras.

Personal Review

“Enlighten Up!” is a film that can easily be enjoyed on a superficial level as pure yoga-tainment. Between the compelling premise, beautiful footage and interesting interviews, “Enlighten Up!” is that rare yoga commodity – one that actually entertains.

In truth, however, “Enlighten Up!” is a slyly subversive and challenging film. It raises difficult questions about yoga and its modern adherents.

The humor in this film is almost entirely based on an outsider’s bemused perspective on the absurdities and contradictions that permeate modern yoga culture. Kate and her editing team (Jonathan Sahula and Khari Streeter) have chosen a dangerous path by risking having the audience take offense at the brutally honest portrayal of yoga culture contained within the film. Make no mistake: they could have used the exact same footage to craft a safe, respectful film that glorified and celebrated the perspectives of well-known yogis from around the globe. It would have been beautiful, of interest to dedicated yogis and probably a little boring. Thankfully, they chose a more interesting route. We all know that there are a lot of fools, charlatans and hypocrites in the yoga world and “Enlighten Up!” has no qualms in exposing them. This film is definitely not for those yogis that take themselves too seriously.

The set-up is simple. Can a skeptical journalist from NYC find enlightenment through a 6-month immersion in yoga? We follow the likable Nick Rosen from NY to Hawaii to India and back again as he learns from, and practices with, an astounding collection of well-known yoga teachers. He initially samples many styles of hatha yoga (e.g. Bikram, Iyengar, Ashtanga, etc.) before delving into a different type of yoga altogether- bhakti yoga, the yoga of devotion.

Many of the featured yogis convey interesting or profound ideas. For example, Norman Allen berates a sore Nick for trying too hard to achieve postures and informs him that there’s no ‘token’ for getting a pose. Pattabhi Jois makes a compelling case for the value of practice, practice, practice. BKS Iyengar gives Nick ‘permission’ to not worry about finding spirituality in yoga, explaining that he himself practiced for 26 years before finding spirituality. There’s a treasure trove of wisdom provided in these vignettes (well, some of them at least) but most striking of all is that a film about yoga (union) focuses on the disunity that abounds within the modern yoga community. How can Nick possibly find enlightenment when he can’t even find consensus?

As the journey progresses we realize two things: First, Nick seems to be getting no closer to enlightenment - much to Kate’s consternation. Second, we seem to be getting no closer to receiving answers to the “big questions” - What exactly is enlightenment? What is the connection between asana and enlightenment? Does yoga work?

As Kate’s frustration rises, Nick’s commitment wanes and our faith in the power of yoga begins to waver. That is until we find ourselves joining Nick at the feet of Guru Saran Ananda, whose radiant presence literally bursts off the screen. Nick’s conversation with the Guru is - pardon the pun – enlightening. The emotional and spiritual center of the movie is revealed in one simple quote:

“It’s not what you do, it’s why you do.”

Talk about killing the Buddha! A dedicated yoga practitioner goes out to make a film that proves that yoga works and instead she discovers that yoga doesn’t really matter at all! True enlightenment (or perhaps, true contentment) can be found merely by living selflessly – by rooting individual actions in pure intentions. Sure, yoga techniques can be wonderful tools for gaining self awareness and stripping away the dross that obscures our true selves, but yoga is certainly not the only path to enlightenment. For some people, it actually might not be a path to enlightenment at all.

This insight compels the viewer to reconsider their personal motivations towards practice. The thesis is no longer ‘does yoga work?’ Rather, the question has become ‘why do I practice?’ Do I practice for the body, for the ego, or for something greater?

The viewer of “Enlighten Up!” starts as a voyeur, detachedly observing Nick and his mélange of teachers, nodding at the wise and laughing at the fools. But after meeting with Guru Saran Ananda, the screen suddenly transforms into a mirror and the observer becomes the observed. It no longer matters whether Nick finds enlightenment over the course of his short journey. What matters is whether you’ll find enlightenment through your practice – whatever that practice happens to be.

“Enlighten Up!” is a great film for the dedicated practitioner as well as those with just a passing interest in the subject - but for very different reasons. For the non-yogi it provides a broad and amusing insight into the oft-ridiculous modern world of yoga. For the practitioner, it provides nothing less than an opportunity for reflection and self-study.

So, as I said above:

“Enlighten Up!” is a sincere, thoughtful and funny movie that is a welcome addition to the growing canon of modern films about yoga. Go see it when it comes to a ‘siddhi’ near you! Final score: 6/7 chakras.

***

Finally, here's the current list of cities, dates & theaters:

New York City, NY
4/1/09
IFC Center

Los Angeles, CA
4/17/09
Monica 4-plex

Pasadena, CA
4/17/09
Pasadena Playhouse 7

Irvine, CA
4/17/09
Edward’s Westpark 8

San Francisco, CA
5/1/09
Embarcadero Center Cinema

Berkeley, CA
5/1/09
Shattuck Cinemas

San Diego, CA
5/8/09
Ken Cinema

Santa Cruz, CA
5/8/09
The Nickelodeon

St. Louis, MI
5/8/09
Tivoli Theatre

Seattle, WA
5/15/09
Varsity Theatre

Portland, OR
5/15/09
Fox Tower Stadium 10

Bend, OR
5/15/09
Regal Pilot Butte 6 Theaters

Santa Fe, NM
5/22/09
CCA Cinematheque

Tempe, AZ
5/22/09
Harkins Valley Art Theater

Atlanta, GA
5/29/09
Midtown Art Cinema

Philadelphia, PA
5/29/09
Ritz at the Bourse

Washington, DC
6/5/09
E Street Cinema

Cleveland, OH
6/5/09
Cedar Lee Theatre

Kansas City, MO
6/5/09
Tivoli Cinema

Chicago, IL
6/12/09
Century Centre Cinema

Minneapolis, MN
6/12/09
Landmark Theatres - TBD

Austin, TX
6/19/09
Regal Arbor Cinema

Ann Arbor, MI
6/26/09
Michigan Theater

Madison, WI
6/26/09
Sundance Cinemas

Sacramento, CA
6/26/09
Crest Theatre

Support yoga cinema! Go see "Enlighten Up!"

###

Sheets of Fire

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 06:30:36 PDT

An odd thought surfaced as I was getting out of the shower today. It was:

This towel is older than my children.

The scary part, naturally, is that our eldest child is nearly nine years old.

Certain household items, like towels and sheets, seem to survive forever. I can usually carbon-date our linens by thread count. I didn’t even know what a thread count was when I first started buying linens a dozen years ago so the oldest stuff is scratchy and misshapen. Nowadays I’ll wake at night screaming in pain if my linens weren’t rolled between the thighs of an Egyptian virgin. What can I say? I have sensitive skin.

My old pillow collection in the attic is up to at least 13. I’m well prepared to host a lot of houseguests simultaneously, as I have the necessary pillows, sheets and towels for at least a dozen guests (thread count not guaranteed). My only problem is that I’m a little short on actual beds. We have a comfortable queen-sized futon and an uncomfortable queen-sized pull-out couch bed. Throw in the unused half of the bunk bed and that’s only 5 vacancies. I suppose that means that I could throw away 8 sets of pillows, sheets and towels, but I never do.

The weird thing is that I’m not a pack rat at all. I love closet change-over season. I try on every single article of clothing and give anything that doesn’t fit perfectly to the bums. The only things that I collect are books and music. Everything else gets tossed or recycled.

In fact, I’m such an inverse pack rat that sometimes I sneak around at night and throw away toys that are particularly cheap or annoying. I’m like bizarro Santa Claus, stealing cookies and toys while little children sleep. I’ve even convinced my kids that there’s a real game called “smash or trash” where you go through all your toys and throw away the bad ones.

But somehow the sheets and towels always survive my terrible wrath.

Thinking about it, I guess that the reason I don’t throw away linens is two-fold. First, linens are shockingly expensive – especially those with five-digit thread counts. Secondly, shopping for linens is sheer torture. Bed & Bath stores are tied with candle stores for the most boring and unsatisfying shopping experience. Show me a man that enjoys shopping for linens and I’ll show you a man that thinks Andrew Lloyd Weber is underappreciated.

The next time you’re visiting Boston please feel free to drop me a line. I can’t guarantee you a bed but I’ll definitely have some sheets, towels and pillows ready for you.

###

Who you callin' attached?

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 09:27:47 PDT

Vairagya (dispassion or non-attachment) is a fun yet confusing yoga topic. People tend to use it as a type of mantra, telling themselves not to be attached to things that they’re quite obviously attached to. But it only really counts as non-attachment if desire is completely absent. So telling yourself not to be attached to something that you’re secretly attached to isn’t actually a practice of non-attachment. It’s a practice of pratipaksha – cultivating the opposite – which is useful in and of itself.

The other night I figured that I’d practice a little non-attachment by setting up in a different part of the room for class. Since I’m not really attached to any particular spot in the room I guess this counts as a non-attachment practice.

Actually, I tend to prefer the center of the room in the front or middle row, so I guess that I do have some attachments. Oh well. Please ignore whatever I said about non-attachment above.

Moving to the back row and detachedly observing my mental fluctuations was very interesting. It’s always fun to observe mental fluctuations, especially when your fluctuations are as mental as mine tend to be.

I knew that the back of the room would be cooler and I observed that I was happy about this at first. I was able to put more effort into each standing pose because I wasn’t worried about having to leave any ‘gas in the tank’ for later. Over the years I’ve learned (the hard way) that you’ve got to pace yourself. If you put too much effort into the standing postures in a really hot room you run the risk of literally wilting during the floor postures. So I was initially pleased with the lower heat. I even attempted to legitimately put my head on my knee in standing head to knee, which is a rarity.

In the second half of the class, however, I found myself getting peeved whenever I felt a cool breeze. Some of the other students looked hot and sweaty but I was fine and didn’t appreciate when the door was briefly opened. I guess that I’ve learned that I like my room consistently medium hot.

The energy in the back of the room was different, too. Usually I’m surrounded by people whose physical practices are equal or better than mine. In the back row I was surrounded by beginners that were really struggling. I don’t think it affected me too much, but I certainly had thoughts like: “that dude’s really huffing and puffing,” and “that dude is going to have a heart attack,” and “that dude might be better off if he lost the shirt and the socks” and "that dude is doing the real deal savasana - someone call an ambulance!"

Being in the back gives you a panoramic view of the entire class. I wasn’t terribly distracted by the other people but I found myself missing the proximity to the mirror. There’s something nice about being able to stare straight ahead into your reflection and zoning the rest of the world out.
I know that people criticize the mirrors in a Bikram class because they think that it’s narcissistic, but used correctly the mirrors can be great. They allow you to self-check your alignment and you can use your own eyes as a very trippy driste point.

All in all I was happy with my experiment but I think that I’ll be returning to the middle-row next class. No offense to the front row or the back row, but I’m always striving to be a middle path kind of person.

The again, if I can’t get my desired spot I will softy, yet inaccurately, mutter to myself “non-attachment, non-attachment.”

###

VOC Podcast Episode 39: Dissent into Madness

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 19:51:28 PDT

Your old pal Cody either really loves or really hates "March Madness". Listen to this week's episode to find out which!

Click here to listen to episode 39

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

visionsofcody.net

###

VOC Podcast Episode 37

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 19:40:25 PDT

Ever wonder what happens when a New England Yankee gets himself stuck in Arkansas? Listen to VOC Podcast Episode 37 and find out!

Click here to listen to episode 37

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

visionsofcody.net

###

Killing time in airports

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Sun, 15 Mar 2009 09:03:15 PDT

Killing time in airports, I occupy myself by observing the people around me. I bestow upon them elaborate back stories based upon the obvious clues: their body language, their clothing, who they’re with, how they speak, what they say.

If I’m sitting next to them at the Wolfgang Puck Express I may catch snippets of their conversation. Perhaps I’ll learn about their job or the purpose of their journey. But I never want to learn too much. Knowing too much breaks the spell.

I never speak to these strangers. That too would break the spell. But I support them in their career struggles and in their romantic yearnings. I feel their suffering and I mostly forgive their failings. Sometimes I’m jealous of them and sometimes I hate them but in the end I will come to know them.

Given enough time these strangers will magically transform into close friends and I will know everything about them. I will know their deepest, darkest secrets. I will know their darkest fears. I will know of their greatest victories and their harshest defeats.

These apparitions will solidify and we will be forever connected. We are one, these former strangers and I. But these friends always betray me. Later, when we pass each other near the TCBY they act as if we’ve never met. They ignore me, probably out of embarrassment. They know that I know too much.

How dare they reject me? Don’t they know that I could destroy them as easily as I have created them? I have given them life, I have given them breath and I have given them their stories without asking for anything in return.

But I am nothing if not forgiving. So I allow them to ignore me, to reject me and I say nothing. I absorb their blows and their insults and still I say nothing. But deep down inside I know that they know that I know the truth.

###

VOC Podcast Episode 36

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 17:58:04 PDT

Season Two of the Visions of Cody podcast kicks off with an exciting look at body piercing!

Click here to listen to episode 36

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

visionsofcody.net

Are you there God? It’s me, Cody

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 10:18:59 PST

It’s pretty evident to me that there is no creator God – or more specifically that man wasn’t created in God’s image – because of the crappy job that he/she/it did. It’s obvious that the human being is a pretty poorly designed machine. This can only mean one of two things: 1) there is no creator God; or 2) Our creator God is a pretty shoddy craftsman.

On a purely physical level, the human machine doesn’t even work very well. We get sick at the slightest hint of cold. We’re constantly hungry and then we complain about how the food tastes. And what kind of cruel God would make all of the healthy food taste shitty and all of the delicious food bad for you? That’s just wrong. You’re telling me that God prefers tofu to Twinkies? I could never worship any God that values tofu more than Twinkies.

If I’m God and I’m designing the human race why do I make so many ugly people? For every Padma Lakshmi on Earth there are at least 1,000 hairy toothless trolls. You’re God. How do you not notice that you’re making too many trolls and too few Padmas?

If I’m God wouldn’t I want people to have an awesome time worshipping me? Bacchus had the right idea. Unless things have changed in the years since I’ve been to a church/temple, that shit is boring. Does this mean that God is boring, too? When the Aliens finally invade Earth I’m going to be positively mortified that our God is so boring. I bet their Alien God is totally cool.

The worst part of the human machine is our little pea brains. I’ve read that we only use about 5% of our brainpower. What’s the point of that? At least animals get a nice, convenient small brain to lug around. We’ve got these giant creepy brains that get less playing time than Stephon Marbury (take THAT Starbury!) Why am I lugging around this giant melon if I’m not even using it?

If I was designing the human brain I’d definitely give us a better ability to store data. My whole life I’ve always wanted to know things like:

How many calories have I eaten today?
How much money have I spent on Angel Dust since Middle School?
Why did I steal that hobo’s corduroy pants?
Why am I so awesome at Trivial Pursuit (original genus edition only)?

Theologically-minded individuals are always pondering why God would allow evil. I’m just wondering why we’re supposed to worship a slacker.

Wait a minute…that’s it! God’s a slacker! Just like me!! I guess we are made in his/her/its image after all.

Please disregard the preceding paragraphs.
###

Savasava, Bloody Savasana

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 07:43:08 PST

Even after all of these years I’m still shocked – shocked! – when someone says that they don’t like savasana. How could someone not like a yoga posture where you don’t have to do anything? That would be akin to not liking a Chocodile that magically doesn’t make you fat. Most yoga postures are so very hard with all of the stretching and the balancing. Savasana merely requires that one let go and do nothing. For a lazy slob like me savasana (and magic chocodiles) is pure bliss.

Savasana has a weird relationship to the Bikram practice. On one hand savasana (with eyes open) is an official pose that occurs in the middle of the sequence and it’s repeated in between each side of every floor posture. On the other hand I’ve noticed that many (perhaps most) Bikramites don’t take a long savasana after class ends. They tend to get up after just a few seconds. I like to hang for a good ten minutes or so.

Don’t they know that savasana is when the yoga magic happens?

Bikram actually has a pretty good scientific reason for including a heavy dose of savasana in the sequence. I say “pretty good” because I’m a science idiot so maybe a real scientist wouldn’t be as impressed as I am with his rationale. Anyway, Bikram’s theory is that when we perform a posture we’re restricting blood from flowing into certain parts of our bodies and when we release the pose and drop into savasana we’re allowing fresh blood to flood into those areas to oxygenate and heal our bodies. Makes sense to me.

I guess people must feel like they do so many savasanas in class that they don’t need another one at the end. I can certainly appreciate that after a 90 minute class (that frequently runs long) people just want to get the hell out of the hot room and go home. My studio also tends to be very chatty before and after class, so it’s not completely conducive for a meditative savasana. I never really run the risk of dozing off in savasana like I used to after mysore classes.

Surprisingly, I’m not bothered at all by the studio's chattiness factor. I’ve heard that Bikram encourages people to chat before class (probably not after) because it helps to build a sense of community. And it’s true. We do have a strong community. Because our teacher calls us all by name in class (when yelling corrections or complimenting poses - usually yelling) we know each others’ names. Unlike a mysore room where you see the same silent faces each and every morning, at a Bikram studio it’s a rotating cast of characters depending on whether you hit a morning, evening or weekend class.

One of the most controversial observations that I have after switching from Ashtanga to Bikram is how many similarities there are between the two styles. I’ll write about those some other time. But for now, I just wish that some of the Bikramites would take a page from the book of Ashtanga and learn how to rock a nice long savasana!

It's magick I tell you!

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Enough Already!

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 08:41:10 PST

It would not be unreasonable to assume that when I declare “enough already” that I’m referring to the snow. But…I’m not.

Yes, it’s true that I hate the snow. And shoveling another foot of the stuff yesterday was not fun. And I’m too cheap and it’s way too late in the season to rectify the whole snowblower disaster. But I’m a realist and I know going into March that the whole Lion-Lamb thing is bullshit. March always sucks and April is really the so-so month. Spring actually begins in May around here. In other words, I still expect it to be cold and snowy in March, so I'm not that broken up about the snow.

It would also not be unreasonable to assume that when I declare “enough already” that I’m referring to the economic situation. But, again…I’m not.

This economic situation is horrible and scary. I’m saddened by seeing friends get laid off and knowing that most conversations these days are about clients and jobs lost. The natural reaction for most people is to stop spending money and to go into bunker mode. But the problem is that our economy is totally dependent on consumer spending and if we all stop spending then things will only get worse. So we’re just trying to spend smarter these days…but we’re still going out to eat and we’re still giving money to charity. Whenever possible, we're trying to direct our discretionary spending to local and/or independent businesses.

Nope, when I say “enough already” I’m specifically referring to your Christmas decorations.

PLEASE TAKE THEM DOWN ALREADY!

Look, you don’t need to take advice from a Jewish kid, but Christmas is a holiday, not a season. In my (mixed religion) household we put up decorations no earlier than December 1 and we take them down no later than January 1. That’s what keeps it special.

Do you need more evidence?

1) When the big truck comes to pick up your Christmas tree as part of regular trash pick – that’s a sign that it’s time to take your tree down.

2) When your neighbor puts up Cupid cut-outs for Valentine’s Day – that’s a reminder that it’s time to take down the Christmas decorations.

3) When your neighbor puts up Bunny cut-outs for Easter –then it’s definitely time to take down the Christmas decorations.

4) When you get a “thank you” card from National Grid for setting a new electricity-usage record – it’s probably time to take down the Christmas lights.

5) When Jehovah’s Witnesses start avoiding your house because you’re obviously “on the same team” – you might want to consider taking the Christmas decorations down.

6) When “Spring” Training starts – it’s clearly time to take the Christmas decorations down – because it’s almost Spring – get it!

I know that Christmas is a wonderful time for all of us to pretend to like each other and to eat cookies before noon on a daily basis but like all good things it can’t go on forever. So, please, for Jeebus’s sake, take down your decorations already.

Thank you.

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Thank You

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 07:19:29 PST

Although I quit the life of a high-flying Ashtangi many moons ago (and now I don’t even bother to keep track of the moons!) I am forever indebted to my 3 years of dedicated Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga practice and all of the teachers that helped me along the way.

My hatha practice has followed an arc from Bikram to Vinyasa to Ashtanga to Vinyasa and back to Bikram. As I explained to one of my teachers the other day I originally left the Bikram camp because I wanted to go deeper into yoga practice. Ashtanga gave me that depth. In fact, it was so successful in giving me depth to my practice that I was ironically able to leave Ashtanga and return to Bikram for my physical practice. The seed planted in mysore rooms and dark living rooms still grows and thrives in me to this day. For that I am ever grateful.

The Practice

Yoga practice truly requires no accessories. A body, a mind, the breath, some techniques with which we explore the self-imposed walls between them.

I understand Yoga Sutra 2.1 to instruct us that “Kriya yoga practice consists of commitment, self-study and devotion to God.”

Commitment. Practice and dispassion. Working hard with faith consistently. Knowing that the effect is worthwhile without knowing exactly why. Not being distracted by the impermanent fluctuations of the mind.

Self-Study. Observing the coloring of our mind. Understanding the habits and deep tendencies that stimulate unconscious reactions and behaviors. Learning from those who walked this path before us.

Devotion to God. Surrender of the self. Acceptance of our own personal limitations. Knowing deep down inside that there is a soul and there is more to life than we can ever presume to understand.

And when I think of the practitioners of Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga that I have known, I think of commitment, self-study and devotion.

The Mind

There are three parts to our mind, according to the magnificent philosophy of enumeration, Samkhya.

The lowest part is a machine that reacts and acts according to sensory input and habits.

The middle part is a shield, both protecting and limiting us. The ego helps us to survive in the material world.

The highest part is the voice of reason, wisdom and knowledge.

Which part do you listen to most? The voice that tells that more is better, the voice that tells you that you were right all along, or the quietest voice that speaks the truth that one wishes not to hear?

The Gift

“Don’t be an ASSana practitioner,” a teacher once told me, although he himself was quite accomplished at the physical postures. An Ashtangi, he selflessly devoted his mornings to helping others in the mysore room. And yet he knew that the physical postures were practically meaningless. He knew that the important lessons of Yoga were contained in the Yoga Sutras. He taught us about commitment, self-study and devotion. He stressed practice and dispassion. He knew that the three parts of the mind, like the three strands of the gunas, were constantly in flux, and that settling the mind was the whole point of Yoga practice.

That is what Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga gave me and still gives me to this day - an understanding that the practice of Yoga is the practice of the Yoga Sutras. Without the Yoga Sutras there is no Yoga, just postures.

It is fun to criticize things (hell, I make a living of it on this blog). It is easy to find fault with other people. It is interesting to analyze cultures and groups. Physical postures are enjoyable to practice and deconstruct.

But Yoga practice can be much more than that. I didn’t know that at first – 5 years ago – but I learned that from my 3 years of devoted Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga practice. It was a gift that I was given. And for that I thank all of my Ashtanga teachers and their teachers, all the way up to Jois, Krishnamacrya, Brahmacarya, Nathamuni and Patanjali.

Plain ol’ Patanjali 1

Plain ol’ Patanjali 2

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We have found an enlightened being!

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 14:22:03 PST

Remember 10 days ago when I said in my provocative essay, "I am not a yogi" that:

I do not believe that I have ever met a truly self-realized individual over the course of my practice. I’ve met a lot of nice people. I’ve met a lot of cool people. I’ve met a lot of people that are really good at asana. But I don’t think that I’ve met any real Yogis.

Well today I received a very cool comment on that post that I wanted to make sure you read:

Having roamed the earth in search of a master and at last found a fully enlightened being, i haven't regretted a day of it.
a true enlightened being is rare and precious, and can in a very short time change the entire world, for you and for everyone else too.
those who say that nobody is enlightened, that "the answer is within", and that techniques are sufficient are merely imposing their own views on reality.
an enlightened master will correct these in short order. but you need to locate one first, and surrender every concept of spirituality you have at the door.

It was an anonymous comment so I can't give you any more details but I think it's pretty cool and maybe even a little inspiring.

(Why a true sadhaka would be visiting this stupid blog is another mystery that I guess will have to remain unsolved!)

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I am (not) trying to break your heart

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 07:09:31 PST

WARNING: You may find the following essay to be offensive. I’m warning you now. If you’re easily offended or have delicate sensibilities, please don’t read the essay. If you still read it and get offended, please don’t send me an e-mail and call me a jerk because: a) I already know that; and b) I warned you!

My goal in life is to never offend people. I know that might seem hard to believe based on the number of people that I’ve offended over the years on this blog (i.e. yogis, foodies, Bulgarians, Masons, Phish fans, etc.) but I really don’t try to offend people…it just happens accidentally.

As you know, I pride myself on being an amateur junior assistant linguist of sorts and I’m struggling with a few words. I’m actively seeking replacements for words which I know are offensive but seem to have no non-offensive synonyms. The three words are “gay,” “pussy” and “retarded”.

My love for gay men is legendary. I’ve always been very pro-gay and for some unknown reason gay men seem to love me. Now, some straight men are scared off by getting hit on by gay men, but I like it. Look, it’s not like I’m getting hit on by women, so I’ll gladly take the attention from men. For some weird reason I’m like the gay Brad Pitt. I don’t know why. Maybe I give off a strong pro-gay vibe. Maybe I’m like a big, gay red teddy bear. But for whatever reason I do very well with gay men. The only thing that stops me from reciprocating is that I’m really not a fan of the cock. And I figure that if you’re going to be a gay man you should probably love the cock.

That said, using the word “gay” as a descriptor for something or someone that is lame, uncool or effeminate has been popular for as long as I can remember. I will admit to having used it myself (in the distant past - youthful indescretion). And yet I now realize that it’s hurtful to my gay friends because it’s derogatory. But none of the alternatives work quite so well. Words like “lame” and “weak” just don’t cut it. So what’s a pro-gay straight man to do?

Similarly, I’ve come to realize that the word “pussy” is an insult to women. The word is typically used to describe a weak man. In my Top Chef essay I had originally described Hosea as a pussy but I edited it out because I didn’t want to be offensive. I come from a family of strong women. My grandmother went to college. I grew up knowing full well that women were every bit the equal of men...just sexier.

Now, some people opt for the word “wussy” which seems to be a more acceptable version of pussy, being a conflation of wimp and pussy. But I feel like that’s a cop-out. You say wussy when you want to say pussy but you’re scared to. And unlike my alter-ego Larry David I never utter the “C” word. Nothing good can come from uttering the “C” word.

So I need a good, non-offensive to women word to replace "pussy."

Finally, in Boston we struggle with the use of “retarded” as a synonym for stupid. Everything around here is “retah-ded” but no one really means to make fun of mentally-disabled people. It’s less popular now than it was back in high school but you still hear it more than you think you would. I’m not a huge user of “retarded” myself but I figured that you only get one shot to write an offensive essay like this so I might as well throw it out there.

So, to summarize:

1) I am not trying to offend you
2) I probably do anyway
3) Sorry about that
3) I’m looking for words to replace “gay,” “pussy” and “retarded”
4) Or any other thoughts you have on the subject

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The wind cries Cody

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 13:01:44 PST

One of the greatest poses in Sri Bikram’s sequence is pavanmuktasana, or the horrifically-named “wind-removing pose.” As the English name implies, wind-removing pose does an admirable job removing unwanted wind from your digestive tract. The official dialogue says that the first part (right leg up) works the ascending colon, the second part (left leg up) works the descending colon and the third part (both legs up) works everything. Trust me when I say that the pose - done correctly - can definitely remove spare wind. I’ve actually prescribed it in the past to people that have been suffering from bad tummy syndrome (sorry for the technical medical language.)

You’ve probably sussed out by now the apparent conflict between performing a pose in class that removes wind and the yoga student’s traditional goal of not removing wind during class. It is, as they say, a dilly of a pickle.

The normal tension described above was exacerbated today by my unexpectedly tender tummy this morning. Yes, I’ve been battling a low-level sickness all week, and yes, most illnesses tend to impact me gastro-intestinally, but I was not expecting to struggle quite as mightily as I did this morning. (I secretly suspect garlic poisoning.)

The beginning of class was fine. But something hit me during standing separate leg head to knee pose (Dandayamana - Bibhaktapada - Janushirasana). It’s a compression pose that is never fun to perform but this morning I had the distinct feeling that my stomach was literally going to explode. It was not fun.

If I struggle in class with breathing or the heat I feel it in my lungs and I know that it’s mental and I power through it. Today I felt it in my gut and it was not mental. For the first time that I can remember I opted to sit out a pose. I figured that missing tree pose (tadasana) wouldn’t be that big a deal and it would give me a nice long break before the floor postures commenced.

Of course, that’s when I realized that the floor postures (after savasana) would be starting with the dangerous wind-removing pose. And I knew at that very moment that there was quite a lot of wind to be removed.

***

Friends, you may think that you’ve done mula bandha before. But let me assure you that you’ve never done mula bandha like I did mula bandha this morning. When they write the sequel to “The Master Key” I can guarantee you that they will be using my performance in class today as a case study.

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I’m glad there was no mail delivery yesterday

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 16:46:16 PST

I’m glad there was no mail delivery yesterday.

It’ll give my friends at Capital One some time to regroup before commencing their next marketing assault.

I’m pretty sure that Capital One has a bounty out on our household. We receive – no exaggeration – at least 3 offers from them every week. That’s 3 offers each. On average, half of the days that we receive mail include some kind of offer from Capital One.

My guess is that the first employee at Capital One that convinces us to open an account wins a big bonus, hence their endless entreaties. I can picture them sitting around a big conference table discussing their strategy to win over the Pomeray account. To date their tactics seem to be limited to endless direct mailers.

We all know that the credit markets have frozen up tight, but apparently not so tight to prevent Capital One from trying to get me to apply for a credit card. I guess they still have some money to lend which is probably welcome news to Secretary Geithner.

Years ago it was the Discover card that was hot on our tail. They used to try every trick in the book – fake cards, balance transfer checks, pseudo-official looking mailers – but nothing worked. I guess they didn’t realize that a Discover card has no cache (sic)*. I like to consider cache when I’m choosing a credit card partner. That’s why I carry an official Boston Red Sox card from MBNA (a subsidiary of Bank of America). Plus, I got a free tee shirt when I applied. And there’s a picture of Fenway Park on my card. Pretty sweet, huh?

For some reasons I’ve always preferred Master Card over Visa. Visa sounds like boring paperwork that you need in order to get into a foreign country. Master Card makes me feel powerful, like I’m some sort of Master of the Universe, like He-Man.

Discover card makes me feel like a Hyundai and/or Kia owner. No cache.

I’ve always preferred American Express but I don’t like that so many establishments won’t accept it. I’ll never forget the day that we got upgraded to the Amex gold card. It was then that I knew that I had “made it.” They’ve subsequently offered us the Platinum card but we can’t justify spending an extra $400 a year just to have the fancier card to whip out. It’s tempting, though. I’d sure like to whip out an impressive member(ship rewards card).

One day one of us will give in, Capital One. One day.

(*Update: suziecolumbus rightfully points out that the word that I was intending to use was "cachet." I think it's funnier to leave the embarrassing error instead of editing it away and pretending that it never happened. Thanks Suzie!)

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I am not a Yogi

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 08:46:17 PST

I am not a Yogi.

I am just a guy who likes to do yoga.

And while the distinction may seem academic, it is not.

Yogis (or sadhakas) are on a true spiritual quest. They have a guru. They have been formally initiated into a tradition.

I do not believe that I have ever met a truly self-realized individual over the course of my practice. I’ve met a lot of nice people. I’ve met a lot of cool people. I’ve met a lot of people that are really good at asana. But I don’t think that I’ve met any real Yogis.

I like to think that I am informed and influenced by the yamas and niyamas - but I know that I frequently fall short of living by those lofty standards.

I started practicing yoga out of a desire for wellness – physical and mental wellness.

Almost 5 years later I am in much better shape physically than when I first started – but I’m still a chubby bastard.

Almost 5 years later I have much greater control of my mind than when I first started. There is less mental chatter to contend with and I am less beholden to the senses – but the monkey mind is still strong and the habitual conditioning is still present.

The Yoga Sutras make it clear that you get out of yoga practice exactly what you put into yoga practice. I've never really desired kaivalya or the complete disintegration of the self (small self) because I have a wife and small children and I’ve always suspected that someone in a permanent state of samadhi might make for a shitty husband and father.

So the bad news is that I’m not really a Yogi nor am I realistically on the path to becoming one.

But the good news is that I’m still as into the practice – the physical and mental practice – as I was 5 years ago. And I still enjoy the post-practice feeling as much as ever.

So there you have it. A little satya in honor of Geo. Washington.

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Get a grip

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 09:42:27 PST

One of the unheralded things about Bikram/hot yoga practice is the use of specific hand grips. Now, I’m not talking about mudras although perhaps they originated as such.

It’s important to note that contrary to popular belief Bikram yoga is not a new American style of yoga. Sure, the packaging and the selling of Bikram is definitely modern Western, but the practice itself comes from a much more traditional lineage. The 26 asanas in the sequence (well, probably not the sit-up) are pulled from the 84 classic asanas. Bikram’s guru was Bishnu Ghosh, brother of Paramhansa Yogananda (of Autobiography of aYogi fame). Ghosh studied at the Ranchi School for Boys (founded by Yogananda) and established Ghosh’s College of Physical Education in Calcutta, where Bikram studied.

The most important grip to master is a seemingly simple one – all ten fingers interlaced. The grip itself is easy enough but it gets much harder when your hands are slippery and sweaty and your foot is trying to kick your hands apart.

Some people like to use a hand towel to make Dandayamana – JanuShirasana (standing head to knee pose) easier, but the only way to really make progress in the pose is to master the grip. It took me a long time to be able to hold the extended leg out while keeping the grip super tight. By super tight I mean that there’s no gap between the webbing of the fingers.

The other thing that many people don’t realize about the Bikram sequence is how every standing pose has a counterpart in the floor postures (standing postures are considered warm-ups and seated postures are used for depth). So the best way to master the hand grip for standing head to knee pose is to really work on it during the first two parts of Janushirasana with Paschimottanasana (head to knee pose with stretching pose). Obviously it’s much easier to keep your grip tight when you’re not trying to balance on one leg!

The six main grips are:

1) all 10 fingers interlaced
2) all fingers except for index fingers interlaced
3) five fingers together with flat palms
4) prayer position
5) all fingers together grabbing heels
6) all fingers flat with thumbs crossed

There are so many micro-adjustments to worry about during practice that it’s easy to overlook the importance of the proper hand grip. But take it from me, improving your grips will have a huge impact on your postures and your practice.

(Today's snark-free post was brought to you with much love from everyone at Visions of Cody. Happy Valentine’s Day!)

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Disagreeable You

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 11:13:19 PST

Do you know what I find disagreeable?

People who “don’t disagree” with me.

Seriously, get off the fence and have an opinion. Either you agree with me or you disagree with me. Those are your two options. Pick one.

Okay. Since I’m feeling generous today, I’ll grant you a third choice. If you insist, I’ll also let you “not care.” That’s fine. I’m often indifferent to many things in the world.

So you can agree, disagree or not care. But don’t ‘don’t disagree.”

Do you know why I hate ‘don’t disagree’? Because it’s a lame, weak opinion. I don’t need you to agree with me (although I will keep yammering at you until you submit to my awesomeness) and I will reluctantly accept if you disagree with me (even though you’ll probably be wrong) but at least you’re taking a stand.

Always take a stand!

I prefer highly-opinionated people to un-opinionated people. You may find this hard to believe, but over the years I’ve occasionally been accused of having strong opinions. On everything. Well of course I do. I’ve got to pick up the slack for all of those wishy-washy people that refuse to have an opinion.

I like having opinions. Sometimes they’re even based in fact. (But that’s not a requirement.) Hell, I’ll even change my opinion if circumstances dictate.

So, what do you think? Do you agree that ‘don’t disagree’ is disagreeable?

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C.C.I.R.T.

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 08:33:09 PST

I’ve been hard at work in the lab lately doing some landmark research on cross-cultural intellectual relativity theory (C.C.I.R.T.) and wanted to share some of my initial findings just in case any readers had valuable insights to share before I submitted my final report to the appropriate scientific journals.

I believe that I have proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that individuals in possession of a British accent receive an intellectual credibility enhancement (I.C.E.) benefit of approximately 63% upon arrival in the United States. This benefit differs based upon the sub-variant of the accent. For example, a Cockney accent only yields a modest 10% benefit while an East Yorkshire-on-Little-Paddington accent receives an incredible 134% gain (on average).

This (frankly undeserved) intellectual perceptual boost helps to explain* the massive emigration of British citizens to the U.S. over the last three decades. Many Brits are now well aware of the fact that Brits of average intelligence have a much greater chance of financial success in America simply because the average American thinks that Brits (even dumb ones) are wicked smart because of their fancy way of talking.

(*Please note that our research also showed that many Brits prefer life in America for many other reasons. Some of the listed examples include: the American habits of wrapping food in hygienic containers, chilled beverages, cable television and sporting events that do not drag on for months on end without resolution.)

Sadly, there appears to be no reciprocal factor. Residents of Great Britian (England in particular) are wholly unimpressed by American accents and actually have a higher opinion of dim-witted Welshmen than of Americans, especially Southern-accented Americans. This is most likely due to the perceived stupidity of former American president George W. Bush.

Other notable findings of the study include the fact that most Americans view Australian accents favorably; but as opposed to the intellectual credibility enhancement associated with the British accent, the majority of Americans just thought that Australians sounded like “they’d be fun to party with.”

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Captain's Log: January 2009

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 11:22:25 PST

January was a solid month for yoga practice. I attended 8 Bikram classes, including one in Naperville, Illinois. A few observations:

1) It's great to be consistently hitting two classes a week instead of my old once-a-week routine.

2) My worst posture is dandayamana-dhanurasana (standing bow pulling pose). I'm actually not bad at performing the pose (can get foot above top of head with hips in line on both sides) but it's the only one that I have trouble holding for the entire time all four sides.

3) My best posture is probably trikanasana (triangle pose) which is odd because most people struggle with and hate this pose.

4) My most improved posture is most likely dandayamana-janushirasana (standing head to knee pose). I'm consistently getting to phase 2 (elbows below leg with both legs locked) and holding the pose for the entire time all four sides.

5) During the week I'll usually hit either a Tuesday or Thursday night class at 6:30. The best thing about taking this class is that I sleep in on the morning of class and take the next day off. Double sleep in rocks. That's also why I'm loving the new 10:30 class on Saturday. Mmmm, sleep.

6) I seem to have really perfected the 30 minute one-set practice on weekday mornings (from 6:00 to 6:30). I'm only making one small change to the sequence by replacing supta-vajrasa (fixed firm) with some cat-dog tilts. In classes I'm warmed up enough to sit in vajrasa (I won't attempt lying back until my ass is on the ground between my feet) but at home the room is far too cold to try it.

7) I've streamlined my water intake in class to 3 sips during the sequence: after garuasana, after tadasana and after dhanurasana. I don't bother with the "legal" pre-trikanasana one.

8) Since returning to Bikram practice in mid-October I've now attended 24 classes at 4 different studios in 2 states. Maybe I'll be like that weird guy that tries to go to every Starbucks in the USA and try to take a Bikram class in every state (so far I've hit MA, CT, IL & NV). Then again, Alaska is going to be a hard one. Maybe I'll just shoot for the original 13 colonies first.

Hooray for Yoga!

This is starting to get weird

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:48:03 PDT

Okay, this is starting to get a little weird.

Someone or something is apparently intent on burning down all of my back pages.

It started a few weeks ago when there was a terrible fire on Peterborough Street in the West Fens. The fire destroyed the greatest strip of restaurants known to mankind. Well, okay, they weren’t exactly Michelin-rated restaurants, but when you lived on Peterborough Street (as we did) they might as well have been. Sorrento’s was one of the best pizza places in the city. El Pelon was a great baja-style taqueria and Thornton’s had an awesome weekend breakfast and good takeout bar food. Back then there was also a drycleaners, a caterer and a Thai place that I never ate at. (Let’s be honest - Thai food is awful, practically inedible. Whoever thought that I wanted to eat lemongrass and coconut milk in the first place and why did they have to put it in every single dish?)

Losing that part of the Fenway, even 6+ years after we left was really sad. It was our first grown-up apartment. We had our first baby while living there. I vividly remember his first birthday party, the last blissful family get-together before my sweet Aunt got sick and died far too young.

Yesterday there was another fire, this time on the poor side of Beacon Hill (aka the West End) on Anderson Street near the Hen - right across the street from our first apartment in the city. I still remember eating Buzzy’s Roast Beef (RIP Buzzy’s!) on the floor before we had any furniture, so excited to be moving into a 3rd floor walk-up in the big city. I remember sawing the legs off my couch in the street with my brother-in-law when we couldn’t fit it up the narrow stairwell. I remember spending the entire summer in our bedroom (baum-chicka-baum-baum!) because it was the only room with a window A/C unit. I even miss trolling for a parking spot and dejectedly paying for an overnight space in the MGH lot, where all of us residents knew how to sneak in the back gate so we didn’t have to walk all the way around the block.

I’ve always enjoyed whatever phase of life that I’m currently in, while still maintaining the ability to reminisce about days gone by. I figure that for every thing you lose, you pick up something else just as wonderful. I wouldn’t want to live on Anderson or Peterborough anymore. But it’s weird to think that those things - my former things - are gone forever.

I suspect that's why a lot of people don't like gentrification in their neighborhoods. ‘Progress’ is always nice when it’s someone else’s memories that are being replaced with something new and shiny. But when it's your memories that are being destroyed - that's another story. And I'll be the first to admit that I’m the type of guy that occasionally overpaid for gas in the Fenway just so I could do a loop around the old neighborhood.

(Obviously these fires are a far greater tragedy for those directly affected by them then they are for me. Best wishes to all the residents and business owners.)

Living the Dharma

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:47:09 PDT

As a child, I never realized how perfect the Smurf community was. But re-watching their adventures I can finally appreciate what an amazing society those little blue scamps built. They were truly living the dharma.

Think about it. Every single Smurf understands and embraces his righteous duty. Their life’s work is dedicated to staying on the virtuous path.

In one episode some of the Smurfs were giving Lazy some shit about him not helping with the building of a dam (there’s apparently a lot of dam-building required in Smurf Village). My son turned to me and said, “but that’s his nature. He’s lazy.”

Smart kid. Noble Smurfs.

In another episode, Grouchy doesn’t feel well and Papa suggests that he act a little happier. Well, Grouchy just gets sicker and Papa finally realizes that Grouchy has to hate everything…that’s his true nature. Naturally, re-embracing his hateful ways makes him better…and happier.

As a spiritually-advanced society the Smurfs understand that they are all one. They need each other to survive. They are interdependent beings, merely separate manifestations of the same ultimate reality.

The cycle of life and death (samsara) is well represented by the evil wizard Gargamel and his aptly named cat Azrael. When Smurfs stray from the path they suffer at the hands of the archangel of death. But of course these noble creatures don’t bear the burden of negative karma, so they are always rescued and returned to the source.

The Smurfs would be the perfect community is not for one unfortunate aspect: they’re sexists. There are well over 100 known Smurfs in existence and there are only 3 women. Sadly, these women possess no duty beyond just being women - objects of desire for the menfolk. Even worse, Smurfette was created by Gargamel as part of one of his evil schemes and she had to be “fixed” by Papa Smurf before she could join the community. Papa changed her hair from black to gold, which is probably a racist dig, but there’s no further evidence to support charges of racism.

Old Man in the Mustang

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 18:56:58 PST

Old man in the Mustang
What are you doing
Waiting at the train station
Each and every morning

Why do you sit there
You’re not dropping off
You’re not picking up
But you’re always there

Why do you wait
On the little side street
Like a creepy stalker
Who are you stalking

Is it your ex-wife
Or a former friend
Are you trainspotting
Or planning a hit

One thing I know
Is that you’re quite old
‘cause you have a navy cap
On the back window sill

I would love to ask you
Why you’re always here
But I’m afraid of you
Old man in the Mustang

(Even if it’s a new Mustang
Made out of cheap plastic
Instead of a bad-ass Mustang
From Nineteen Sixty Eight)

Huzzah!

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 14:41:36 PST

I have finally discovered something beneficial about obsessive yoga practice!

(And I’m not talking about the powerful siddhis of ‘boring your loved ones’ or ‘steadily pissing through your disposable income’.)

Accomplished yogis, unlike the rest of humanity, have cultivated the powerful skill of standing on one leg for extended periods of time. This skill can be useful for many purposes, such as:

1) Changing from “client clothes” back into “slob clothes” in an Illinois highway oasis bathroom without allowing any clothes or bodyparts to touch the disgusting floor; or

2) Changing from bathing suit to street clothes at the YMCA without allowing bare foot skin to touch the cold, potentially disease-ridden tile floor.

Hooray for Yoga!

Better Off Without a Wife

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 17:10:46 PST

Many years ago, on these very virtual pages, I introduced a concept that took the interworld by storm. My idea was profound yet simple. I called it “work wife” and it was a term to describe your best-friend/lunch mate at the office. For many years I rode on the coattails of this glorious invention. It was the crowning achievement of my young virtual life and I always assumed that it would be my epitaph: Cody Pomeray, middling blogger, invented “work wife.”

But alas, my laizze-faire vetting process ultimately came back to bite me in my prodigious rear. By employing the popular tool known as ‘the google’ I discovered that I had not actually invented the term “work wife” (although I certainly did help to popularize its usage,) but some real writer at a real magazine might have. Daunted and broken, I returned to my virtual drawing board in a vain attempt to come up with another great idea to claim as my own.

Still waiting for said glorious idea to materialize, I thought that in the meantime I would revisit the concept of “work wife” as I’m no longer sure that it even makes sense in today’s topsy-turvy world.

For you see, monogamy may work in the bedroom but I fear that it’s a loser in the boardroom. And I think that it’s time for us to move beyond our dated notions of male-male/male-female/female-female workplace couplings and consider open workplace marriages. I think it’s time for us to introduce a little polygamy into the office park.

Experience now tells me that workplace lunch groups should actually be comprised of threesomes (aka friendship circles) for the following reasons:

1. If your work wife is traveling or out sick you’ll still have someone to lunch with, avoiding the dreaded “I’ll just heat up a can of soup and surf the web at my desk” lunch;

2. If you’re tiffing with the work wife, the third person can act as a mediator – both objectively weighing the evidence and actively attempting to smooth over hurt feelings;

3. Work ménage-a-trois allow for more stimulating conversation and less repetition of stories;

4. Having a tie-breaker vote is valuable for picking lunch venues, especially if the spouses have different salad/sandwich shop preferences; and

5. Having a third party is beneficial for securing short-term lunch loans when funds are running short and trips to the cash machine are not desired.

Yes, the more that I think of it, the happier I am that I never invented that stupid concept of work wife. Who needs to be tied down? Work man was born to be free and unattached (and yet still likes to have dependable lunchtime companions.)

Now the hard part for those of you in established long-term work relationships will be to introduce the back-up work wife without making your first work wife jealous. The worst thing would be for you to go through an ugly work separation/divorce before you lock-down your second wife. Then you’re back to reading sci-fi books alone in the food court.

Sympathy is your best play here. Once you identify the man or woman that you’d like to a fiancée, engineer a situation where you “impulsively” ask them to join you and the wife for a casual (no commitment) lunch. Or better yet, try to get your work wife to think that it was his/her idea. At lunch, make sure that you steer the conversation back to topics that your work wife will enjoy, thereby ensuring a positive experience. Repeat this process a few times until it starts becoming a regular thing. Before you know it, you’ve just doubled your lunchtime pleasure!

One final note of caution: be careful when you’re picking your second work wife. If he or she isn’t into swinging, then you’re taking a big, awkward risk. The last thing you need is to be branded as some kind of freaky office lunch slut.

"Better Off Without a Wife"/Tom Waits/Nighthawks at the Diner

Till the Morning Comes

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 11:35:42 PST

Believe it or not, it’s been about 108 days since I returned to the dark side, so it seemed like an auspicious time to provide you with a little yogasana practice update.

My practice these last few months has been remarkably consistent. I’ve been going to 2 Bikram classes per week and I’ve been home practicing days between. For home practice I do one set of each posture in the Bikram sequence, held for about 10 breaths per pose. It takes approximately 40 minutes each morning.

I never realized how much I must have despised sun salutations but I’m guessing that a lot of my historical resistance to getting out of bed on a timely basis was my reluctance to start practice with those stupid salutations. As the first two Bikram postures are fun (standing deep breathing and half-moon with hands to feet) it’s a lot easier to get going without procrastinating. By the time I hit the dreaded awkward pose I’m already committed to practicing.

Just for fun I tried doing some sun salutations the other day and they were absolutely brutal, which just goes to show that you build aptitude in the poses that you practice regularly and completely lose the ability to perform poses that you don’t practice. Stunning insight there, huh?

I’m also practicing in my bedroom now instead of the living room. This has made life easier for both me and my wife because we no longer have to move the coffee table or roll-up the carpet in the living room. Now I just plug in the space heater and roll out the manduka. Because I’m upstairs and I don’t want to wake the kids I’m not using any music, so that’s another crutch banished.

I do have a copy of Bikram’s (hilarious) practice CD on my ipod and I created a playlist with just the first set of each pose (approximately 50 minutes,) so on days when the kids are awake I can choose to have Bikram lead me for a full or half class. Otherwise, I’m not using any other practice aides or DVDs.

My backbending has greatly improved as a result of the Bikram spine strengthening sequence. Whereas the Ashtanga primary series focuses on forward bends Bikram really focuses on the spine. I hate to say it but my personal experience discredits the whole ‘really work the updogs’ approach to back-bending. Doing cobra, locust, full locust, bow and camel every day feels much better to me than doing a bunch of updogs and then a full wheel. Then again, I’m sure if you’re practicing primary plus the backbending postures in second you’d be fine. Unfortunately for me I was never going to get to second in this lifetime.

Both Ashtanga and Bikram win points for having a set sequence as designed by a real yogacharya. One thing I don’t miss at all is going to generic flow classes and having a teacher make up some ‘creative’ flows for the class. Experimenting on your own body is one thing but experimenting on a class full of mixed-level students with untested sequences is quite another.

I do like that there’s no “next pose” in Bikram. You just focus on the 26 postures with the goal of finding ease and stability in each one. There’s no reward - beyond personal satisfaction - in performing a posture well. As of now I have no desire to take an advanced Bikram class or to go to teacher training. I like being a student and just working on my practice.

The heat hasn’t been too much of an issue for me. Then again, it’s been 10 degrees out for a few weeks now, so getting into the hot room is a relief. We’ll see if I feel the same way when summer rolls around. It is weird to realize that there’s almost a hundred degree difference between the practice room and the outside world!

I’ve been treading water knee-wise. I’m no longer using a rolled-up towel behind the knee for the virasana-based postures (which is good) but my torn right meniscus hasn’t magically healed yet, either. I’m still sitting up for supta vajrasana and I’m doing tree instead of toe stand. I doubt that either of those things will change unless I get the knee fixed surgically.

Observing moon days and chanting the invocation has fallen by the wayside as of late. I guess you’ll have to come to karaoke to hear my off-key warbling.

One thing that I do miss about Ashtanga is the whole Mysore connection. It’s fun to read about people traveling to India and it’s cool that there’s a living guru for the practice. Of course, we have P.T. Bikram and the mecca of Beverly Hills, which is fun, but not quite the same thing.

All in all, I’ve been really happy since returning to the Bikram fold. It’s simplified my life in many ways: I have less postures to worry about, less hassle getting to class, less stress about ‘progress’ and, of course, less furniture moving.

“Till the Morning Comes”/Grateful Dead/American Beauty

Snowbound

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:48:03 PDT

Prologue

More snow means more shoveling.

Sigh.

And by shoveling I mean honest-to-goodness, back-breaking, heart-attack inducing shoveling, not that fake-shoveling known as snow blowing. That’s for dirty rotten cheaters.

Once upon a time, you see, I too, was a cheater. But just once, until it all went horribly, horribly awry.

Be forewarned. My tale of snow blow woe is not only exhilarating; it’s also kind of boring. So grab yourself a big cup of cocoa and buckle in for the ride of your life.

Chapter 1

Our house is located on a majestic tenth of an acre plot. Whenever it snows (daily now, thanks to Al Gore and his stupid environment) I’m tragically obligated to shovel approximately nine tenths of the property since we’re located on the elementary school walking route. Basically, I need to keep a clear path from the street corner to the neighbor’s driveway, plus the front steps, the back porch and steps, the path in the backyard to the garage (yes, I even have to shovel grass!) and the driveway. It’s a lot of shoveling for a small property.

Chapter 2

Because it’s such a small property, and because I’m so cheap, I could never justify spending $500 for a seasonal product like a snow blower. Plus, I’m kind of terrified of machines, especially ones with a well-deserved reputation for viciously chopping off their careless owner's hands. Years ago the guys in the neighborhood offered me an opportunity to buy a share in their community snow blower but I declined. I can’t be spending my precious morning yoga time plowing every driveway in the neighborhood when my turn inevitably rolled around. Nope, I’d rather just stick with solo shoveling and complaining, thank you very much.

Chapter 3

The summer before last we were enjoying an unexpected day-off with a couple of lobster rolls and beers at the beach while the boys were safely ensconced at camp. Now drinking during the day has two consistent effects on me: first, I get sleepy; second, I become an easy mark for grifters (which explains how the girls from MASSPIRG always trick me into giving them money to save the stupid, smelly whales.) Returning home we were approached by a neighbor who was packing up for a move. She offered us a nearly-new snow blower for $100. “Sure thing, lady,” I said, “$100 for a snow blower sounds like a steal! Lemme get my checkbook.” And before I realized it, I had unwittingly joined the snow blower club.

Chapter 4

That first snow was awesome. I busted out my new snow blower and started blowing everything in sight. Now this was easy living! No bending, no shoveling...it was quick and fun! Who knew that snow blowing was so awesome? I was selflessly doing the neighbor’s curb and laughing inside at the poor shoveling chumps down the street. "Get on board, you cheap luddites," I muttered to myself.

With the sound of the first gunshot I dropped to the ground HARD. I immediately suspected a drive-by shooting but there were no cars visible and we don’t get many drive-bys anyway. Upon further investigation it probably wasn’t a gunshot after all. And the only thing that was dead was my new snow blower.

Chapter 5

After a long residency under the porch we decided to see if the snow blower could be repaired before the snow hit this winter. Mr. Google found a snow blower repair man in the next city and we arranged a drop-off on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. The “repair shop” was basically a small engine graveyard with a hand-painted sign that said “Lawn mower and snow blower repair.” The seedy older gentleman (apparently the owner’s Dad) that took my snow blower in exchange for the generic claim ticket said that the tune-up would be about $80 and would take about a week. Hopefully we’d get it back before the first big snow.

Chapter 6

Six weeks later our friends at the shop hadn’t called back and had seemingly stopped answering their answering machine-free phone. I feared that I had been grifted for a second time on that accursed snow blower. Drastic action was required, so I decided to cruise down to the junkyard in person to settle their hash. Feeling like I needed to look a little more imposing I copped a blue-collar outfit: jeans, work boots, a shady looking Red Sox knit cap and a puffy winter jacket (I call her Missy Elliot – she’s not really that tough looking but at least she’s tougher than my Ralph Lauren pea coat!) For back-up I brought my visiting Dad (who can look fairly tough when he isn’t sewing or complaining about his hip.)

Chapter 7

Both father and son were working in the junkyard that day. Sizing them up I was pretty sure that either of them could take either of us, but I might have had an outside shot of taking the Dad if I could just figure out his Achilles heel. I ambled up to the boys and growled, “I’m here to pick-up my blower.” They asked if someone had called. I gave ‘em the dead eye stare and said, “nope.” The old man, clearly rattled, headed for the basement while the son nervously pretended that we weren’t there.

When the old man returned he took me down to the workbench to show me that our snow blower was being actively worked on, that he had just received the magical parts today, and he’d call me before 3 to let us know when it was done.

I said okay and left without mentioning that we were kind of in a rush because my parents need the car to take the kids to a 4:30 showing of “Desperaux” and that he was on very thin ice with me. Very thin ice.

Chapter 8

Shockingly, neither ScumDad nor ScumSon called to let us know that the machine was ready. But “Desperaux” wasn’t going to wait so I decided to pay them another unannounced visit. Me and my crew hopped in the SUV and drove back to the wrong side of the tracks. Upon arrival I was greeted at the car door by 2 giant, murderous pitbulls. Well, well, well, it looks like I had underestimated my foes. Somehow they discovered my second weakness: that I hate dogs and am especially afraid of giant killer dogs. Well played, boys.

(My first weakness, by the way, is that I have absolutely no idea how machines work and I am completely at the mechanic's mercy.)

My Dad proved himself to be a big help by saying, “I’ll stay in the car.” Thanks a lot, Pops. Can I keep the heat running so you’re nice and toasty while your baby is being ripped to shreds right in front of your eyes?

Much to my surprise, our snow blower was put back together and waiting for us. But it wasn’t working. ScumDad explained that something was scored and something else was blown and it wasn’t worth fixing. He suggested that someone might have used the wrong mix of gas and oil. I pretended that I wasn’t the person that probably put in the lethal combination of gas and oil.

ScumDad, displaying the largest set of balls ever, then tried to jack me for a $35 minimum charge. I countered by offering to sell him the broken snow blower. We both declined each other’s offers and I slowly wheeled my broken snow blower away, all the while wondering whether I would be attacked first by the greedy Dad or the killer pitbulls. Luckily, neither came after me.

Chapter 9

The world has finally returned to balance. The broken snow blower has returned to its rightful home under the porch. I am back to begrudgingly shoveling and complaining about the snow. My Dad has returned South to his retirement villa to work on his golf game and ScumDad and ScumSon are probably grifting more yuppies as we speak.

The End.

“Snowbound”/Donald Fagen/Kamakiriad

High Head Blues

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 06:44:39 PST

You might be surprised to learn that I was not a front row kind of student in my youth, unless forced there by teachers that alphabetized the rows. Oh how I loved those rare educators that employed the double-secret reverse alphabet seating plan!

The front row is more than a physical location. It’s a state of mind. It’s an attitude. It’s a commitment to not whisper to your friends or draw snarky little comics featuring caricatures of your math teacher (who bore an uncanny resemblance to Albert Einstein.)

In this topsy-turvy workaday world you’re either a front row person or you’re not. And awesomely cool people like me and George Clooney are quite obviously back row people.

Aren’t we?

***

If you’ve never been to a Bikram yoga class, then you might be surprised to learn that new students are supposed to practice in the back row while the front row is reserved for more experienced students. There’s a simple reason for this: people in the front row basically act as demonstrators for the people behind them.

I usually choose my spot based on availability and temperature. Once you get to know a studio intimately you know where the hot and cold spots are in the room. In my home studio the front right corner is hottest, followed by the front left corner. The back left and back right corners are closest to the doors and are relatively cooler.

Given my druthers I’d typically opt for middle row left of center as I’m neither a beginner nor a front row personality type and I like the temperature to be high but not scorching.

On Sunday morning I brought a friend to his first class. Unlike most people he loved it instantly. (I say ‘unlike most people’ because most people hate their first classes when they’re in the room but love the feeling afterwards.) Because it was his first class we set up in the back row but during class my teacher complimented one of my postures and said half-jokingly (?) that I should be practicing in the front row.

Should I?

***

Walking into the studio on Tuesday night the front row was wide open. Was it a sign from the yoga gods? I took it as such and set-up in the front row center. Naturally, there were three new people in the back row of the room. My big moment had arrived.

Practicing in the front row - knowing that new students would be following my postures - had a profound impact on my practice that night. I felt a great responsibility to be perfect in my alignment. But more than that, I felt a responsibility to demonstrate a complete practice. I made sure that I entered and exited poses slowly and smoothly. I made sure that I maintained (nearly) perfect driste at all times. I didn’t allow myself to fall out of postures early (I sometimes do in standing head to knee and standing bow) and the one time that I fell out during the first set of standing bow I calmly attempted the pose again. I never grunted or huffed and puffed (not that I ever do). I only took a few sips of water and only at appropriate times.

Surprisingly, all of my efforts actually helped my practice to become even more meditative than usual. It was concentration in action. It was an excellent practice in every regard.

I think I’ve avoided the front row in the past for two contradictory reasons: the fear that I’m not ‘good enough’ for the front row versus the fear that it’s egotistical to declare oneself an advanced student by setting up in the front row. But now I see that the front row can be a valuable tool for deepening one’s practice.

Yikes! Have I now become a front row person?

But more importantly, will George Clooney still hang out with me?

Will we?

“High Head Blues”/The Black Crowes/Amorica

VOC Podcast Season 1 Recap

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 05:16:01 PST

The idea for a Visions of Cody podcast came long before I had any concept what the podcast would actually be about. Initially I figured that I’d just read a few essays and play some cool tunes. I quickly realized that essays that were intended to be read on-screen didn’t necessarily translate into compelling audio content. Ultimately my intention was to discuss some aspect of yoga practice, philosophy or culture in a humorous and entertaining manner in 30 minutes or less.

Listening back to the 35 episodes I’m pretty pleased with how they turned out. It’ll be fun to listen to them again in 30 years or so and remember what a loser I was. Then again, in 30 years I’ll probably have no recollection of Visions of Cody and I’ll be all-consumed with trying to convince my children that I don’t really need to wear the Depends.

Luckily, you can relive your favorite episodes (or any that you might have missed along the way) at any time just by clicking on the handy links below:

Episode 1: Welcome to the VOC Podcast (no song)
Episode 2: On Vanity, Part 1: Hair (The Beatles: Within You, Without You)
Episode 3: On Vanity, Part 2: Weight (Phil Lesh & Friends: Carnival Time)
Episode 4: On Manliness (The Honeydrippers: Sea of Love)
Episode 5: Eat, Pray, Love Review (Johnny Cash: Daddy Sang Bass)
Episode 6: On Growing Up (Bruce Springsteen: My Hometown)
Episode 7: On Talking About Yoga: Karma (Black Crowes: Love is Now)
Episode 8: On Gov. Spitzer & Brahmacarya (Dire Straits: Your Latest Trick)
Episode 9: On Yoga Teacher Training (James Brown: Don't Be a Dropout)
Episode 10: On Springtime (Hall & Oates: Change of Season)
Episode 11: On Traveling to Mysore (Grateful Dead: The Stranger)
Episode 12: On Yoga Tourism (Journey: Faithfully)
Episode 13: Chicago Yoga Review (Smashing Pumpkins: The Last Song)
Episode 14: Home vs. Studio Practice (Black Crowes: Poor Elijah/Tribute to Johnson)
Episode 15: Types of Yoga Freaks (Ryan Adams: Dear John)
Episode 16: On Yoga Mats (Stevie Wonder: He's Misstra Know It All)
Episode 17: On the High Cost of Yoga Conferences (Rolling Stones: Slipping Away)
Episode 18: On Yoga Books (Sheryl Crow: The Book)
Episode 19: On Golf Vs.Yoga (Tom Waits: Day After Tomorrow)
Episode 20: Interview with Lara Hedin (no song)
Episode 21: On Summer Heat at the Studio (Pearl Jam: Dirty Frank)
Episode 22: Is Ashtanga a Cult? (George Harrison: Brainwashed)
Episode 23: Obstacles on the Path (Led Zeppelin: Sick Again)
Episode 24: On Moon Days (Rolling Stones: Moonlight Mile)
Episode 25: On Yoga Injuries (Gram Parsons: Love Hurts)
Episode 26: Interview with Kate Churchill (no song)
Episode 27: On Contentment (Black Crowes: You Don’t Miss Your Water)
Episode 28: On Rielle Hunter (Keith Richards: Make No Mistake)
Episode 29: Dharma Mittra Yoga NYC Review (Billy Preston: That's The Way God Planned It)
Episode 30: September is the Yoga-est Month (The Flying Burrito Brothers: Colorado)
Episode 31: Snarky Yoga Smackdown (Oasis: Married with Children)
Episode 32: On the Language of Yoga (Jackson Browne: For a Dancer)
Episode 33: On the Many Practices of Yoga (George Michael: Heal the Pain)
Episode 34: On the Promises of Yoga Studios (Ryan Adams: Rip Off)
Episode 35: Holiday Survival Tips (Black Crowes: Back Door Santa)

Thank you for listening to the first season of the Visions of Cody podcast. It’s been a blast creating these episodes and we sincerely hope that you enjoyed at least some of them. We’ll be back soon with a new season, a new format, new friends and plenty of laughs and music!

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

Jam of the Year, part 2

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:48:22 PDT

There are so many aspects of yoga practice to consider - historical, philosophical, physical - that I find it immensely helpful to write about the practice. Putting yogic concepts into my own words helps me to better understand them and I view these essays as a form of self-training. Unfortunately, I'm also secretly paranoid that I'm doomed to yoga hell for writing about the practice, per 1.12 of the Hatha Yoga Pradipika:

"The science of Hatha should be kept top secret by the yogi desirous of success. It is potent when concealed and impotent when revealed." (Akers, p. 4)

Well, I guess if I'm screwed anyway (impotent? yikes!) I might as well highlight my favorite yoga posts of 2008:

The year started on a serious note with a meditation on reincarnation, but quickly went low-brow with this discussion on men's only yoga, and just got weird trying to figure out the relationship between self and blog-self.

Then things got heavy: I finished part 2 of 'Plain ol' Patanjali' (the Yoga Sutras simplified), dug into the influence of the West on Yoga, played the role of objective observer, and suggested that 'you are not your thoughts' but you might just be your actions.

People seemed to like my cheating tips for Ashtanga, but lots of people didn't like my marketing analysis of the changes to the Ashtanga teacher authorization guidelines. Re-reading that "controversial" essay was interesting. I actually still like it and agree with the analysis. When I was writing the essay it never crossed my mind that people would get so worked up about it or that I'd be getting thousands of hits from India, Japan and all over the Ashtangoverse. Who knew that anyone took this blog seriously?

Finally, attending the Enlighten Up! film premiere in September was a lot of fun, as was writing the review.

All in all it was a great year for yoga. I practiced at home almost every day. I practiced with teachers at least once a week and I visited quite a few different studios around the country. But even with all that practice I still suck at asana. There's always next year.

"Jam of the Year"/Prince/Emancipation

VOC Podcast Episode 35

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 07:37:42 PST

Our last episode of the year is bursting with yogic tips on surviving the holidays and ensuring a Super Happy New Year!

(Thanks for a great 2008!)

Click here to listen to episode 35

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

visionsofcody.net

Chalk Dust Torture

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 09:42:34 PST

As far back as I can recall Harry the Cleaning Man came to our house every Saturday morning. I can vividly remember moving from room to room to avoid the cacophony of sound that emanated from Harry’s giant vacuum cleaner in a vain attempt to follow the adventures of Thundarr the Barbarian or that groovy Captain Caveman. Harry was more than a cleaning man. He was practically a member of the family – except for the fact that I didn’t know his last name or anything else about him, his life or his family. But I loved him just the same, especially for keeping our day-glo orange and yellow kitchen clean and garish.

Naturally, I always viewed having cleaning assistance as the sure sign of grown-upedness. I always knew that one day I too would pay someone to clean my house (which, tragically, does not feature a day-glo kitchen).

That is, until I found out how much it actually costs to have someone clean your house. Marone! A mortal battle ensued between my laziness and my thriftiness. And for many years thriftiness won.

Upon having our second child we could no longer stomach the idea of cleaning the bathrooms in addition to working full time and rearing the children. So we decided to treat ourselves to a monthly cleaning service. We’re neat people by nature so we really just needed someone to parachute in for the occasional tub and toilet scrub. Over the next four years we cycled through more cleaning help than Murphy Brown had executive assistants! (Holy dated reference, Batman!) They either cost too much, sucked at cleaning or just never showed up. We were devastated when our favorite cleaning couple abruptly split town one day. Managing the cleaners was turning into a more stressful job than pretending to clean the toilets (my personal specialty).

Whenever we’d lose an “independent” cleaner we’d ultimately crawl back to the corporate service that we’d fired many, many times before. At this juncture we’ve basically admitted defeat and we continue to employ said crappy corporate service. They charge too much for a once-a-month cleaning. They do a crappy job. They basically come in, fold the toilet paper into a little triangle (which is quite nice) and leave.

My wife has figured out that you basically need to complain every third month in order to get a decent clean. The pattern seems to be: good clean, so-so clean, bad clean, complaint, good clean, etc.

So all is cool in Codyland, right?

Wrong.

I secretly want to fire them again. And it has nothing to do with the quality of the cleaning. I honestly don’t care if the house if perfectly clean – I’m basically paying them so that I don’t have to do the cleaning myself. But my problem is that they always screw up the bed sheets. And like a dripping faucet it’s steadily driving me insane month after month. They always put the top sheet on upside down and backwards. Every month, without fail, when we come home on cleaning day my wife runs to check the bathrooms and I run to check the beds. And every month they put the sheets on wrong.

Why? Is it intentional? Can’t they see that Scooby Doo is facing the wrong way? What’s the point of paying for a cleaning service if I have to remake all three beds?

Look, I come from a hardscrabble background. Growing up we didn’t even have top sheets. I didn’t even know that top sheets existed until I got married. But once you go top, you never go back.

So, in your opinion, do I let it slide or is it “cowabunga” time?

“Chalk Dust Torture”/Phish/A Live One

I Just Go

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:48:22 PDT

You might have noticed that as of late I’ve written fewer posts about yoga and more posts about random subjects. And while I’ve always enjoyed writing the random posts, I’ve historically tried to space them out so that I maintained a 2:1 average of yoga to non-yoga posts.

The reason that I did so was simple – Visions of Cody was launched as a yoga blog and I felt that it was unfair to yoga-obsessed readers to pummel them with too many posts about music or politics or snack cakes.

Even as a yoga-themed blog I never wrote much about the physical practice, primarily because I possess (even after almost 5 years) a very rudimentary physical practice. It seemed useless to talk about postures that everyone else mastered long ago. My interest has always been primarily in the mental sphere of yoga – mind control – and I suspect that’s what will always fascinate me about yoga.

It’s also obvious that I am no longer an Ashtangi in any shape or form. I learned more about yoga in my 3+ years of daily Ashtanga practice than I ever could have imagined. But I also learned a lot about myself in the process. And what I learned is that I love yoga, I need yoga in my life every day and I need the physical practice. But I don’t really see myself as a yogi anymore. I’m just a guy that does yoga. And by placing it in that context – yoga as something I do rather than being an attribute of who I am – I’m more comfortable accepting the fact that I’m just not well-suited physically for the Ashtanga Vinyasa practice and my life is much easier now that I’m not trying to always figure out ways to scam into town for mysore classes, although I certainly miss my teachers and the shala.

I started practicing yoga by walking blindly into a Bikram studio all those years ago. It was the practice that introduced me to yoga and I was instantly hooked. But as I learned more about yoga I thought that I needed a more authentic and a more culturally-respected style to practice. My ego wanted what it perceived to be a more authentic and culturally-respected style. Now, I no longer care what styles of yoga are more authentic or culturally-respected. I am a perpetual beginner and I enjoy the stripped-down experience that Bikram’s sequence provides (I still love the set sequence!) I’ve found myself back in that very same Bikram studio a couple of days a week (home practice the other four, of course) and probably for the foreseeable future. I guess my knees will determine the length of the reunion!

The point of all of this useless blathering is that these changes will become more and more evident at Visions of Cody and (for some unknown reason) I wanted to be upfront about my future blogging intentions. The most apparent change will be that I will no longer constrain myself to exclusively writing about certain subjects. From here on out, anything goes! I certainly plan to keep writing about yoga, but I’ll most likely focus on yoga philosophy and the Bikram practice and postures. The good news (depending on your perspective) is that I’ll probably post more often, as I’ve got a long list of ridiculous topics that I’ve been holding back on.

I can’t thank you all enough for being a part of this experience. Some people write for themselves. Other people write for therapy. I write for you. If it wasn’t for your readership and your feedback I probably wouldn’t bother. When I re-read the old essays – 300 and counting – sometimes I cringe at poorly executed ideas, sometimes I laugh at good material and sometimes I’m mortified by the whole thing. But I’ve greatly enjoyed being a blogger and I sincerely thank you all for making me one.

My dream in life was always to be a humor essayist. Thanks to you, my dream has come true. Sure, my name might not be on a byline in the newspaper (and it might not be my real name, either!) but things don’t always turn out the way you expect them to. Sometimes they turn out better.

“I Just Go”/Boz Scaggs/Dig

I Am...I Said

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 12:13:57 PST

As a child in New Jersey I was only aware of 2 types of people: Jews and Catholics. For most of my life I was under the impression that the world (well, the US at least) was 50% Jewish and 50% Catholic. I had heard of Protestants but my only exposure to them was in the pages of MAD Magazine. For some reason MAD Magazine used to make a lot of jokes about WASPs (that’s not an offensive acronym, is it?) This false perception was reinforced when I was a teenager and we moved to a suburb outside of Boston. Once again I found myself in an environment where Jews were grossly overrepresented.

Hey! I wonder if my parents were consciously picking towns that had a lot of Jews? Go figure.

Anyway, imagine my surprise when I went to college in Upstate New York and found out that not only was the world not bursting with Jews, but lots of people had never even met a Jew and some didn’t even like Jews. It was an eye-opener for sure, but I guess that’s what college is for. It wasn’t that big a deal, though. I can usually pass for Irish when necessary and I only had one boss that vocally complained about “dealing with the Jewish moneylenders down in NYC.”

In the spirit of the holiday season and as a public service to those of you that don’t live in Boston, New York, Ft. Lauderdale or Los Angeles, we proudly present:

Visions of Cody’s Official Guide to Jews

Agnostic (Cultural) Jews

The first mistake people make when considering Jews is in thinking of Judaism as merely a religion. Yes, Judaism is a very old religion - so old in fact that there’s plenty of animal sacrificin’ fun in the texts. But many, many Jews (like Albert Einstein and your old pal Cody!) are not religious in the least bit and yet they still consider themselves to be Jewish. You see, Judaism is a culture as well as a religion. You don’t have to be down with Yahweh to be down from your mother’s relentless nagging! Jewish culture includes things like salty Delicatessen foods, sleepaway camps, teen tours, expectations that you’ll be a Doctor or Lawyer, using Yiddish swears (gay k'ken in yam) and inexplicably rooting for any celebrity Jew, no matter how lame (i.e. Dee Snider).

By the way, a Jew is generally defined as anyone who has at least one Jewish grandparent or is a convert to Judaism (can’t lose Sammy from the list!) Sorry, but modern Kabbalah adherents don’t count.

Religious Jews

Like salsa, religious Jews come in 3 basic flavors: mild, medium and hot.

Reform (mild) Jews are often looked down upon by the other religious Jews because they basically pick and choose whatever religious laws they wish to follow. As long as you publicly declare allegiance to the God of Moses (and privately consider yourself one of the ‘chosen people’) then you’re in. Reform services are mostly in English, guitars are often featured, and women are allowed to lead. These are the liberal religious Jews.

(I’m just joking about that ‘chosen people’ bit, by the way. I’m sure Jews haven’t done themselves any favors with that arrogant conceit – plus, it was an awful, awful movie.)

Conservative (medium) Jews are devout enough to look down on the Reformers without having to go all the way to 11. The big differences are that Conservatives have services largely in Hebrew, make a huge deal about the ‘high holidays’ and get really, really pissed when you marry hot Irish babes (speaking from personal experience).

Orthodox (hot) Jews don’t mess around. Not only do they celebrate all of the major holidays, but they also celebrate the minor holidays (e.g. Purim, Arbor Day) and observe the Sabbath. That means services and candle lighting every Friday night and restricted activities on Saturday. You can always tell an Orthodox Jew because they inexplicably pick up a subtle Israeli accent, even when they’re not Israeli. It’s weird but true.

Now, there are other minor flavors of Jews out the – the Peach mango salsa, if you will. But these Jews, like the felt hat-wearing, curly sideburn-sporting Hasidic Jews, aren’t discussed much because their anachronistic, sexist tendencies cause some embarrassment for the rest of us.

Finally, to clear up one important matter: Yes, Jews sell tickets to temple for the high holidays (Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur). I know that many non-Jews find this to be gauche, but it’s not. Think of it like the NPR annual fund drive - Jews hit you up for the big check once a year rather than going for the five or ten spot every week. And of course you’re going to hold the fund drive on the biggest day of the year.

Tough Jews

Now by “Tough Jews” I don’t mean sports-tough Jews like Jay Fiedler and Gabe Kapler. I mean crazy, gun-toting, ready to rumble Jews. Roughly half of the Jews in the world live in Israel and by law they all serve a stint in the tough-as-nails Israeli Army when they turn 18. Obviously the combination of the fighty Middle East environment and the military training toughens them up considerably, especially compared to their wimpy US cousins. Now, I’ve been to Israel (summer on a kibbutz, baby!) and I can assure you that it’s full of the toughest Jews you’ll ever meet. Here in America we generally don’t think of Jews as being thuggy gangstas (well, maybe Meyer Lansky) but they’re out there and all of us have the hidden potential. You’ve been warned!

Funny Jews

The list of funny Jews is endless. Funny Jews are our people’s bread and butter. I would assert – all biases aside – that Jews are by and large the funniest ethnic group in the world. Richard Lewis. Ben Stiller. Jon Lovitz. Woody Allen. Jerry Seinfeld. Jerry Lewis. Bronson Pinchot. Jon Stewart. Rodney Dangerfield. The list goes on and on. We’ve got low-brow, high-brow, intellectual, political, physical, you name it - every kind of humor is well-represented by the House of David.

No one really knows how Jews came to be so funny. I suspect that it developed as a defense mechanism to compensate for our poor athletic skills. But Jews ARE funny. They even wear funny hats!

Hot Jews

There are more hot Jews in the world than you might realize. And I’m not just talking Mandy Patinkin hot. I’m talking Natalie Portman and Wynona Ryder hot!

Christmas Jews

Another common misconception is that Jews don’t like Christmas. That’s not true. We like it just fine. It’s just not that big a deal to us. A typical Jewish Christmas involves Chinese food and a movie. Sure, it sucks that we don’t get a Rankin/Bass Hanukkah special. And everybody hates that stupid Adam Sandler song, but what are you going to do? By and large, Jews enjoy Christmas just like everybody else.

Summary

As you can see from our exhaustive research, Jews can’t be lumped into one monolithic group - there’s at least sixolithic groups! Jews are just like everybody else in the world – some are good, some are bad, some are cool and some are annoying. Please don’t blame all of us for Joe Lieberman.

Dedicated to Harry the Bowler of the Phoenix B’nai Brith

“I Am…I Said”/Neil Diamond/Stones

Countermoon

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 08:07:51 PST

Today’s Topic:

Is it ever appropriate for men to manage the babysitter relationship?

Point (Cody):

There’s no way in hell that I’m going to ask the marginally-cute, college-aged daycare teacher if she’ll baby sit for us. One of the benefits of getting married is in not having to face the rejection and humiliation associated with asking girls out. In my book, soliciting a baby sitter is uncomfortably close to asking her out on a date. It’s just not going to happen, ever. Sorry.

Counter-Point (Mrs. Cody):

You are an idiot.

Counter-Counter-Point (Cody’s male friend):

I 100% agree with you. Not only are you absolutely right about the awkwardness of asking the baby sitter out on a date, but your wife should be thrilled with you. If you are too uncomfortable to ask out the baby sitter then you’ll obviously never have an affair. Your reluctance to solicit the baby sitter is a sure sign of faithfulness.

Furthermore, have you ever had to drive the baby sitter home? Now, that’s the most uncomfortable 2 blocks of my life. I can barely sweat out a “how’s school going?” before gratefully pulling up to her house. I don’t want to see any hot nannys, either. I don’t need that kind of trouble in my life.

Conclusions:

1) The pain of rejection from high school dating runs deep and never, ever goes away;

2) Men should not have to deal with babysitters, ever; and

3) Childcare workers should preferably be old and unattractive (unless they are Australian au pairs, because all Australian girls are hot and they think that it’s normal to sunbathe topless in your backyard).

Next week’s topic:

Do I have to hug you at the Christmas party? What’s worse: the creepy guy who prematurely hugs everyone or the stand-offish guy who accidentally rebukes your hug attempt?

“Counter Moon”/Donald Fagen/Kamakiriad

Even Flow

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 11:54:03 PST

Answer: Ten.

Question: How many Bikram classes does one need to complete before the addiction kicks in?

On Sunday I completed my 10th Bikram class since I started going to Bikram again in October. And I know that I’m addicted to it because I start planning and scheming for my next class before the sweat is even dry from the class that I’ve just finished.

The fact that it snowed yesterday (just an inch or so) and it’s freezing out today (wish I was dead) isn’t helping to keep me away from the hot room, either.

In a way it’s quite fitting that I find myself back in the very (small) room where I began my yoga journey back in 2004. It’s the classic seeker’s tale – a difficult journey around the world that ultimately reveals that all of the answers could have been found within all along. I left that Bikram room looking for MORE yoga – more postures, more philosophy, more credibility. And I found MORE yoga: an endless array of postures, a buffet of competing styles and lots of philosophy. But I also found something unexpected – that I didn’t really need any of that stuff.

I’m glad for the journey. It was fun. I tried a lot of things. I met a lot of cool people. I learned a lot. No regrets. But for me, for my life, for my needs, I’m content with the simple, stripped-down physical practice that Bikram delivers. Plus, I now see many things in a very different light - for example, I recognize that the Bikram instruction to “suck in your belly” is really just a different way of saying “engage uddiyana bandha.”

On a physical level, I like the continuous sweating that the 90 minute hot class provokes. It definitely leaves you feeling wrung-out and refreshed. I also like the intelligence behind the sequence – each posture is held for a long time and repeated twice, so you can really work on your form. All of the standing postures are mirrored in the supine postures, so in effect you’re working some basic movements four times.

On a mental level, I like the challenge of getting through the class. I haven’t been struggling with the heat much lately (I’m asking for trouble next class!) but there are weird peaks and valleys in the sequence. Getting past the many ‘hate’ postures and reveling in the ‘love’ postures is an interesting mental exercise.

Then again, I’m going to be quitting yoga soon, so most of the aforementioned is a moot point.

Actually, I won’t be quitting – I’ll just be taking a brief hiatus. After years (3+) of dithering around I’ve finally scheduled my right knee arthroscopic surgery for early January. I figure that will keep me out of the studio for a month or so.

A large part of me would prefer not to do it as I’m in a good practice groove right now and I can certainly get by with the minor discomfort associated with a torn meniscus. But I know that I’ll need to get it done eventually and I don’t want to procrastinate much longer.

I guess I'm getting an early start on resolutions this year!

“Even Flow”/Pearl Jam/Ten

VOC Podcast Episode 34

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 21:24:27 PST

Promises, promises. Yoga studios sure make a lot of promises but do they really deliver? Listen and find out!

Click here to listen to episode 34

Click here to subscribe to the VOC Podcast via iTunes

visionsofcody.net

Nightbirds

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 09:26:43 PST

One of the beautiful things about yoga practice is that each and every day represents a fresh start. It truly doesn’t matter what you did yesterday or what you’d like to do tomorrow. The only thing that matters is what you do right now.

This idea is captured in yoga cliché # 37: that only the present moment exists. Like all of the popular yoga clichés, there’s both truth and fiction in its generally accepted meaning. ‘Living in the present moment’ has become a rallying cry for the celebration of the senses, for experiencing life fully. Carpe diem.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

But ‘living in the present moment’ has a much deeper meaning that can be successfully applied to our lives. It actually hearkens back to Patanjali’s definition of yoga as the “cessation of the fluctuations of the mind-stuff” (yogash chitta vritta nirodhah YS 1.2), or as I like to call it, the state of no-thinking.

You see, the snake dude was telling us that we’ve just got to stop thinking. He knew that our biggest problem as humans is that our minds just don’t stop. They think and they scheme and they daydream and they create drama. And our lives are lived in service to that mind-generated drama.

Unchaining ourselves from the past and the future is a necessary step towards achieving the state of no-thinking.

The past is damaging because there are no possibilities. All of the decisions have been made. When we obsess about the past we are giving power to false perceptions of ourselves. We take thoughts and we turn them into who we are. We say: “I acted this way because that is who I am and how I will always be.”

But it’s not true. It’s just a fluctuation of the mind stuff that we choose to accept as truth.

The future is damaging because there are too many possibilities. Our minds cycle through all of the potential outcomes attached to projected actions and we get stuck on the most horrible scenarios. We allow our minds to generate suffering about things that have not happened and most likely will not happen. The suffering exists independently of the actual situations.

You see, it isn’t the past or the future that we have to worry about, it’s thinking about the past or the future that’s troublesome. And that’s why we’re urged to live in the present moment.

But the present moment is no walk in the park, either.

When dealing with the present moment the goal is for direct perception of reality. We want to see things as they actually are, but we seldom do because of the layer of static that separates us from the world outside our heads.

This layer of static is comprised of the subtle thoughts that we have accepted and embraced so deeply that we don’t even recognize them as independent thoughts anymore. They have become who we are. And they affect how we see everything around us.

The field of static includes philosophy, beliefs, perceptions of self, religion, yoga dogma, everything really. And they are all distractions, they’re merely fluctuations of the mind-stuff and they take us further away from the state of no-thinking.

Yes, paradoxically, yoga practice can actually take one further away from the state of yoga.

So, the bad news is that it’s hard to get rid of this layer of static because it’s so subtle and deeply ingrained that we don’t recognize it as being separate from ourselves.

But the good news is that once you realize that nothing about you is set in stone – that everything you perceive about yourself is just a bunch of uppity thoughts run amok - then you are free to change anything and everything about yourself, at this very moment. Every day is an opportunity for a fresh start.

Stop thinking about acting differently.

Stop talking about acting differently.

Just act differently. Right now at this very moment.

Yoga is all about fresh starts because it truly doesn’t matter what happened yesterday or what might happen tomorrow– unless you let it matter.

“Nightbirds”/Ryan Adams/29

When I Paint My Masterpiece

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 11:36:10 PST

I sure have been prolific this year. In fact, I've been so prolific that I just realized that I haven't run a "Classic Cody" installment in far too long. Well, let's fix that today. For those of you that have forgotten the rules, a "Classic Cody" is an old essay that I wrote before starting Visions of Cody. So while it's an old essay to me, it's brand new to you. It's kind of like when a no-name record company releases a CD full of old demos from your favorite band. And these essays are just like those demos - crappy and in dire need of editing. Enjoy!

***

Talent
(Originally written 6-8-04)

I’ve always been impressed by people who are really good at doing things. I’m really average at doing everything. When I was a kid, I was of the misguided opinion that everyone had one unique skill, one gift, to call their own. I’m still looking for mine, and truth be told, time’s passing and I don’t feel like I’m getting any closer to discovering my hidden talent.

People that are really good at sports or music have it easy. Oh sure, it takes a lot of practice to become a great athlete or a world-class musician, but my sights aren’t set that high. I’m just looking for proficiency. Hard work and determination are important, but inherent skill and talent definitely count for something.

My personal athletic history is spotty at best. I’m fairly lazy to begin with and not exactly fleet of foot. I was really terrible at soccer, and I can only remember playing for a year or two at best. Soccer is a sport where the good kids hog the ball and the rest of the kids run around a field looking bored. I hope my kids don’t become big soccer players because watching a game must be more tortuous than actually attempting to play it.

I was slightly better at baseball and stayed in little league till the end. I played every position except pitcher and was a decent hitter. I even tried out for my high school baseball team, but soon learned that it was practically a requirement to be able to complete a quarter of a mile loop around the track in one non-stop jog. I did feel slightly athletic for those two weeks of tryouts and even survived a round or two of cuts before not making the team. It was not one of the most devastating moments of my young life.

I vaguely remember being on the debate team in middle school. I liked making my little speeches and enjoyed the road trips. I used to love getting those little cups of chicken broth from vending machines. Sadly, I didn’t really fit in with the rest of the debate club because they all seemed to be good students with a zest for learning. I was, as you might have guessed, an average student without much zest at all.

I remember my mother questioning me about what I was interested in and what I wanted to be when I grew up. Unfortunately, I wasn’t interested in much, but I did want to be a writer when I grew up. Keep in mind that I didn’t actively write or pursue anything even remotely writing-related when I was that age. I just liked the idea of being a writer.

My parents were concerned about my lack of interests, so they “gave” me a hobby. Actually, they gave hobbies to both my brother and me. He got stamp collecting. I got coin collecting.

Now, as sexy as coin collecting may sound, it is not a hobby that one can just drop on an adolescent. I was supplied with reference books and cardboard coin holders. Whenever anyone in the extended family traveled abroad, I was handsomely rewarded with some foreign loose change. I carefully collected the coins in a McDonaldland plastic piggy bank that was shaped like a garbage can. When I was about 12, I took the garbage can to the bank and attempted to exchange the contents for real money. Although the bank wasn’t interested in the majority of the booty, I was able to turn a few British and Canadian coins into genuine American money. I quickly turned that money into a can of Yoo-Hoo and a game of Ms. Pac-Man at the local convenience store. As abruptly as my coin collecting hobby had begun, it ended, in a haze of chocolate flavored water and power pellets.

Once, my Dad forced me to read Lee Iaccocco’s autobiography in a vain attempt to instill some drive or determination in me. At that time, Iaccocco was very popular for turning around Chrysler. So I guess that my Dad was hoping that Lee could work his magic on me. It didn’t work, but I did eventually buy a car. Unfortunately for Iaccocco, it wasn’t a Chrysler.

I had hoped that some skill or talent would reveal itself in college, but that was not meant to be. When I entered the workforce I again flirted with the notion of actually being good at something, but I soon discovered that the business world would reveal no hidden gifts.

So, I’ve come to accept the fact that I possess nothing extraordinary to separate me from the rest of the gene pool. But I do question whether a person is born with a gift and they just need to uncover and nurture it, or if the gift is developed over time, through hard work and determination.

***

Previous "Classic Cody" installments include:

Dodging the Corporate Axe
The Gym
Lost in the Supermarket
My Psychic Gift
Riding in Elevators

"When I Paint My Masterpiece"/Bob Dylan/Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits Vol. 2

Strong Enough

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 12:36:31 PST

Called in to audition for the same client for the fifth time in as many weeks I wondered why they were even bothering with me again. The scripts were basically the same. It’s not like my voice was going to sound any different than it did during the four previous readings. Logically, the results probably wouldn’t be any different either, i.e. I wouldn’t be getting the job.

Voice-over actors, from the famous voices that perform Hollywood features to the anonymous voices (like me) that do regional commercials, have to be a thick-skinned lot to survive in the bidness. Just about every audition involves failure. You lose jobs not because you suck (well, I suck frequently enough) but because your voice just ‘wasn’t right’ for the project. So, you keep going to auditions, you keep reading scripts and you keep hoping for the best, with only your faith in your own abilities to keep you motivated in the face of overwhelming failure.

This time, knowing that I had nothing to lose, I decided that I would try something different for the audition. I decided to embrace an old acting cliché. I decided that I would make strong choices.

In the acting world (of which I’m ever-so-slightly affiliated) to make a strong choice is to decide to fully commit to a specific, unique approach to the role. It’s a risky move because if the direction you pick is wrong then you’ll have no shot of getting the job. But the upside is that you give yourself the chance to stand apart from the crowd, and with a little luck, maybe even get the job.

So often in life we don’t make strong choices. We fall into our familiar, comfortable, low-risk patterns of behavior. And sometimes it takes just a little fearlessness to get us out of our self-imposed prisons.

At the audition I decided to make strong choices. It felt great. I still doubt that I’ll get the job (you don’t need to tell me ‘no’ five times for me to get the message!) but I was really happy with my performance. I made strong choices. I fully committed to them. The rest is out of my hands, but I did my part.

***

Going to Bikram class for the fifth time in as many weeks I wondered when I would start getting my old Bikram mojo back. The sequence was going to be the same. The room was going to as hot as ever. But with four classes under my belt I was ready to move past mere ‘survival mode’ and start to challenge myself to do a little more.

I had a few excuses cued up before class even started. It was date night on Saturday and fish, chips and beers is hardly a sattvic meal. After watching ‘Quantum of Solace’ at the theater we got sucked into watching ‘Die Another Day’ on TV at home (for comparative purposes, of course.) Bedtime was at 2 and our little guy uncharacteristically woke before 7, so I was going on less than 5 hours of sleep. I could definitely excuse myself for a weak performance in class.

But after setting up my mat I heard an ominous voice remind me to “make strong choices” and I realized that the advice was good for more than just auditions. I realized that making strong choices is something that we can choose to do every day in every situation in life.

In class I decided to make two strong choices:

The first was to fully engage my muscles in each and every posture for the entire duration of the pose. I would ignore the old ‘fear of injury’ excuse and try to really “lock the knee” and hold it for 60 seconds.

The second was to not fall out of poses early. Sometimes in class you lose your balance and legitimately “fall” out of a pose. Most of the time, however, you consciously choose to fall early due to physical or mental fatigue.

All in all I was pretty successful. I only fell out early twice and I kept the muscles engaged about 75% of the time. I’ll keep working on getting to 100%, but it wasn’t a bad start - especially considering that I got so little sleep and was full of fish, chips and beer!

(What, you didn’t think I was going to waste those great excuses, did you?)

***

So that’s my new thing – to make strong choices. From now on (or until I forget) I’m going to make strong choices and I’m going to see them through. And I’m not going to worry about the results of my actions, either.

And eventually that damn phone company will cave and I’ll voice one of their radio spots.

And eventually I’ll keep my muscles fully engaged while never falling out of a pose early.

But even if those things don’t happen, I’ll still be happy with myself for honestly trying.

Karma before punya!

“Strong Enough”/Sheryl Crow/Tuesday Night Music Club

Old King

pomeray@gmail.com (Cody Pomeray) — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 12:11:17 PST

While many people will scratch and fight and basically do anything they can to avoid getting old, there is a small minority of individuals (okay, just me) that actually enjoys aging. I’m guessing it’s because as a child I was blessed with three glorious old men in my life – my two dearly departed grandfathers and my beloved writing idol, Andy Rooney.

I love old men, with their lax hygiene and their stubbornness. I love their rambling, pointless stories about multiple unnamed characters. I love their complaining about anything and everything. And I especially love their old man cars.

Oh my, do I ever love their old man cars. Give me a Lincoln or a Mercury any day. If I had the money I would single-handedly save the American car industry. I dream of one day owning a Cadillac and putting a box of tissues and a navy cap on the rear shelf. I love that fabric roof top that looks like a convertible but isn’t. I love driving a little too slowly and drifting over the center line a little too much. And I love getting mad at anyone that tries to tell me to pay attention to the road.

But my big problem is that time moves so damn slowly. I’m just not getting old fast enough. It’s taken me practically a whole lifetime to get to 37 and I’m not sure that I have the patience to wait another 33 years until I’m officially pronounced old (I’m calling 70 old these days).

To ease my fractured nerves, I’ve been thinking about some of the signs of aging so that I can anticipate and celebrate them as they happen. You know, I’m just looking for a few positive markers to keep me motivated during my long journey.

So today, I’m excited for the day when I can no longer feel the roof of my mouth.

Let me explain. If you’ve ever worked in a restaurant (I was a cook for 7+ years) then you know that soup can never be hot enough for an old person. No matter how bubbling, boiling, scalding or steaming the soup is upon delivery, it absolutely won’t be hot enough for an old person. I’ve served thousands of bowls of soup in my day and I have never once heard an old person say “that’s too hot!” (Although I did once hear an old lady say “that’s hot!” like Paris Hilton and it haunted me for months.)

Since the same exact thing happens with old people and their coffee, my educated guess is that old people must lose all sensation on the roof of their mouths at a certain point in their lives. My palette, on the other hand, is still as sensitive as a baby’s bottom. In fact, just yesterday the roof of my mouth got all “skin-y” from an overly vigorous toothbrushing session.

Speaking of coffee, why do old people drink it with everything? Next time you’re in a diner sneak a peek at the old people and you’ll see that they all drink coffee (black, maybe decaf) no matter what time of day it is or what they’re eating. Coffee and an english muffin? Sure. Coffee and a tuna fish sandwich? Of course. Coffee and spaghetti? Why not?

So, as I was saying…wait, what was the point of this essay again?

Hey! I really am getting old! Hooray for me!

“Old King”/Neil Young/Harvest Moon