I continue to be humbled and challenged by this 108 day cycle.
I have been keenly aware these past few weeks, that there is a committee in my head that talks regularly about where I want to be, as opposed to where I am. Or points to where I was and asks how I managed to mess up and lose what I had found there. The committee, in this moment, is focusing on how I want to be where I was this summer in terms of muscle tone, energy, and diet. Yet, here I am, in all of my imperfect glory with less muscle tone, less energy, and at times, less than supportive choices within nourishment. I am in what I like to refer to as a 'breaking out of the cocoon' phase. My body has been busy resetting itself, and quite honestly, my life has been in that same process.
The other morning I was able to separate out the voice of the committee from the voice of my heart. And here's what it looked like:
Committee: It's 5 AM. Get up and do your yoga. Otherwise you're going to feel terrible at work today. And then you're going to be flabby and unattractive.
Heart: It's 5 AM. I need to wake up slowly. I don't know if yoga is the best movement for me this morning. I am healthy. What matters is how I feel in my body. And if, right now, I have gained a few extra pounds, it is a sign that something else in my life is out of alignment - that I need ballast . . . or protection. I want to pay attention to that signal from my body. And right now, part of that signal is asking me to move slowly.
Committee: How long are you going to move slowly for? It's been long enough. You have to do yoga. You know that it works. Otherwise you're just going to slide into nothingness and be completely unproductive and useless.
Heart: I need something different this morning. I'm not certain what just yet. But I want to lay here and feel into it.
About an hour later I did pull myself from bed and wandered around my apartment for a few moments before sitting at my altar. Yes, of course I wanted to do yoga - I ache and long for how I feel after an hour's practice. Yet I could feel that something about it just wasn't in alignment for that morning. And after a few moments at my altar, it occurred to me to grab the coconut oil from the bathroom, and to spend some time massaging my feet - something that I used to do quite regularly when I was studying acupuncture and massage therapy. After ten minutes of this, I felt at peace, relaxed, and centered. And when it came time to fix breakfast, I reached for things that were deeply nourishing and balanced. Because I could feel that within my body. Because I was invested in maintaining that feeling. Because I had given myself the space to explore what I need.
I could have lived in the space that my committee was trying to create - the future or the past. Instead I chose to live in the moment. Like a garden - you can't water it in the future. You have to stand in this exact moment, and water the plants where they are now. Seedlings. Sprouts. Or even just dirt. Where ever you are in your practice, in your life, in your thoughts, in your body - give water to the here and now . . . and see what grows in this moment.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
The Body As An Altar
The past four days have been filled with expressions of headaches, sore throats, congestion, exhaustion, fever, and chills. I have been complacent, frustrated, bored, restless, and curious about these expressions. Often in my life, I have found that the timing of these types of expressions has much to teach me. Very often, expressions such as these become opportunities to shed what no longer serves me. I think of them as physical detoxifications with roots in my spirit. And so while I search to provide what I need on a physical level to heal, I'm also mindful of what might be alive under the surface.
In the midway point of all of this - two nights ago - I woke up in the early morning hours from a very vivid dream. In this dream I had returned to the weaving studio to pick up my final project. I was excited to see how it looked off the loom and how the colors and patterning would come together as a whole. (In real life I have apprenticed in this weaving studio, and do have a final piece waiting there that I haven't yet seen off the loom.) I walked into the studio and my teacher pointed me to the table where the weaving was to be found. As I walked closer to the table, I became very confused. What was there looked incredible different than what I had woven on the loom. It was smaller in size - perhaps only 3x4ft - and the colors were not bright and fiery - instead they were deep and earthy. When I looked closely at the pattern, I could barely see the patterning as I had known it and woven it - somehow the weave had become much tighter and the patterning I had known sat below the surface, covered over by a different pattern. And then as my eyes moved towards the lower part of the weaving, I saw the image of a white deer. I was perplexed as to how and why it had changed so much. And I examined it with great curiosity. To some degree I was sad because I had so deeply enjoyed the colors and the patterns I had woven. And to some degree I was intrigued at the changes that had taken place and the piece that had transformed itself. I wanted to know more of how it had happened, and what I could do in the future to better understand the transformation, when I would weave another piece. I wanted to know so that I could create with more intention and thoughtfulness. My eyes traveled back to the image of the white deer again, and I realized that even the materials were different from what I had started with. Overall, I could feel the hardiness and earthiness of the piece. It would be durable. It was rich in its tones. It could be passed forward for generations, it had come to me through generations.
When I woke from this dream, I didn't know what to think at first. But as the last few days have unfolded and I have watched my body move through this expressions of imbalance, I have more clarity.
These past few mornings actually - in the space of being sick, I have somehow found my way back to sitting with my altar quietly. I have gone through a few months of feeling fidgety and impatient, and slightly confused as to how 10 minutes suddenly began to seem burdensome. Now, in the space of my body demanding for me to slow down, I sit easily, lavishing in the connection. Feeling my soul in all of its edges and unrefined shapes and opening to the nourishment of that quiet space. This morning I was keenly aware of what I would refer to as the edges of my soul - the space of my deepest truths and knowings of who I am - alive and well - waiting to be given space to come forward. And I was aware of how different that space felt from that of my physical self which was riddled with a fever, sore throat, and tired to the trunk of my body.
Ah! There it was . . . the door opening to my understanding of the dream and of my body's current expression. The physical being that carries our souls through this world - our bodies - our altars. We decorate them with our clothing and haircuts. Shape them with our actions and the foods that we digest. Modify them with tattoos and piercings. And yet, no matter what we do, our physical selves move through the process of transformation inherent in the living - slowly moving towards its return to the earth. Our bodies serve as our altars - carrying our souls through this world. And it is how we attend to these altars that can help us to reach deeply into our soul - our heart - the generations of ancestors that come before us. And sometimes, those altars need to be wiped clean, rearranged, reorganized, to reflect our own shifts in the transformations of bringing the edges of our souls more deeply into immediate action and connection with the world around us. Sometimes it requires our bodies to be worn down to the edges, so that the path has less resistance. Sometimes it is the will of the universe for us to slow down from our modern life, so that our souls have more space and time to be filled, nourished, and to expand in our bodies and in the direction our lives are taking.
As in the dream - what I thought I was creating - was merely the outer layer to something much deeper, older, and wiser. And in the process of the weaving coming off the loom, the elegant patterns that I had created in the bright and fiery colors, receded to reveal something with far more sustenance and body. The altar found in sitting at the loom and weaving, combining shapes, colors, and patterns, was only the practice meant to open the doorway to the soul of the piece. What it was that was really meant to be alive and present in this world. What I was truly here to create and give birth to.
And so I realize as I ride these waves of fevers, headaches, and otherwise, that the food that I place into my body feeds and nourishes on a physical level, but truly is meant to reach into that deepest place within myself - to draw that essence out into the world. So the choices that I make need to match the vibration of that deeper self. Because the food, just as with the things that sit on my altar in real life, is the offering. The offering to the altar of my body. The offering to the divine spirit within and without.
In the midway point of all of this - two nights ago - I woke up in the early morning hours from a very vivid dream. In this dream I had returned to the weaving studio to pick up my final project. I was excited to see how it looked off the loom and how the colors and patterning would come together as a whole. (In real life I have apprenticed in this weaving studio, and do have a final piece waiting there that I haven't yet seen off the loom.) I walked into the studio and my teacher pointed me to the table where the weaving was to be found. As I walked closer to the table, I became very confused. What was there looked incredible different than what I had woven on the loom. It was smaller in size - perhaps only 3x4ft - and the colors were not bright and fiery - instead they were deep and earthy. When I looked closely at the pattern, I could barely see the patterning as I had known it and woven it - somehow the weave had become much tighter and the patterning I had known sat below the surface, covered over by a different pattern. And then as my eyes moved towards the lower part of the weaving, I saw the image of a white deer. I was perplexed as to how and why it had changed so much. And I examined it with great curiosity. To some degree I was sad because I had so deeply enjoyed the colors and the patterns I had woven. And to some degree I was intrigued at the changes that had taken place and the piece that had transformed itself. I wanted to know more of how it had happened, and what I could do in the future to better understand the transformation, when I would weave another piece. I wanted to know so that I could create with more intention and thoughtfulness. My eyes traveled back to the image of the white deer again, and I realized that even the materials were different from what I had started with. Overall, I could feel the hardiness and earthiness of the piece. It would be durable. It was rich in its tones. It could be passed forward for generations, it had come to me through generations.
When I woke from this dream, I didn't know what to think at first. But as the last few days have unfolded and I have watched my body move through this expressions of imbalance, I have more clarity.
These past few mornings actually - in the space of being sick, I have somehow found my way back to sitting with my altar quietly. I have gone through a few months of feeling fidgety and impatient, and slightly confused as to how 10 minutes suddenly began to seem burdensome. Now, in the space of my body demanding for me to slow down, I sit easily, lavishing in the connection. Feeling my soul in all of its edges and unrefined shapes and opening to the nourishment of that quiet space. This morning I was keenly aware of what I would refer to as the edges of my soul - the space of my deepest truths and knowings of who I am - alive and well - waiting to be given space to come forward. And I was aware of how different that space felt from that of my physical self which was riddled with a fever, sore throat, and tired to the trunk of my body.
Ah! There it was . . . the door opening to my understanding of the dream and of my body's current expression. The physical being that carries our souls through this world - our bodies - our altars. We decorate them with our clothing and haircuts. Shape them with our actions and the foods that we digest. Modify them with tattoos and piercings. And yet, no matter what we do, our physical selves move through the process of transformation inherent in the living - slowly moving towards its return to the earth. Our bodies serve as our altars - carrying our souls through this world. And it is how we attend to these altars that can help us to reach deeply into our soul - our heart - the generations of ancestors that come before us. And sometimes, those altars need to be wiped clean, rearranged, reorganized, to reflect our own shifts in the transformations of bringing the edges of our souls more deeply into immediate action and connection with the world around us. Sometimes it requires our bodies to be worn down to the edges, so that the path has less resistance. Sometimes it is the will of the universe for us to slow down from our modern life, so that our souls have more space and time to be filled, nourished, and to expand in our bodies and in the direction our lives are taking.
As in the dream - what I thought I was creating - was merely the outer layer to something much deeper, older, and wiser. And in the process of the weaving coming off the loom, the elegant patterns that I had created in the bright and fiery colors, receded to reveal something with far more sustenance and body. The altar found in sitting at the loom and weaving, combining shapes, colors, and patterns, was only the practice meant to open the doorway to the soul of the piece. What it was that was really meant to be alive and present in this world. What I was truly here to create and give birth to.
And so I realize as I ride these waves of fevers, headaches, and otherwise, that the food that I place into my body feeds and nourishes on a physical level, but truly is meant to reach into that deepest place within myself - to draw that essence out into the world. So the choices that I make need to match the vibration of that deeper self. Because the food, just as with the things that sit on my altar in real life, is the offering. The offering to the altar of my body. The offering to the divine spirit within and without.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
To Shed What No Longer Serves Me
To be better, to do better, to know better, to be more, to have more, to never make a mistake, to be everything to everyone. To fix yourself.
Reframe.
To be as you are. To do your best in any given moment. To learn from your experiences. To know that all you are is enough. To know that you have everything you need in this moment. To be curious when things turn out differently than what you had hoped. To know that nourishing yourself is necessary. To shed what no longer serves you.
Healing is not fixing something that is broken. Choosing to commit to a practice for 108 days is not about making yourself or your life better. It is about learning the gentle art of loving yourself, and shedding that which no longer serves you. It is the shedding process that allows you to let go of what is not integral to the core of who you are in this world. It is a process that allows your spirit to shine through to the world even more deeply. It is a process of liberation. It is an audacious act.
That is what I have been reminded of as I have cycling through my commitment again. Exploring the curiosity of why I am struggling to look in the mirror. While some of it, I have recognized, is an energetic imprint that comes hand in hand with choosing certain foods, I am recognizing that it is also the framing of the moment. If I look in the mirror and feel as though I am exploring food as medicine as a way to 'fix' myself, what I see is where my body is not perfect. Where I need to be better. On every level. But if I look in the mirror and reframe this process as shedding what no longer serves me - choosing foods that engage that shedding process, I recognize that my body is constantly in a state of flux and transformation, that I am empowered to support in each moment, and in each choice.
It is the mindset . . . or the framing that needs to be shed. Like the snake of the skin. So that I can arrive in this world in each moment, fully. Extracting every last bit of juice from each moment, and allowing my flesh and soul to sink into my life in this exact moment. Here in this moment, is what I have. Here in this moment, I choose to reframe. To shed what no longer serves me.
Reframe.
To be as you are. To do your best in any given moment. To learn from your experiences. To know that all you are is enough. To know that you have everything you need in this moment. To be curious when things turn out differently than what you had hoped. To know that nourishing yourself is necessary. To shed what no longer serves you.
Healing is not fixing something that is broken. Choosing to commit to a practice for 108 days is not about making yourself or your life better. It is about learning the gentle art of loving yourself, and shedding that which no longer serves you. It is the shedding process that allows you to let go of what is not integral to the core of who you are in this world. It is a process that allows your spirit to shine through to the world even more deeply. It is a process of liberation. It is an audacious act.
That is what I have been reminded of as I have cycling through my commitment again. Exploring the curiosity of why I am struggling to look in the mirror. While some of it, I have recognized, is an energetic imprint that comes hand in hand with choosing certain foods, I am recognizing that it is also the framing of the moment. If I look in the mirror and feel as though I am exploring food as medicine as a way to 'fix' myself, what I see is where my body is not perfect. Where I need to be better. On every level. But if I look in the mirror and reframe this process as shedding what no longer serves me - choosing foods that engage that shedding process, I recognize that my body is constantly in a state of flux and transformation, that I am empowered to support in each moment, and in each choice.
It is the mindset . . . or the framing that needs to be shed. Like the snake of the skin. So that I can arrive in this world in each moment, fully. Extracting every last bit of juice from each moment, and allowing my flesh and soul to sink into my life in this exact moment. Here in this moment, is what I have. Here in this moment, I choose to reframe. To shed what no longer serves me.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
To Be Sacred
It has been a curious week in the world of this 108 day commitment and in the space of holding myself as a sacred being in this journey. I have been riding the roller coaster of my best laid plans around food as medicine . . . and surrendering to what IS in my control and to the essence of my commitment.
I had made a 'plan' of what my 108 days would look like . . . and specifically what these days away from the comforts of my home and the usual routine of my life would be. And the 'plan' didn't fit the reality. But the essence of my commitment was still there. Food as medicine. Perhaps I wouldn't have the warm rice with almonds and kale that I had planned for . . . but I would have loads of fruit and plenty of water. Perhaps I wouldn't have the tasty chicken and root veggie soup that I had prepared . . . but I did have access to a beautiful lunch that filled my belly for the rest of the day. Maybe it wasn't all gluten-free AND dairy-free simultaneously . . . but I had the opportunity to really check in with my body to see what it was able to digest and what would not work. And maybe I didn't have my very favorite chocolate sweet potato pudding on hand . . . but the universe had provided a hotel that was willing to entertain my dietary restrictions for a sweet dessert at lunch.
The essence was food as medicine . . . the goal was to listen and learn . . . and I have learned. I could still drink the water I needed and had hoped to. And while my yoga and running routine did get blown out of the water for the first four days of this past week, I made a choice for where to stay based on the knowing that I absolutely needed to have space for these things - they are medicine to me - essential for the work I am engaging in. They were my compass to being realigned in the midst of the storm.
In the midst of this roller coaster, I became very aware of the moments when I wasn't holding myself as a sacred being. And strangely it wasn't my food choices that were highlighted. It was the moments when I realized that looking in the mirror at myself, had suddenly become a difficult task again. Where the old confines of what I thought I would see and what I didn't like about myself, were rising to the surface and pre-empting my capacity to see myself fully. My eyes were lowered, and there was a small sense of fear as to what I would witness if I looked in the mirror. Old stories. Old patterns. Old places where I didn't give myself love. Where I couldn't see how I was a part of this world - and deserving of the same love and respect that I so easily give to those around me, and to the natural world at large.
It has evoked curiosity within me. To listen more deeply to these stories that no longer serve me. To look for the spaces where I can expand a deeper sense of love for myself and for the perfection of my imperfections. And it has helped me to see a wrinkle in my path on the journey of what it is to be sacred. To honor and acknowledge that this life is a gift, and that who I am is what I have to share with the world.
So as I continue to walk this path, I will walk with more intention to look into the mirror daily and acknowledge that I am sacred. That food as medicine, movement, prayer, meditation . . . are all things being given as offerings to this altar found within. And that my movements and offerings to the world in the space of who I am, are the blessings to be fed.
I had made a 'plan' of what my 108 days would look like . . . and specifically what these days away from the comforts of my home and the usual routine of my life would be. And the 'plan' didn't fit the reality. But the essence of my commitment was still there. Food as medicine. Perhaps I wouldn't have the warm rice with almonds and kale that I had planned for . . . but I would have loads of fruit and plenty of water. Perhaps I wouldn't have the tasty chicken and root veggie soup that I had prepared . . . but I did have access to a beautiful lunch that filled my belly for the rest of the day. Maybe it wasn't all gluten-free AND dairy-free simultaneously . . . but I had the opportunity to really check in with my body to see what it was able to digest and what would not work. And maybe I didn't have my very favorite chocolate sweet potato pudding on hand . . . but the universe had provided a hotel that was willing to entertain my dietary restrictions for a sweet dessert at lunch.
The essence was food as medicine . . . the goal was to listen and learn . . . and I have learned. I could still drink the water I needed and had hoped to. And while my yoga and running routine did get blown out of the water for the first four days of this past week, I made a choice for where to stay based on the knowing that I absolutely needed to have space for these things - they are medicine to me - essential for the work I am engaging in. They were my compass to being realigned in the midst of the storm.
In the midst of this roller coaster, I became very aware of the moments when I wasn't holding myself as a sacred being. And strangely it wasn't my food choices that were highlighted. It was the moments when I realized that looking in the mirror at myself, had suddenly become a difficult task again. Where the old confines of what I thought I would see and what I didn't like about myself, were rising to the surface and pre-empting my capacity to see myself fully. My eyes were lowered, and there was a small sense of fear as to what I would witness if I looked in the mirror. Old stories. Old patterns. Old places where I didn't give myself love. Where I couldn't see how I was a part of this world - and deserving of the same love and respect that I so easily give to those around me, and to the natural world at large.
It has evoked curiosity within me. To listen more deeply to these stories that no longer serve me. To look for the spaces where I can expand a deeper sense of love for myself and for the perfection of my imperfections. And it has helped me to see a wrinkle in my path on the journey of what it is to be sacred. To honor and acknowledge that this life is a gift, and that who I am is what I have to share with the world.
So as I continue to walk this path, I will walk with more intention to look into the mirror daily and acknowledge that I am sacred. That food as medicine, movement, prayer, meditation . . . are all things being given as offerings to this altar found within. And that my movements and offerings to the world in the space of who I am, are the blessings to be fed.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
I Am Ready
On the cusp
of what you have known
and all that stands before you
In the space of the hands and hearts
that have held you with love and tenderness
At the intersection of your greatest tragedies
and deepest triumphs
In the moments of sublime bliss
Steeped in layers of melancholy and stagnation
Lies the courage of your heart
the seed that She has planted
for you
Tiny tendrils breaking their way free
digging and traversing in the soil of the Nile
suckling at the fertility of the darkness
drinking in the nourishment of divine
There comes a moment
when those tender tenuous roots
break through the ground
when those shoots and leaves find the light of day
There comes a moment
when the cool air strikes upon the fresh green life
And I wonder
in that moment
if there is hesitation at this new experience of life
Grief at growing towards the sun s
wishes to remain safely ensconced
in the darkness of the great earth mother's womb
Desire to be embraced only by what is known
even through the romance of what is yet to come
The rich breaths of this very moment
tickling the senses
filling the soul
I wonder if that plant spirit
hesitates
as I do
for one last second
Before breaking through into the light
stretching heaven-bound
in graceful lines and complete joy
I wonder if that plant spirit knows
that life is so very fragile
on the other side
that the winds may whip
the rains may swell
and that she will be asked to trust
in the strength of her roots
the knowingness of her heart
and the wisdom of Divine
to flow through her
Grow her
Grant her life in each moment
I ask myself this
as I stretch my hands and heart
towards the fire
as I sweep the soil from my shoulders
as I tenderly lift and sift my feet from the blackened soil
as I pause
and remember
from where I came
and to where I will return
with a finite number of breaths
between these moments
I pause
and give thanks
to all that has nurtured
all that has held
all that has strengthened
all that has swelled
to meet me in this moment
to release me towards the sun
to whisper their love
to lace my heart with their wisdom
You are ready
they say
I am ready
I know
And so I raise myself towards the sun
my feet walking prayers upon the womb from which I came
an umbilical cord to divine
always to be found within
(c) 2015 Melissa Rudder
of what you have known
and all that stands before you
In the space of the hands and hearts
that have held you with love and tenderness
At the intersection of your greatest tragedies
and deepest triumphs
In the moments of sublime bliss
Steeped in layers of melancholy and stagnation
Lies the courage of your heart
the seed that She has planted
for you
Tiny tendrils breaking their way free
digging and traversing in the soil of the Nile
suckling at the fertility of the darkness
drinking in the nourishment of divine
There comes a moment
when those tender tenuous roots
break through the ground
when those shoots and leaves find the light of day
There comes a moment
when the cool air strikes upon the fresh green life
And I wonder
in that moment
if there is hesitation at this new experience of life
Grief at growing towards the sun s
wishes to remain safely ensconced
in the darkness of the great earth mother's womb
Desire to be embraced only by what is known
even through the romance of what is yet to come
The rich breaths of this very moment
tickling the senses
filling the soul
I wonder if that plant spirit
hesitates
as I do
for one last second
Before breaking through into the light
stretching heaven-bound
in graceful lines and complete joy
I wonder if that plant spirit knows
that life is so very fragile
on the other side
that the winds may whip
the rains may swell
and that she will be asked to trust
in the strength of her roots
the knowingness of her heart
and the wisdom of Divine
to flow through her
Grow her
Grant her life in each moment
I ask myself this
as I stretch my hands and heart
towards the fire
as I sweep the soil from my shoulders
as I tenderly lift and sift my feet from the blackened soil
as I pause
and remember
from where I came
and to where I will return
with a finite number of breaths
between these moments
I pause
and give thanks
to all that has nurtured
all that has held
all that has strengthened
all that has swelled
to meet me in this moment
to release me towards the sun
to whisper their love
to lace my heart with their wisdom
You are ready
they say
I am ready
I know
And so I raise myself towards the sun
my feet walking prayers upon the womb from which I came
an umbilical cord to divine
always to be found within
(c) 2015 Melissa Rudder
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
I Am the Stop Sign
This is Day 2 of the 108 day cycle, and the first day had already shown me that my 'intention' needed to have some parameters around it in order for me to feel more grounded. So in responding to the larger group this morning, I clarified some of the things I would be doing to help keep me in alignment with my intention to explore food as medicine. So I will be doing yoga for 30 minutes each day, running 2x/week,
meditating/sitting with my altar for at least 10 minutes 2x/day,
drinking 80 oz water/day, and taking wheat and dairy out of my diet
again. All of those things help me to be more in alignment with the food
that I eat, and seem to encourage me to reach for foods closer to the
earth.
This morning I woke up with a particularly vivid dream, that struck me at my core for many areas of my life. In the dream I was with a group of people and I was sharing my process around what I had learned from an emotionally abusive relationship that I had been in. These were people that were also part of my graduate program and part of my work life. In the midst of what I was sharing, someone pointed to a stop sign in the room and said 'you are the stop sign'. And then another person and another person and another person all started to nod their head in agreement and murmured about how the conflict intervention residency I was about to attend was going to enhance that.
When I woke up from the dream, beyond the fact that I was panicked because I had fallen back to sleep after my alarm had sounded, I was puzzled by the dream. So as I prepared for my day, did yoga and meditation, made breakfast, and moved myself out the door, I pondered on what that meant to me.
I was the stop sign.
What has come up for me, is this sense that somehow in making the choices that I have made (and continue to make), I am breaking dysfunctional cycles in my life, and also dysfunctional cycles and patterns from generations within my family.
At first, that thought/awareness, felt silly . . . but when I sit quietly with it, I realize there is truth there. We are born into dynamics and patterns within our family. Those things are passed onto us energetically, emotionally, physically, and mentally . . . and each generation has an option to change, shift, shape, and mold that into something that is filled with light and love. And often in my journey of healing, growth, and self-reflection I have been aware that I was making conscious choices, step by step to shift these dynamics and patterns.
So here, in this 108 day cycle . . . I am making that conscious shift again. While I didn't at first attribute that to part of my process or intention, I recognize that is what we are all doing, really.
We are all stop signs.
This journey - this 108 days - is an opportunity to practice standing at the stop sign each and every day. To choose deliberately and consciously which direction we head. To shift lifetimes of patterns that need to be untied and woven together again. And it is in these small, mindful shifts, that we begin to change the world around us. Because we are changing the world within us. Micro to macro. Inner to outer. Me to you. You to us.
This morning I woke up with a particularly vivid dream, that struck me at my core for many areas of my life. In the dream I was with a group of people and I was sharing my process around what I had learned from an emotionally abusive relationship that I had been in. These were people that were also part of my graduate program and part of my work life. In the midst of what I was sharing, someone pointed to a stop sign in the room and said 'you are the stop sign'. And then another person and another person and another person all started to nod their head in agreement and murmured about how the conflict intervention residency I was about to attend was going to enhance that.
When I woke up from the dream, beyond the fact that I was panicked because I had fallen back to sleep after my alarm had sounded, I was puzzled by the dream. So as I prepared for my day, did yoga and meditation, made breakfast, and moved myself out the door, I pondered on what that meant to me.
I was the stop sign.
What has come up for me, is this sense that somehow in making the choices that I have made (and continue to make), I am breaking dysfunctional cycles in my life, and also dysfunctional cycles and patterns from generations within my family.
At first, that thought/awareness, felt silly . . . but when I sit quietly with it, I realize there is truth there. We are born into dynamics and patterns within our family. Those things are passed onto us energetically, emotionally, physically, and mentally . . . and each generation has an option to change, shift, shape, and mold that into something that is filled with light and love. And often in my journey of healing, growth, and self-reflection I have been aware that I was making conscious choices, step by step to shift these dynamics and patterns.
So here, in this 108 day cycle . . . I am making that conscious shift again. While I didn't at first attribute that to part of my process or intention, I recognize that is what we are all doing, really.
We are all stop signs.
This journey - this 108 days - is an opportunity to practice standing at the stop sign each and every day. To choose deliberately and consciously which direction we head. To shift lifetimes of patterns that need to be untied and woven together again. And it is in these small, mindful shifts, that we begin to change the world around us. Because we are changing the world within us. Micro to macro. Inner to outer. Me to you. You to us.
Friday, January 2, 2015
A Commitment to Nourishment
Food is medicine. And when there is something that ails me, first and foremost, I look to food to provide what I need for healing to occur. This has been a learned practice over the last 10 years of my life and has brought me through many cycles of healing, into a deep state of health and wellness.
Yet I still find myself reaching for the cookies when I am feeling melancholy. Seeking a piece of chocolate for a quick energy fix. Craving macaroni and cheese when I want to be comforted. The psychological roots of food are deep. And even though I have made tremendous shifts in my diet and have learned to listen deeply to what it is that my body needs, it doesn't always mean that I give it what is best.
I have the blessings of a full and abundant life - one that requires me to juggle the priorities of many things and people that I love. Beyond my propensity to leave my dishes on the sink for the night so that I can gain an extra twenty minutes of sleep, the space where it is easy for me to fall short, is the place of feeding myself the most deeply nourishing items available to sustain the rhythm of my life.
Most days, I fare well even when I falter, choosing a vegan sandwich from the local co-op for breakfast on a busy morning, or bone marrow broth and rice for a quick-fix dinner. Yet I see regularly how I fall into patterns around what I eat or perhaps forget to eat at all for the duration of a long and occasional day at home. This past May, I found myself with a set of health problems that were inflamed by the presence of wheat, dairy, eggs, and sugar in my diet. So for a period of months, I went through an intense initiation into the land of how to feed myself outside of the spectrum of what I was comfortable with or what was known. While I had experienced these sensitivities before, they had never caused the current alarming inflammatory reaction. So there was no choice except to commit to life without these foods, to give my body time and space to heal.
This experience sparked an incredible learning around the depths of what my body needed. In many ways, I had more energy and felt stronger than I had in years. And in being human, once the symptoms began to ease, I allowed the once restricted foods back to my diet on a more regular basis. I immediately noticed the difference in my digestion, mood, energy, and overall sense of wellness. I was intrigued.
So for this 108 day cycle I am committed to the exploration of what it is that I need in order to deeply nourish my sacred self. This will come in many forms - exploring new recipes, taking note of how certain foods make me feel, raising my awareness as to when I choose to eat for emotional reasons and releasing those patterns, choosing foods as close to the earth and as minimally processed as possible, engaging the world of spices in my cooking, and taking great care to prepare my own food regularly.
I am looking forward to this journey with my arms outstretched to the depths of what I will learn and to the places where I will be challenged and transformed.
Yet I still find myself reaching for the cookies when I am feeling melancholy. Seeking a piece of chocolate for a quick energy fix. Craving macaroni and cheese when I want to be comforted. The psychological roots of food are deep. And even though I have made tremendous shifts in my diet and have learned to listen deeply to what it is that my body needs, it doesn't always mean that I give it what is best.
I have the blessings of a full and abundant life - one that requires me to juggle the priorities of many things and people that I love. Beyond my propensity to leave my dishes on the sink for the night so that I can gain an extra twenty minutes of sleep, the space where it is easy for me to fall short, is the place of feeding myself the most deeply nourishing items available to sustain the rhythm of my life.
Most days, I fare well even when I falter, choosing a vegan sandwich from the local co-op for breakfast on a busy morning, or bone marrow broth and rice for a quick-fix dinner. Yet I see regularly how I fall into patterns around what I eat or perhaps forget to eat at all for the duration of a long and occasional day at home. This past May, I found myself with a set of health problems that were inflamed by the presence of wheat, dairy, eggs, and sugar in my diet. So for a period of months, I went through an intense initiation into the land of how to feed myself outside of the spectrum of what I was comfortable with or what was known. While I had experienced these sensitivities before, they had never caused the current alarming inflammatory reaction. So there was no choice except to commit to life without these foods, to give my body time and space to heal.
This experience sparked an incredible learning around the depths of what my body needed. In many ways, I had more energy and felt stronger than I had in years. And in being human, once the symptoms began to ease, I allowed the once restricted foods back to my diet on a more regular basis. I immediately noticed the difference in my digestion, mood, energy, and overall sense of wellness. I was intrigued.
So for this 108 day cycle I am committed to the exploration of what it is that I need in order to deeply nourish my sacred self. This will come in many forms - exploring new recipes, taking note of how certain foods make me feel, raising my awareness as to when I choose to eat for emotional reasons and releasing those patterns, choosing foods as close to the earth and as minimally processed as possible, engaging the world of spices in my cooking, and taking great care to prepare my own food regularly.
I am looking forward to this journey with my arms outstretched to the depths of what I will learn and to the places where I will be challenged and transformed.
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