-----------Quiet, Mind! vs. Quiet Mind----------

This morning I did yoga to Lady Gaga. It started out as a dance party of one in my pj’s and after I’d danced a few songs, I had the urge to do a few yoga poses, right along to Lady Gaga. And despite the somewhat  vulgar juxtaposition, it was absolutely perfect for me today. I even got a powerful message: if I pay attention, my body already knows how it needs to move, it knows which muscles need attention and even how to give that attention. I have ready-made-wisdom within me.

Let me back up: I have been plagued for years with this idea of how I should be doing life and how I should be getting to peace. I thought for sure that once I got “there,” certain aspects of my personality would have to disappear because who ever heard of a loud, truck-driver-mouthed, laughing spiritual gal? I thought that once I had achieved a certain level of “peace,” it would just be natural for me to be quieter, crave things like mellow jazz and stop throwing F-bombs around.

That being said, after going through a year of Energetic Healing training, I know that my personality isn’t going to magically evaporate nor would I want it to. However, I am now capable of being quiet in a way that I never was before:  quiet on the inside. I used to need to be plugged into something in order to turn off my mind. And when I attempted to do things like meditate, or even just sit quietly and enjoy a cup of tea, I was full of admonishments for myself: Be quiet! You should be able to be quiet! Why can’t you be quiet?!? Because yelling is a sure way to create peace, right?

I have learned now that if I can stand to be with myself for long enough, my mind gets quiet of its own accord. It just needed to be heard first, and since I’d been drowning it out for as long as I can remember, it had a lot to say. My mind was like a child who lost her mom in the mall…it took awhile to calm down, even once she was found. She needs compassion and reassurance that I won’t abandon her again!

It turns out that being compassionate to my thoughts and mind goes a whole lot further than yelling. Imagine that. Being compassionate to myself brings me peace. And if today’s meditation is Yaga (Lady Gaga Yoga) then so be it. Because even though I no longer need loud music to drown out my screaming mind, I still sure do like to shake my ass to it. 

Artwork Credit: <p><a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=659">Image: Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net</a></p>

Spanking Lies

I am built for famine. My body takes every single extra calorie and stores it away “just in case.” Take the first (and only) cruise I went on: I was gone for a week and came home nine pounds heavier. Yes, you read that correctly: 9 pounds. In a week.

I kept that cruise “with me” for 9 months. Long enough to gestate a baby but all I gave birth to was a lot of self-loathing. Finally, after months of effort, I was down to pre-cruise weight.

But here’s the secret…I had not only lost pounds, I had gained a girdle. So when a colleague said admiringly one week, “You’ve lost weight!” my sheepish-I’ve-been-working-at-it head nod felt a bit like a lie…because I have been working at it, yes, but perhaps working just as hard were my Spanx (well ok, my Target knock-off slimming tank top) that was helping to cinch me in and smooth me all over.

Ladies: let me tell you, aside from having to be an acrobat to get into them, girdles are the best thing since sliced bread. They are like being given a big, tight hug all day. And they may instill you with magical powers! Ancient folklore is full of stories where someone puts on a girdle and they gain strength or protection.

Even so, despite my magical confidence and expanded wardrobe, I worry, as I now just don’t “feel like myself” unless my muffin top is muffled. Is it a lie? Is it the equivalent of using a 5-year old photo on a dating website? Am I lying to the world?  And perhaps more pertinent: since I won’t go back, does slimming the truth matter?

What's Missing?

It is funny the things I miss. It has been nearly a year now and I dearly miss my cutting boards.

I have cutting boards with me now: two white, plastic, Ikea cutting boards, the larger one of which is dishwasher-warped into a sad hump in the middle. They work, they mostly get the job done (I try not to think about the plastic factor too hard), and I as tell myself, they are temporary.

We moved in with my mother-in-law last year after nearly dying in our apartment from Carbon Monoxide poisoning (another story for another day). Many of our possessions, especially my kitchen items, went into storage.

Living life temporarily is a funny thing. After all, this “temporary” is still real life, this moment is it, and while I do miss the actual cutting boards (beautiful bamboo, a smooth finish for chopping), I think what I miss more is the solidness that comes from having everything in front of me and not longing for things.

When I had my cutting boards, I knew exactly what I had. Now, I chop on my too-small plastic board and long wistfully for the boards I remember…but were they really all that?

Is life really better because I had better cutting boards? I think I settle into the longing because it is familiar…when “blank” happens, life will be better. When I am thinner, when I have more money, when I have less debt, when I have more time, et cetera, et cetera. I feel tired from this longing. Yes, I have those cutting boards in storage for the future (and perhaps a smaller dress and debt size, perhaps more money and time), but that doesn’t change this moment, this meal, this day.

Perhaps is it best to just be present. Present to the rough white plastic, the slight rocking of the board against the counter, present to the safe home that I have, the food I am privileged to be chopping, and present to this very moment. All the while grateful that I had the foresight to bring my good knife.



photo credit: http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=901