Dear Reader:

If I was still coming up with clever titles for blog posts (which, of course, I am not), I would name this one "The Day that the Dies Irae saved me from taking Life WAY too Seriously."   It's likely that many of you would not be as amused by that title as I currently am.   But, before I tell you the back story, let me start off with kittens and yoga:

KITTY!   YOGA!!!   FRIDAY!!!!   All right.  I have that out of my system.

I am bouncing back from the sickness, dear reader.   Gratitude abounds.   Ugh.   Let's agree not to meet up again, virus.    And, while you're at it, stay away from my kids.    

Back to the Dies Irae which is, for those of you not immersed in music history, the DAY OF WRATH chant from some single digit century that became the building block for countless numbers of Renaissance, Baroque, Classical, Romantic, and 20th Century art music compositions.   Probably most famously in Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique.   If you were here, dear reader, I'd sing it for you, but here's the gist:

I'd like to think that only on this blog you go from kittens and yoga to medieval chant.   I suspect I can be confident about that.   In fact, that might be a good summary of my personality all wrapped up in two gifs.  

Anyhoo, it was a snow day today - all three flakes shut down the buses and the schools.   Of course.  So, I had to teach this morning with two six year olds in tow.   Now, I have been through many difficulties and made many, many professional and personal sacrifices in this single parent journey, so I wasn't too concerned.   I've got tenure, after all.   Anyway, everything was going smoothly as usual until (also as usual) it was about 5 minutes to departure time and children were not moving quickly and I had to come up with that elusive 5th quiz question for the class that started in 20 minutes and there was ice on the windshield of my car.   I went from emotional equanimity in my household to wailing and gnashing of teeth in T-60.   I was doing the wailing, of course.  (Ha.)   So, I was very passive aggressive and sarcastic with my son immediately followed by a wave of guilt that I didn't have time to feel (I wasted at least a minute imagining him in a therapy session 30 years in the future telling about his always frazzled, totally passive aggressive mom) and I began scraping off the ice from the windshield while the kids hauled themselves into the car seats.    I had to run back in to get the snacks and the iPad to occupy them during class and was ruminating over what I was going to say about Haydn's Symphony No. 103 in class in 10 minutes while simultaneously wondering if my life was going in the direction that I wanted it to go and if maybe I just needed to move to a city, change jobs, join a dating site, get a tattoo, start drinking martinis, enroll my children in some sort of Montessori commune school in Manhattan and join a rollerblade team - all in the next month, of course.    All things that I have actually been thinking about doing for a while.    Anyway, there I was - overwhelmed by life, frustrated, annoyed, angry even.   And, I suddenly realized that I had unconsciously been scraping the ice while humming (loudly and angrily) the DIES IRAE.   Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.   Suddenly, I realized that I was ridiculous and that life was, in fact, ridiculous.   And, that the only response on some days is to - darn it - start humming the Dies Irae.   My kids asked me why I was laughing when I got into the front seat and I said - oh, Mommy is just crazy.   They responded that they knew that.   Of course.

So, there you are.   Sense of humor to the rescue.  Seriously, people, how do people survive without a sense of humor?   I don't envy that battle.

Another thing that I have to share with you, dear blog readers, is this poem that I SERIOUSLY HAD NO IDEA ABOUT UNTIL YESTERDAY.   How is that possible?   I consume poetry like other people consume water.  And, I had never heard of this poet or this poem until yesterday.  Here you go:

A Brief For The Defense

Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies 
are not starving someplace, they are starving 
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that’s what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.

-----Jack Gilbert

That poem is REMARKABLE, don't you agree?  "We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world."    Whoa.   Whoa.   "We must admit that there will be music despite everything."   Seriously.   Interestingly, this poet trained as a classical pianist until an accident where he lost a finger.   He wrote another poem that I read yesterday (because I get obsessed and then have to read all. the. things.) called "The Abnormal is Not Courage" in which he lauds the everyday, long-term, consistent actions as brave and not the one-time bursts of glory for a cause.   Oh heck, here's that one, too:

The Abnormal Is Not Courage

The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German
Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers,
A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace.
And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question
The bravery. Say it's not courage. Call it a passion.
Would say courage isn't that. Not at its best.
It was impossib1e, and with form. They rode in sunlight,
Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal.
Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches.
The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment.
It is too near the whore's heart: the bounty of impulse,
And the failure to sustain even small kindness.
Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being.
Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality.
Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh.
Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope.
The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo.
The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding.
Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage,
Not the month's rapture. Not the exception. The beauty
That is of many days. Steady and clear.
It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment.

--Jack Gilbert

You guys, these poems take my breath away.  I am IN LOVE.   IN LOVE.   Let's all think about them for a year or two.

Right now, however, I need to go enjoy some hot chocolate with these two crazies:

Happy Super Bowl or Downton Abbey (oh, it's getting so bad, but I can't look away) to you all this weekend.   Remember, "accept your gladness" even "in the ruthless furnace of this world."   It seems a good way to live.   

Back to Couch to 5K, yoga, mindful eating, and decluttering for me in the next post - unless I am swept up in another emotional maelstrom, virus, or hitherto unknown poet.   You know how I am by now,  dear reader.     

Thanks for reading!

Dear Reader:

OK.  I'm already tired of coming up with clever or not-so-clever titles for my blog posts, so I'm back to the basic letter format.   Most of the time, I come up with the title, then write the blog post, then discover that the title really doesn't fit anymore, but I'm too tired to change it or come up with something better.   Back to the old tried and true for me, dear reader.  

The sickness that I've been crossing my fingers against (it's been swirling all around - according to one internet source, I live in the most flu ridden part of the country) has struck.   Not my kids, thank goodness.   But, whew, I have been down for the count.   It came upon me on Monday afternoon when I was starting to feel like this John Singer Sargent painting:

That seriously could be me, except for the yards and yards of satin.   Then, it struck full force on Monday night.   I stayed curled in a fetal position yesterday after making Herculean efforts to get the kids to school.    (Aside:  I also watched "What Not to Wear" for a couple of hours in afternoon, reminding myself of why that show was SO GREAT.   I'm just sad that no one can nominate me for it now that it's off the air except for reruns.  Afternoon TV:  such an exotic delicacy.)   I also spent a couple of hours WALLOWING in self-pity.   Good gracious, there is no one more tedious than me when I am sick.   All of the dark spectres of my brain come out to dance around in my head.   I'm usually fairly sanguine about my life circumstances, dear reader, but give me a good virus and it is all doom and gloom.   DOOM and GLOOM, I tell you.  

After sleeping about 16 hours straight, I decided I was totally fine this morning and marched back to work.  Probably not a good idea.   Taking the 1/16 mile walk up to the administrative building this afternoon made me feel woozy and weak.   OK, to be honest, just standing up from my office chair made me feel woozy and weak.  And, heading to church choir practice felt insane.  Apparently, I was committed to riding the insanity train, because go I did.  

I'm pretty sure that I've lost some pounds during the last few days, so there's that.   Ugh.   Not the way one would like to do things, for sure.   And, this is derailing my yoga obsession.   Sadness.   But, it does force me to come to terms with the absolute imperative that I be VIGILANT about taking care of myself.  

My daughter and I had some frustrating conflict tonight about the usual six-year-old-antics-meets-tired-and-sick-and-cranky-single-mother stuff.    At one point, I was lying in bed with her while she was crying and saying "I just want you to be happy, Mommy.   I just want you to be happy."   I tried explaining to her that no one can make Mommy happy but Mommy and that it's not her job to do that, but I think that might have been a bit too sophisticated for the six year old.   I think maybe I was trying to say that to myself - I often find myself telling one or the other of my children something that I clearly mean to say to myself.   It's an odd feeling.   Anyway, I can't stand to let my kids go to sleep thinking that I am angry with them, so she and I whispered a conversation that end in smiles, kisses, and love and she closed those sweet little eyelids and I watched her sleep for about another 20 minutes and thought to myself how incredibly fortunate I am to have these two incredible, innocent, light-filled, awe-inspiring humans in my life and how much they watch me and look to me to see an example of how to be in the world and how I had better treat myself and them and everyone I meet with kindness and love and truth and compassion.    And, then I watched her sweet sleeping face and listened to her precious breathing for about 20 more minutes and just cried a lot.   (Side-note:  I warned you that I am tedious when I am feeling sick/vulnerable.  You can't say I didn't warn you.).

Whew.   All of the feelingz.   Right here.   I plan to take care of myself tomorrow.   I have arranged to hang out at home in the morning, easing into my day (after getting the kids to the bus stop on time!  I CAN DO THIS).   I'll teach three lessons in the afternoon, pick up the kids, head home for an evening of family time.    If I'm not materially better, it will be off to the doctor on Friday for me.  

More positive juju is in the works for the next blog post, I promise.   Be gone, sickness.   Get thee away.

Thanks for reading.

ZOODLES!

Dear Reader:

I have been thinking a lot about how and why writing on this blog has been therapeutic for me.   One of the things that really startles me is how soon I forget things that resonate and become meaningful for me.   I don't really forget them, of course.   They are still there in the recesses of my subconscious.   But, when I go back and read my words from, say, a year ago, it is almost like I'm reading someone else's words.  Someone with whom I have a lot in common.   Someone with whom I sometimes agree  and sometimes disagree.   This is fascinating to me, dear reader.  Fascinating.  And, it reinforces for me that, although conventional wisdom and some scientific studies indicate that the possibility of significant personality change is slim to none, that doesn't mean that we don't reinvent ourselves and that we and others aren't capable of change.    Here's the bottom line for me on this:   People can change, but they have to do it for themselves by creating their own mental life narratives and creating their own senses of self, figuratively speaking.   This is simultaneously dangerous and full of wonderful potential.   Because, you know, how I assemble the bits and pieces of my days into the story of myself can be affected by all. the. things.  Both positive and negative.  

Here's a lovely article that I found which really encapsulates what I think are the reasons why I keep blogging (even though I don't have a huge readership and don't really seek more popularity):

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/01/19/writing-your-way-to-happiness/?_r=1

"Writing forces people to reconstrue what is troubling them and find new meaning in it."   MONEY QUOTE.   At least for me.  And, here's another winner:  "When you get to that confrontation of truth with what matters to you, it creates the greatest opportunity for change."   Right on.   If that is not true, then I am just going believe in it like Santa Claus anyway.   A confrontation with truth creates the greatest opportunity for change?   Hell, yes.   AMEN.    I am dedicated to the idea of growth in my life.   Dedicated.  And growth does not happen without change, failure, struggle, examination, confrontation, and persistence. Seriously.   Sometimes, I would like to cash in my dedication to growth for a resort on a beach in Aruba with unlimited funds and no responsibilities, but that (I grudgingly admit) would become tedious after a little while (maybe I could last a month, though?  Anyone with me?).

So, one of the things that I hope is written in my eulogy after I finish the good fight/race/whatever metaphor seems appropriate, is that I met the challenges of my life head on.   I won't say unflinchingly.  Because if you don't flinch sometimes, dear reader, you are C-R-A-Z-Y.  This s#%t is real.   So, I want to be known as someone who is "fierce with reality,"  you know what I mean?   This doesn't mean that I don't want to imagine a better life.   I want to be able to hold the tension between being present with what is happening and being able to spin my story out into an imagined future without losing hold of either strand.   This is not easy.   But, that is what I want.  And, sometimes, I think it is good to write down what you want.   I won't belabor the fact that I want a chocolate chip cookie right now.  Talk about fierce with reality.  That reality is fierce.  :)

To bring this back from the abstract to the mundane, I do want to announce that I have started the Couch to 5K process.   With the hopes that I'll participate in a 5K in May of this year.  By "participate," I mean start and finish by any means possible.  :)    I've got an app to chart my progress.   I've got new workout clothes.    It's three days a week for a half hour - combination of walking/running.   Doable.

So, these are totally the most form fitting workout pants that I've ever worn.  They are, however, super comfortable and warm.   I am, however, totally self-conscious about how my body looks in them, but my fellow parents at the bus stop and the grocery store check-out clerks did not look away in horror and even mentioned (in both cases!) that I looked super cute.  Someone did say super cute, y'all.  OK, it was my friend.  But still.   

Now, this is my new workout shirt.  I love this feature which keeps the hands somewhat warm.  For some odd reason, I am completely infatuated it.   I want to play all of my concerts in this.   

And, in all of my moaning about winter, let me give Mother Nature her due.  Lately, she has been spectacularly kind and gentle.   It's January, folks, and it was so pleasant.   Of course, I expect that we will pay for this.  But maybe not?  

So, I know that I said that I wasn't going to make any more goals other than my three original ones (WW, sleep, declutter), but well - "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds." - Emerson - and, well, "I contain multitudes." - Whitman.    Give me a break.   Also, I can justify this because I gave up on WW.   OK, I also started the mindfulness food journal to replace that.   Whatever.   It's just like that time I decided to date 10 different guys in 10 different weeks my junior year in college.   I'm full of hare-brained ideas.  Pretty much all the time.   

Speaking of....  I've been a little obsessive on the smoothie front:

Also, I am contemplating buying the following item:  A vegetable spiralizer.  

Ta-Da!

Those are zoodles.   Zucchini noodles.   For use in the following yummy dishes:

Sometimes, I get fixated on things that I think will change my life.   Most recently, it was a coat rack for my front hall which, for the record, did change my life.   Now, it's this.   $34.   I think it might be worth it to turn a banal, tedious vegetable into a gorgeous spiral of awesomeness that lowers your carb intake.   Whee!   

I will leave you with an inspiring article about yoga's impact on one woman's weight loss and health. This is an awesome story.  

http://www.yogiapproved.com/yoga/weight-loss-yoga-megan-zamora/

Thanks for reading!

Warning:  Contains Poetry


Dear Reader:

Here's a cartoon for you (by the inimitable Roz Chast - one of my heroines!):

Can I hear an Amen?    January just drags on and on and on and on.  We're halfway through, folks.  Passed through the ides of January.   Nothing terrible happened.  So far, no polar vortex here in Southwest Virginia.  (I probably shouldn't have said that out loud.  Wait.  I didn't say it out loud.  I just wrote it out loud.  Whew.).    And, to give Mother Nature her due, I will say that we've gotten a fair amount of sunshine for this time of year.  Still.   We are looking at, probably, two more months or so of wwwwwiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnttttteeeeeeerrrr.  

Every once in while, however, when I am feeling whiny and self-absorbed (yes, yes, that's about 80% of my waking life.  I know.  I know.  Shut up.),  I am hit with some seriously inspiring stuff all at once.   It's sort of of like the universe or a higher power or my own awesome and amazing brain (whichever or whoever you prefer to attribute it to - it makes no matter to me...) decides to jolt me out of my deeply solipsistic rut by showing me things/people that are like a call to action.   Or things/people that show me that I am not the only one that is feeling all the feelings.   Ha.  

One friend sent me this lovely poem by William Martin:

And, he gave me the compliment of telling me that he thinks I do this already!   Thanks, T.!   This is fantastic reminder to me.   And, not just for my children.   I actually think they are more likely to do this for me, rather than vice versa.

Another friend reminded me of this poem by William Stafford:

**************

A Ritual to Read to Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in this world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote, important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider --
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep,
the signals we give -- yes, or no, or maybe --
should be clear; the darkness around us is deep.

******************

Talk about a call to action.  That poem is like a kick to the solar plexus.  "I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty/to know what occurs but not recognize the fact."    Whew.   "For it is important that awake people be awake,/or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep."  Geez.   Just yeah.   I want to be, above all else, AWAKE to my life.   For sure.   And, there are many times when I am not. Those times are becoming more and more unacceptable to me.  

Less serious, but still highly inspirational to me was this lovely treasure:

http://www.buzzfeed.com/hannahjewell/historical-women-who-gave-no-fcks#.uq33aG8RZL

And, I don't just love this because of the rampant swearing (which I do secretly LOVE.  OK, not so secretly.).    I mean, to heck with me and my little body image/eating problems and mental health issues.   LOOK at what these women did.  COME ON.  It makes me want to go out and climb Mt. Everest and start a school in Timbuktu or become a journalist in a war-torn country and/or do all sorts of magically inspiring things.   COME ON.  COME ON.    I am envisioning myself training with a punching bag right now.  :)

Anyhow, I should probably try to manage to get in a run tomorrow to start with, right?    In an effort to keep myself and you abreast of all of the developments in my personal goals, I would like to share two meals that I thoroughly and healthily enjoyed recently:

Look at that sweet little teapot, dear reader.   I have a very precious and ridiculous love of individual teapots.   And, they must not be fancy.   Just a solid color with an elegantly turned spout.   The kind you have to hold the lid on while you pour.   Just looking at that teapot makes me happy.  Also, do you notice the purple pen on top of the colorful clipboard.  Purple!  Botanically inspired clipboard!  Gorgeous Office Supplies!!   I was making a list.   I was the only one in the restaurant (it was a late, late lunch).   The waitress left me alone.  The portions were perfect.   I savored every bite.   This, my friends, is an example of a good relationship to food.   Right there.   I'll admit that I do not achieve this often, but on this day I did.   And that salad above?   Bacon, balsamic vinaigrette, pickled onions, egg, cucumbers, tomatoes, greens, croutons, goat cheese.  NEED I SAY MORE?

I have been writing down when I eat something and I feel gross or shameful or unsatisfied or dissatisfied or anxious.   And, I have been writing down when I feel peace and enjoyment and satiation after I eat.  I am hoping this will help me stop and notice my patterns.  

Also, I went to 456, 200 yoga classes this week.  Maybe that's an exaggeration.  I went to four classes this week.  And, I really do think that my plan for three a week during the semester is going to work out.   I have a good mix of classes that really "stretch" me (HA, HA.  Such a lame joke, but still makes me laugh.) and classes that are healing.   I know I've said this before, but yoga really does seem to be a place where I can find emotional and physical healing.   I am planning on trying to incorporate the mental/emotional stability and peace I find there in other areas of my life.   I don't even feel bothered by the incredibly flexible twenty somethings that fill up my classes.  That's a minor miracle.  All I feel during yoga is love for myself and for the universe.  For real.   Now, just to get that to carry over to my 500 meeting and classes and lessons without annoying everyone around me with my Zen.  Ha.  

Tomorrow, I plan to declutter the living room.   A daunting task.   But, hey, it's not like I'm trying to invent penicillin or be the first woman to swim the English Channel.  COME ON.    

And, dear reader, I will now reveal that I have a slight addiction to scented soaps.   I actually (insert embarrassed shrug here) keep one in my purse at all times to sniff when I feel anxious.   So, today I indulged in my two favorite scents: 

I am armed.   I am motivated.  And, I will leave you with another funny Roz Chast cartoon so that this post will become a Roz Chast sandwich.   You are welcome.   I'll leave it to you to figure out where my blog falls in this pie chart!   Thanks for reading.

Radical Wednesday


Dear Reader:

Tuesdays and Wednesdays are my longest days because they involve evening activities (kids' dance class and church choir).    When I get home, all I want to do is curl up in bed and be by myself.   But, I have to make myself get things ready for the next day and get those kiddos to bed.   So, I'm usually too tired to write a blog post on these days.

However...

I had an amazing day today - for NO GOOD REASON.   And, I really just needed to share that news.  If one looked at my day on paper or, frankly, even shadowed me on this day, one would be hard pressed to figure out why this day was amazing, but I'm going to try and explain.

First of all, it was grey, cold and rainy all day.  Strike one.  I took my car into the shop to get an oil change yesterday and found out all. of. the. things. were wrong with it and I had to leave it overnight and then hand the car place a check for $1500 today (after my original pick-up time was moved back three hours and the car place is a half hour away).  Strike two.   The county school system had a two hour delay causing me to have to cut my first class of the semester short because I had to take my kids to the bus stop.   Strike three.   I could go on.

But, for some reason, I just decided to roll with the punches today.   I laughed in the face of despair.   (OK, that was actually way too dramatic.  Ha, ha.   Laugh in the face of despair...).    I also had time, while sitting in the car shop waiting room, to finish up "Women, Food, and Desire:  Embrace Your Cravings, Make Peace with Food, Reclaim Your Body" by Alexandra Jamieson.   I found this to be a super-helpful read for someone with my particular body image and food relationship issues - which, I am coming to believe, are very much related to some emotional issues that I have with allowing myself to let go of the false sense of guilt and shame I have about some of my own needs, wants, and desires and the ways in which I try to suppress them or express them.  

In fact, I've been thinking about this for a couple of weeks now, as I've been tracking points on WW, but I've decided to do something RADICAL (for me).   I am going to quit WW.   I am going to quit reading articles about how to lose weight (like there's anything new under the sun that I don't already know about).   I am actually going to start detoxing, little by little, from social media.   (I'm already starting that by not posting this on FB).   I am going to continue to keep a food journal and write about how I feel before and after I make my food choices (no calories, no points).    I am going to ask myself some hard questions when I make decisions about food.   Why do I want to eat right now?   Is there something that I'm trying to avoid dealing with by eating?   Is there some other physical pleasure that I can substitute for this food?   Will this food make me feel the way I want to feel?  

Here's the deal, dear reader.   I am a smart girl.   I know what I need to do.   As Michael Pollan says, "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants."   Yep.   Seriously.   And, Be Active - in ways that I enjoy and that make me feel comfortable in my own skin.   I need to trust my body and my mind and my heart to tell me what I need and how I should get it.  I need to understand that I may trying to mask some deep emotional needs when I eat mindlessly.   I also need to believe that I can become more mindful and aware and kind to myself.   I need to believe that I am worth self-care, not just self-medication.

As I finished up a practice session on some Bach pieces today, I thought about how most of my problems in performance or practice come from not trusting myself, from somehow thinking that someone else can tell me how to do this better. When I don't trust myself, I don't take healthy risks.  I don't reach.   By trying to avoid failure, I actually fail more profoundly.

Here's how I want to feel in my body and my mind:

* Light
* Full of Ease
* Alert
* Comfortable
* Energized
* Desirable
* Attractive
* Loved
* Strong
* Powerful
* Joyful
* Aware
* Beautiful
* Open
* Connected

As Jamieson puts it, "When you get clear on how you want food to make you feel, then you can step into the space where eating becomes infused with deep pleasure and great meaning.   Because when you eat as an expression of self-awareness and self-care, eating becomes transformational:  it becomes fun, it becomes a source of a different kind of satisfaction, and it becomes a source of life-giving love....But food cannot provide emotional support; only other humans can do this.  It's so important for all of us to remind ourselves of this fact whenever we're hit with that existential hunger for human connection that stops all of us in our tracks more often than we're comfortable acknowledging.  Instead, we need to recognize when we are in the throes of uncomfortable emotions, and then, because we are not mistaking these complex feelings for physical hunger, we can make better food choices."

Yes.   That's it.  

Anyway, I'm feeling optimistic today.   And, I'm feeling like I should take care of myself because I am a good and worthy person.   It's OK for me to want to feel loved, desired, connected.   And, I can't control whether or not others make me feel that way, but I can, painstakingly, treat myself the way I wish/hope others will treat me.  With kindness and compassion and love.   So I'm saying goodbye to the points and the numbers and the diets.  I am going to try and rely on my own good common sense and knowledge.   I am going to try and take more time with making choices about food and exercise and listen to what my body, mind, and heart really want.  

Radical Wednesday, folks.

Thanks for reading.

Winter, Proust, Billy Joel and Hemp Seeds

Dear Reader:

I just wanted to make a statement with that title.   I'm not sure what that statement is, but expect each one of those things to show up in this blog post.

Just to get this out of the way, I would like to share, once again, that I am definitely and definitively NOT A WINTER PERSON.

You can talk to me all day about the benefits of coziness and hibernation and winter sports (believe me, people have) and I am still not going to be a winter person.   I know that I would not like living in a place that doesn't have any seasons, so I put up with it because of the euphoria that I feel in early spring, but seriously, there is a reason that Shakespeare mentions the "winter of our discontent."

It doesn't help, of course, that I am experiencing depression right now.   It may be a combination of a mild, pervasive dysthymia, seasonal affective disorder, and/or situationally based depression, but 5 or 6 days out of 7, I wake up sad.   There.  I said it.   I am doing my best to alleviate it.   I don't need advice about it, dear reader, but I am quite open to empathy/sympathy!  I am quite functional, really.   And, I've had enough experience with this before that I do not think it will go on forever.   It's possible that I will try some pharmaceutical help before too long if my other avenues of self-help do not bear fruit.   And, I don't plan to go on (ad nauseum) about this on this blog.   Just putting it out there as part of my list of things that are teaching me something about myself.   OK, just writing that makes me laugh a little, because I am clearly trying to put a positive spin on this.   I work really hard at that, don't I?

Anyhoo, I have made some good progress on the getting to bed by 10:30-11pm front lately.   It's kind of liberating, actually, to just leave a whole bunch of s#%t incomplete and just tumble into bed.   Things in my life or my house do not need to be in order for me to be able to sleep!

Speaking of houses (this is a little digression), I have found my dream house on the internet:

Isn't that FANTASTIC?  Look at the porch.  It's clearly in the mountains.   It's roomy and rambling. And probably doesn't have any neighbors too awfully close.   If I lived in that house, there would be two big dogs, at least three cats, and children playing soccer in the yard at all times.   Friends would be over every weekend having dinner (on the porch in summer) and making great conversation.   There would be a room with my piano in it at the back of the house with a giant picture window so that I could practice to my heart's content looking at the stream down at the bottom of the lawn (yes, darn it, there is a STREAM.).   In fact, the piano room is so big that I can have my violinist and cellist friends over on a regular basis to practice trios.   I'm almost crying about it. OK, not almost.  I'm actually crying a little.  I want this house.   Too bad I have no idea where it is.  Also, that's it's undeniably way out of my price range.   Sigh.   Dreaming...

OK, back to real life here.   And, real life ain't that bad really.  I watched the Library of Congress Gershwin Prize for Popular Song broadcast on PBS last night.  It was honoring Billy Joel.  And, oddly, although I have a SHOCKING lack of knowledge about popular music from any era, I LOVE BILLY JOEL.  I actually know all the words to most of his songs.   This is shocking, indeed, since I have an appalling inability to remember lyrics.  I loved this show.   His songs are good.  I mean, GOOD.   My brothers were into him in the 70's when I was a mere infant (yeah, born in '71).   He actually came to play in his "Piano Man" tour to the college where I grew up and where my father spent his career.   Around '76 or '77, I think?   I always like to point out that my senior recital was given on the same piano he played.   But, for some reason, I played tapes (yeah, actual cassette tapes) and CDs of his albums over and over and over again during the 80s and 90s.  Totally awesome.  "Vienna."  "Just the Way You Are."  "She's Always a Woman to Me."  "Allentown."  "Shameless." "New York State of Mind."  "Uptown Girl."  Of course, "Piano Man."  I could go on and on.  It was very cool to see how much the audience was joining in and singing the songs.   So, anyway, I think I'm going to download some mp3's and see if I can relive my attachment to these songs.  That's got to be a mood lifter, right?   :)

Also, I found this fantastic book:

I'm about halfway through this book and it is really resonating with me.   I've been doing some work in therapy about my reasons for having such an unhealthy relationship with food and an unhappy relationship with my body.   Good, solid, but kind of exhausting work.   And, this book is reinforcing and affirming some of that work.   It's all about listening to what one's body/mind/emotions are really asking.   It's about allowing oneself to be serious and committed to self-care and pleasure and to not feel shame about the things that you desire.   And, it contains a quote by Proust that I love:

"I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake.  No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me.  An exquisite pleasure invaded my senses."

Yes.  That's right.  I want to create that kind of relationship with food.  Where I STOP.  Intent upon the extraordinary thing that is happening.   Exquisite pleasure?   I don't have enough of that in my life.  I'm too much on autopilot.  Too numb.  Too much avoidance and preoccupation.   Too much joy squelching for a variety of complicated reasons.   So, I'm trying to strip those things away.  Declutter.  Yoga helps me do this.   Becoming more mindful.  

I enjoyed these two meals today.   And, ate them slowly.

Always more chances for good choices, right?  

And, I've got a new smoothie recipe for breakfast (you wondered where the hemp seeds were going to come in, didn't you, dear reader?):

Frozen blueberries, almond butter, pumpkin seeds, chia seeds, hemp seeds, walnuts, Brazil nuts, banana, coconut oil, almond milk, water.

Very low glycemic index.   A good amount of protein.   I'm psyched.

Another positive step that I've taken:  I have carved out the possibility of time for three yoga classes a week.   I think this might help me survive the next few months.   Two are early morning classes that will allow me to get to work by 10am on Tuesdays and Thursdays - I'll be there bright and early on MWF (see, I said that because I felt guilty about coming in so late on T/Th, but really, folks, why should I feel guilty?  Why?  Why?).    One is a Sunday restorative yoga class and I'm already trying to get a regular babysitter for that one.   I am worth this commitment to the one of the few activities that lifts the sadness for a little while.

Things I am grateful for today:  1) happy, happy children and the certainty that we are a loving family.  2) The ability to continue to grow even in times when life seems heavy.  3) Music which lifts me out of myself.  4)  "Parks and Recreation" which makes me laugh.   5) Work which makes me think about other people and what I can do for them on a regular basis.   6) Fortune cookies that have this message:

If you are speaking well of me, dear reader, I thank you.   I also thank you for reading my ramblings.

Inspiration Overload


Dear Reader,

We made it!   The holidays have been survived!   Back to business!   OK, that was an overuse of exclamation points, dear reader.   But, it is good to be past that space in the year which is often simultaneously full of comfort and joy and darkness and isolation - metaphorically speaking (and sometimes, realistically speaking).    I had a good time with 2 brothers and 1 niece and 3 nephews and 1 sister-in-law and 1 mother and 2 children of my own and 3 dogs and 1 cat and several fish during the past week.  Ha.   Aside from some impressive bruises and scratches sustained during a "spill" in front of the National Cathedral whilst looking up at the Rose Window and remaining oblivious to a stone step, I have only good feelings about being with my family.   That's a really enviable thing, I am led to believe - from others' accounts.   We celebrated my Mom's 80th birthday in style and, I think, created a "good time" for her - which was the point.    I'll save my self-indulgent ramblings on how wonderful she is for another time.   I think I've made it clear that, aside from giving me life, she has loved and supported me unconditionally and fully for a good, oh, I don't know, 43 1/2 years or so...   Sniff.   Anyway, I am grateful to have all the time that I have with her.    It's also gratifying to see how much my children love her.   That's pretty special.    My kids and I were talking about things that our family is good at - recently.   My daughter decided that being "lovey" was one of those things.   Yeah.  Probably.

Anyhoo, I will admit to being overwhelmed by the New Year's positivity and inspiration I've been seeing on social media lately.   There's always a sort of desperate quality to the good intentions that surface at this time of year.   Now, as I mentioned in my last post, I am ALL FOR GOOD INTENTIONS.  Keep having them.  EVERY DAY, people.  EVERY DAY.  But, don't do it because you are supposed to do it.   Don't put on a suit of positivity to mask your struggle, you know what I mean?  To continue the Parks and Recreation thread that I've got going recently, don't be Rob Lowe's character - who is AWESOME as a character, by the way.   You know what I'm talking about.   He breaks up with Ann Perkins, but is so positive about it that she doesn't even know that he's breaking up.   He lets everyone else deliver the bad news.

I will admit that I sometimes (read: all the time) fall prey to the desperate optimism and cheerfulness and self-improvement syndrome.   Just recently, I read this little meme on the internet:

And, I thought to myself.   YEAH.  YEAH.  THAT.  TOTALLY.   And, I was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside about it, and then my fusty, skeptical academic side surfaced and looked up the author and saw that the quote comes from a 20 something created website that specializes in quotes that help people recover from dramatic 20 something relationship breakups in the most cliché of ways, and I kind of laughed at myself, but still quietly said to myself (yeah. yeah.  that.  totally.  I mean, I think.  At least partially, right?).

Sidebar:  This happens to me quite frequently, and I have come to view this as one of those things that makes me a "unique snowflake" (Ha, ha, ha- see, I'm making fun of myself again).  The fact that I have a totally romantic, sappy, sentimental, cries-at-all-of-the-biggest-clichés side that often does battle with a logical, rational, academic, skeptical, intellectual, snarky, slightly obnoxious side.

So, here's a lovely sentiment from the darker side:

Ha, ha, ha.   Anyway, dear reader, I digress.   Actually, I'm not even sure that there was even anything to digress from, but...  I am feeling some energy about my three goals for the next six months (1 - track WW points, 2 - get a good amount of sleep - use restorative yoga to help and 3- declutter and purge).    My good intentions for tomorrow are to initiate the food tracking (my kids will be back in school and I will be getting back to a routine), power up the fitbit and take a walk on the Salt Trail in the morning, have a productive therapy appointment,  write some letters of recommendation, and respond to some business e-mails.   This seems doable.    Regarding the sentiment above in a more serious light, I would like to avoid thinking of self-improvement during the next few months.   It is such a Western cultural idea to constantly IMPROVE oneself.   I want to start accepting and embracing myself.   No improvement needed here.

But, I did have a friend ask me if I ever thought of having a theme word for the year.  Now, this has always struck me as a little treacly-inspirational.  I may have snarkily joked about a former college president who gave each graduating class such a word.  But, as I mentioned before, despite my skepticism's best efforts, I still buy into some of these things.   And, as I was about to dismiss this idea completely, the PERFECT word came to me.   LIGHTNESS.   LIGHTNESS, dear reader.   I want my 2015 to center on the concept of LIGHTNESS.    There's the obvious physical/metaphysical duality of the term.   Come on, for someone who struggles with her weight, this is a powerful term.   I don't want to be thin or skinny.  I want to move with lightness.    And, GEEZ, how about some emotional lightness.   Boy, could I use that in my life right about now.    I have really, really, really, really been struggling with letting go of some toxic thoughts and feelings.   I want my relationships to have more lightness in them.    I want to let the light shine in on my mind and heart in my professional and personal work.   I want to empathize with my friends and the world more lightly - I don't want others' pain to be such a heavy load on my shoulders.   That doesn't mean that I don't want to share with those in pain - I just don't want to take it on myself, if it is not necessary.    

I named my daughter Lucy because that name means LIGHT.   And, she is a light in my life - no doubt.   I love light.    Sunsets.   Sunrises.  Candles.  Fireplaces.   Stained glass.   The moon.  The sun.   Stars.   Light is so liberating.   Light is so weightless.  Light is always changing and has a myriad of qualities.  Light is so - forgive me - illuminating!    So, here are some pictures to urge me on:

And, here are some amateur pics that I took at the National Cathedral:

And, last but not least, here's the new nightlight that my daughter picked out (like mother, like daughter):

2015:  Lightness

Let's do this, dear reader!   

Thanks for reading.