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About Rob Pollak

I plan to get famous via the internet.

Nemo Running Diary – Part 1

It’s just after 11 am in New York, and we are in the heart of Nemo.  I can barely see out the window (but only because it’s filthy).

A sneak preview of how I plan to pitch in:

– Frequent blog updates reporting on the reports on the Weather Channel and CNN about the weather.

– Live pictures / videos / Stick FIgures from inside my apartment.

– Live tweeting / Retweeting the worst Finding Nemo jokes the internet can create

– Not changing my clothes for the next 48-127 hours (Sorry Anne.  It’s a blizzard!)

– Making a snowman out of ice cream.  Speaking of which, you can’t spell Snowmen without NEMO.  Coincidence?  No.

– Looking at funny pictures on Reddit.

– Having food delivered every 3-4 hours and vastly overtipping the delivery guy.

– Continuing to update my homemade Nemo Forecast Guide:

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Meditation: I Think I’m Doing It Wrong

(This also appears on the Elephant Journal.  Click through if you really love me)

My legs are shaking uncontrollably, but I can’t focus on the discomfort because my mind keeps jumping from topic to topic:

“Shit, I need an accountant to figure out my taxes”
“Wait, where did I park the car?”
“It’s cold out. I don’t want to go back out there”
“I need to write more or I’ll lose all my readers”
“Anna Kendrick is so hot”
“I should write more”
“Why do I suck at finishing things.”
“Breathe in.”
“Ahhhhh. I feel amazing.”
“Shit. I really need to contact that accountant.”
“I suck at this.”
“ARGHHHHHHHHH.”
“I should write a blog post about how I suck at meditation   I can start it by saying, ‘My legs are shaking uncontrollably, but I can’t focus on the discomfort…'”
“Nah.  That’s stupid.”
“Think about your breath, asshole.”

Don’t be surprised if you don’t recognize it from my description, but, apparently this is ‘meditation.’

A cartoon chart explaining how to meditate - By Rob Pollak

Just the thought of meditation used to make me vomit, a reaction born out of deep genetic coding.  Imagine for a second that Oprah’s spirit animal married Larry David’s.  Actually, you don’t have to imagine it because those two beings did reproduce, and the result was me.

Don’t believe me?  Here’s a brief profile sketch of my parents:

Mom:  Doesn’t eat gluten or sugar.
Dad:  In recognition of his dedicated patronage, was once gifted a stool from a hot dog joint called “Swanky Franks.”

Mom:  Believes in and is devoted to a higher being.
Dad:  Calls me immediately after natural disasters and mass shootings to remind me that they “explicitly prove the non-existence of god.”  Also frequently quotes Christopher Hitchens.

Mom:  Calls everything good that happens “a sign.”
Dad:  Doesn’t think anything good ever happens.

Mom:  Trusts that when God closes a door, he opens a window.
Dad:  Closes the door himself, then checks the lock fifteen times – just to make sure –  before he can go to bed.

Mom:  Is an artist.
Dad:  Thought the movie the Artist could have used a few more words.

Mom:  Sent me on a yoga retreat for my birthday last year
Dad:  Calls me “yoga boy” in a mocking tone.

What does this have to do with meditation?  Well, to this point, not much.  But maybe it helps to explain where I’m coming from and why I have so resisted meditation.

To me, meditation doesn’t represent a time to contemplate and cleanse the mind.  Rather, it represents a choice between (a) facing the judgment of my father and (b) immediately turning into my mother.  Yes, that’s an irrational and self-created decision.  But it’s one that paralyzes me and has led me to recruit an army of therapists who will now be able to drive Jaguars for years to come.

How I meditate - a cartoon drawing by Rob Pollak

But let me back up.

I was first introduced to meditation during yoga classes when teachers would discuss the benefits and invite the class to join a guided practice.  Upon hearing the word – that terrifying, icky word – a flood of anxiety rushed through me.  “Ew!  Meditation.  Bleck.  No thank you.  Ercnhr.  I’d rather not.”  A moment later, the teacher would instruct us to close our eyes and to start paying attention to the breath.  I would comply while patiently waiting for the meditation to start, so I could internally criticize the stupidity of it.

As I waited – eyes closed and mind focused on the breath – I’d start to calm down while I imagined the judgment I would unleash when the meditation started.

You know, meditation, right?  Contemplating your existence while subconsciously being forced to join a cult.

There would be gongs and Buddhists, incense and butterflies, spiritual awakenings and a mass Ebay sale of my favorite technological gadgets.  It starts with one meditation, then before you know it.  Boom. I’m in Tibet eating meals of broth after a quick prayer only to  resurface a few years later on the  front page New York Times, where there’d be an article about either (a) my peaceful protest to save the birch tree, or (b) a mass cult suicide commemorating the latest last day of the Mayan calendar.

That’s what I would think about while I waited for the teacher to begin the meditation.  All the while preparing to pounce with an air of judgmental superiority once we started.

But a funny thing happened.  It never started.  Not once.  The teachers would just ramble on about how we were supposed to focus on our breath.  So I would do it.  Eventually, for like one-tenth of a second, the craziness would be gone.  I’d be thinking about only my breath, and it would actually feel nice.

And just as I was on the verge of connecting with myself, the teacher would snatch me away from my mind and start class.  For the next hour, I had no choice but to think about my breath because if I did otherwise, I would fall down, hurt myself, and probably die.  At the end of class, when my mind slowly returned to thinking about all the nuisances and annoyances in my life, I’d feel more calm about them because I’d had a brief respite during class.

My mind was blown when I recently stumbled upon an article explaining meditation, which basically boils meditation down to focusing on the breath and trying to clear your mind.  In other words, sort of, kind of, exactly what I had been doing.

After an initial panic, I realized that I still regular binge eat gluten and sugar and I only check the lock on the door 10 times before going to sleep.  Meditation hadn’t led to all the things I feared, it just made me feel a little bit better.

And that’s one of the unspoken secrets about yoga and meditation   No one can tell you when you’re ready to try it, but eventually you figure it out on your own.

At first, you think that everyone else has it figured out, that you’re the only fuck up who can’t get his mind quiet when he closes his eyes.  Perhaps that’s true in Tibet.  But at your yoga studio, in your apartment, in your mind, it’s probably not.

We’re all head cases in our own way.  I know because one time I opened my eyes (my dad side) and looked around the room and I made accidental eye contact with three other people doing the same thing.  We all quickly shut our eyes and pretended it didn’t happen.  But it happened.

I know it, you know it, Tibet knows it, and my mom probably heard about it from god.

(PS – If you enjoyed this, follow me on Facebook.)

My current obsessions

Disclaimer:  I have not been compensated in any way for the opinions that follow.  However, that is not because of any moral principle.  I’d gladly accept money in the future to write about your product in a glowing way.

The Soda Stream

Do you like water?  Do you like seltzer?  Do you like things that make a loud buzzing noise when you press a button?  Do you like instant satisfaction?  Do you like to have your mind blown?

If you answered yes to any of those questions, then the soda stream is for you.  Unless you answered no to the second question.  The soda stream is a magical instrument that infuses tap water with magic to make fizzy water.

When I was a kid, we used to get seltzer delivered to us by the Soda Man (TM).  Our vestibule was always filled with three cases like this:

Back then, I loved those seltzer bottles because when you have ancient bottles in your house, your friends definitely don’t make jokes about your parents being clowns.  They also never pick a bottle up, shake it, and spray it in your face.

Now that I am old, have repressed all those memories of my childhood, and have completed 90% of my full transformation into my parents, I like seltzer again.  Thankfully, the Soda Man (TM) is retired, so I can safely make my own seltzer with the Soda Stream.  How does it work? you ask.  I have no idea.  But it does.  And it’s amazing.

The Waze App

I spend about 200 hours a week in the car.  Sometimes all these hours have led to brushes with the law.  Most of the time, though, I just enter a hypnotic state while listening to books on tapes or talk radio.

The Waze App is a community-based GPS app for your phone or ipad.  It’s amazing because everyone who uses it shares information essential to travel.  Like where the cops are hiding.  Suck it, pigs.

Deliberate Practice

The last batch of books I have listened to in the car all deal with inspiring me to write more.  If I can just get past all my neuroses and issues, then I can continue to entertain you as often as possible.

One theme that comes up over and over in these books is how the people who become the top performers in a given field don’t get there through innate ability alone.  They get there by deliberately practicing for 10,000 hours.  Malcolm Gladwell addressed this in Outliers and then extrapolated the idea to prove every point he’s ever had.

The notion of deliberate practice and expertise makes sense to me.  When I reflect on my life, I’ve had a number of different careers and have even mastered some activities (juggling, the ghost valley level in super mario kart, complaining).  I now realize that the difference between me and the people who went on to achieve great things was that they were willing to address their flaws and improve while I was willing to sit around and watch Hulu.

But then I had a major breakthrough.  In every one of these professional encounters, there was one thing that I worked at all the time.  I have probably sent somewhere between 300,000 and 1 million emails where I complained about something.  Sometimes, I would even print these out and make notes about how I could have improved them.  My peers may have been hitting the law books, reading peer-reviewed articles, or doing their jobs, but I was working towards something bigger.  I can really be the Tiger Woods of writing witty one line emails!  Dreams can come true.

The people who respond to my facebook page

You have no idea how happy it makes me when there’s a little indicator next to the globe thingy on my facebook page.  Seriously.  If not for Waze, I would have like 100 arrests for looking at my phone while driving so I can see if anyone said anything to me, and then respond immediately.

This also applies to Twitter.  For instance, check out this American Hero:

 

What to really expect at your first yoga class

Are you thinking about hitting up your first yoga class?

If so, then you’ve probably spent a good deal of time researching what to expect.  In fact, I’d guess that before reading this, you just read fifteen identical articles by someone with a name like “Blissful Yogini.”  Congratulations!  Now you know to “Drink water!” and “Breathe!”  Did those tips set your mind at ease about what to expect in your first class?

Well, if your brain is anything close to the train wreck happening between my ears, chances are those articles just made you feel more anxious.

So, I’m here to break it down for you.  Based entirely on personal experience (which I have embellished for dramatic purposes), here’s a rundown of what you can realistically expect at your first yoga class.

The Regulars

When you walk into the room, you’ll be freaked out.  A number of people will have already set up their mats.  Most likely, these “regulars” claim the same spot at that class every time it is offered.  Look for spots on the floor that have been “marked” by regular’s sweat.  Steer clear of those locations.  Whatever you do, don’t look a regular in the eyes – it may be wrongly perceived as a territory grab.

For your first class, It’s best to arrive between 4 and 7 minutes prior to the beginning of class.  That way, the neurotic regulars will have already set out their mats, but the haggard late arrivers will not yet have started to trickle in.

Where to set up your mat

I recommend grabbing a spot as far in the back left or right corner as possible.

a cartoon by rob pollak - yoga for beginners

You will inevitably think that everyone in the class will stare at you and judge you while you’re doing yoga.  That’s not true:  Only some of the people will be doing that.

Setting up in the back allows you to see what other people are doing most of the time.  You will think that it will also make you invisible to the rest of the class, but it won’t.  Remember that half the time the class will have their heads buried between their legs or will be in some weird twist that allows them to make direct eye contact with you.  Try your best to avoid feeling self-conscious when everyone in the room is looking in the general direction of the midsection bulge that makes you feel badly about yourself.  Everyone is too self involved to notice.

Before Class Starts

In general, people sit quietly before class starts.  Other articles will tell you that this is a good time to sit mindfully and think about the events that are about to transpire.  In actuality, this time should be spent trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone else in class.  This is particularly difficult when there is a mirror in the front of the room.   Just stare blatantly at others only until they’re just about to catch your gaze, then quickly avert your eyes.

Meanwhile, you may notice that a few of the regulars (particularly the older ones) will be “warming up.”  A proper warmup consists of 3-5 minutes dedicated to dry humping the yoga mat.  Although it will be difficult, try not to react to the audible moans or mmmmmms that they emit while in a warm up.  Those sounds are totally normal.  Actually, they’re not normal.  They’re totally tolerated.

Gender Specific Advice

A brief side note for the guys:  Being surrounded by attractive women in yoga pants is an enormous benefit to this form of exercise.  Don’t screw it up by gawking.  There will be plenty of opportunities for a little peek during class.  But be discreet so you don’t Eff it up for everyone else.

A brief note for the ladies:  You know those purple yoga pants you wear?  Well, they become see through when stretched in a certain way.  Like totally completely transparent.  Thought you might want to know.  Nice thong by the way.

What happens to yoga pants when stretched - a drawing

The Beginning of Class

Eventually, the teacher will enter the room.  If you aren’t sure if the teacher has arrived, wait to see if a regular has jumped up to enthusiastically hug someone.  That’s the teacher.  Most likely, their friendship is entirely one-sided, but just forget I mentioned that when you become a regular yourself.

Many classes begin with the teacher asking you to come to a comfortable seat.  Note that by “comfortable” the teacher really means that you should sit with a completely erect back, your legs crossed in an unnatural way, your shoulders pulled back, your chin slightly protruding up, and your hands resting awkwardly on your thighs.  It is not only completely not comfortable, but also painful.

You may be asked to close your eyes and look within yourself.  For the first six months of my yoga practice, I used this time to awkwardly gaze around the room and ask myself, “what the hell am I doing here?”  You may catch eyes with the other person who is incapable of closing his eyes.  If that occurs, immediately close your eyes and pretend like it never happened.

The Poses

Once class gets underway, the teacher will guide you through various poses.  Sometimes, these will be called out in Sanskrit.  You will have no idea what is happening.  Just look around and do what everyone else does.  For reference, I’ve put together a chart of poses that you’re likely to encounter during your first class:

Yoga poses for beginners explained through pictures - A drawing by Rob Pollak

During these poses, the teacher will be instructing you on how to breathe.  Things like “Breathe in” – pause – “Breathe out” – pause.  These instructions in no way mirror the actuality of your breath.  For each “breathe in” instruction, I typically have 7-10 in breaths and 3-5 out breath gasps.

The final pose

The final pose is called Shavasana.  You lie on your back like a corpse and rest.  Of all the things you’ve done during your first class, none will make you feel more like an idiot than lying on the floor and resting.  The teacher will explain the purpose of this pose and instruct you to try to stop thinking about all the anxieties that you have in life.  This instruction will call all those anxieties, which you had not been thinking about until that very moment, to the forefront of your attention.  You may get angry and frustrated.  You’ll wonder how long you could possibly have to lie there.  You will hate yoga.  You will try to look at the clock. And then, for one brief second, you’ll get it.  Something incredible will happen and you will feel rested and amazing and about ready to succumb to the belief that there is something greater in the world.

At that very moment, the teacher will call you back to attention and tell you to sit up.  A second later, you will forget the revelation that you just had.  You will be frustrated.

But at the end of class, when you stand up, a bit of that feeling will return.  You won’t know what exactly just happened to you or understand why, but you’ll feel taller, smarter, more self aware, stronger, thinner, fitter, healthier, heartier, more loving, funnier, and confident.  Congratulations, you’re now a yogi.

(If you love, click on this article at the Elephant Journal and join me on Facebook)