In laughter, there is only the present moment.
Tonight, I remembered that my feet are allies. Every time I notice that they are there, holding me up, touching the ground, whatever mess I’m in seems a little bit more bearable.
I think it’s fascinating to map where your body stores its experiences.
Have been hovering near a cold since Sunday, but not actually toppling over the edge. All this laughing is good for the immune system.
Yesterday, I got an idea.
Self, I said to me, you should laugh every day. For a year.
Good idea, I said to myself. Let me think about it.
No, don’t think about it, myself said to me. You’ll be thinking forever. It’s perfect. Just do it.
And that made me laugh.
So here we go.
Today was my first day of following Dr. Terry Wahl’s dictum to eat nine cups of veggies. Here’s how I got them in:
Breakfast: two eggs, one cup of coconut oil roasted broccoli, one cup of cherry tomatoes, a quarter cup of parsley for garnish, half an avocado, and blue cheese for yum
Snack: a handful of cashews, coffee with cream
Lunch: three cups of salad greens, two cups of coconut oil roasted broccoli, a can of tuna, half an avocado, goat feta for delightfulness, and chili sauce to bring the flava
Snack: one cup of blackberries, Christmas chocolate, unsweetened green tea soda
Dinner: one cup of coconut oil roasted red cabbage, bacon, two cups of tomatoes, and a potato
Final tally: eleven cups of veggie goodness! and a partridge in a pear tree!
Verdict: totally doable, totally delicious.
Now that my brain is cooperating with me, I can’t help but think of all the ways I can make this work. Three cups of kale dehydrated into scrumptious kale chips will not be a chore to eat. Three cups of spinach is a few tiny mouthfuls when cooked. Roasted broccoli and I are getting married. Three cups of carrots and celery is just a glass full when juiced. This is possible. I like it.
Before I started studying to become a nutritionist, I had this food thing down. Sure, there were details here and there that I wanted to clarify, but basically, I knew the right way to eat.
After I started studying nutrition, I realized that I have no bloody idea. I have an awful lot more information about food and nutrients and ethics and locality and methodology, but when it comes to what’s actually going in my mouth, all that knowledge is actually kind of paralyzing.
I think it’s a common predicament for people who are interested in improving their health. Before they start on their journey toward better health, they are blissfully (or willfully) ignorant. They eat what they like. They eat what they’ve always eaten. Every once in a while, they might read something or hear something on the news about the latest and greatest superfood, but for the most part, their food philosophy stays cozily unexamined. I’ve met these people (they’re weird).
Once they start trying to change their eating, however, the floodgates open. All of a sudden, it’s not “Should I have a sandwich or a salad for lunch?”, it’s “Should I eat whole grains, or should I go paleo? Is sugar the devil, or will the food gods pardon this raw organic fair trade agave? What about goji berries? Should I eat this delicious salad my mother has prepared for me, even though the tomato is not organic and is probably grown by migrant worker babies who live in slums and is fertilized with the tears of endangered seals?”
Cue me in a corner, curled up in a ball singing show tunes about cookies.
Or just cue the cookies.
Since I’ve got kind of a complicated relationship with food, anxiety or stress surrounding food is likely to result in defaulting to autopilot (actually, any stress will do it, but stress about food is especially troublesome). In this case, autopilot may be defined as crap, and lots of it. And crap-land is where I’ve made my residence for the past year.
It’s the reason I’m having such a hard time getting excited about becoming a nutritionist. How can I be a nutritionist, when I am overweight, when I am tired, when I am willfully shoveling into my body exactly the kind of garbage that yo momma warned you not to be seen with?
The (hypothetical) good side to this predicament is that when it comes to bad eating habits, I am pretty much un-shockable. So all you ate this week was McDonalds and Christmas chocolates from the office kitchen? Okay, moving on. So the only green thing in your fridge is the unidentified contents of the tupperware container in the corner of the bottom shelf? Been there. Yesterday. Empathy I have in spades.
I get how hard it is to make changes, because it’s hard for me too.
Since it’s almost the new year, there have been lots of posts on my RSS about resolutions. I read this one by Penelope Trunk the other day, and it reminded me of what I know already–permanent change has to be simple, and it has to be easy. By easy, I don’t mean that it won’t involve a lot of work. I mean that when you think about the change that you’re proposing to yourself, your brain (and your body) should go “YES!”
I really like her suggestion of breaking resolutions down into their tiniest parts, and committing to only one of those parts. Her example was with going to the gym–instead of resolving to work out for an hour a day, commit to going to the gym and sitting in the parking lot for an hour a day. The task itself is incidental. What’s important is movement in the direction of the task, setting up the pieces, showing up. The more resistance, the tinier the commitment.
I did this exercise the other day with a bunch of habits that I’d like to change. What I found in every case was that my resistance had nothing to do with the task itself. For instance, I’d like to build a daily yoga practice, despite having done no yoga in months. When I started breaking this down into smaller pieces, I found that one of the reasons I say no to yoga every morning is that I’m not comfortable with the room that I’m supposed to be doing it in. Another reason is that I don’t like feeling rushed in the morning, and forcing myself to do yoga when I’m running late is stressful.
So instead of resolving to do yoga every morning, I’m resolving to make a list of room renovations and to take steps toward improving my sleep. I’m excited about these resolutions–I really want to do them, I have all the tools and information that I need to be successful in my efforts, and I am not overwhelmed by the thought of completing them. That means they’re good.
It’s kind of a step down the rabbit hole, I guess. I started with yoga and ended up with chalkboard paint. But I know I’m headed in the right direction because the paralysis is gone.
Back to food.
Yesterday, my blogroll of goodness and genius gave me a present in the form of this TED talk by Dr. Terry Wahls. Faced with rapidly accelerating symptoms of multiple sclerosis, she used her medical knowledge to create a nutritional regimen to address her body’s needs. She went from being immobile to, well, walking around a stage giving a TED talk in less than a year. Wow.
Besides the inspiration, what I gleaned from her talk was a brilliant suggestion: Eat three cups of dark greens, three cups of sulphurous vegetables, and three cups of colourful produce every day. So simple. So smart.
As soon as I heard her say this, something clicked in my head. Instead of arguing with myself about the minutiae of dietary theory, I should just eat some vegetables. And once I’ve eaten nine cups of vegetables, if I happen to want a cookie (or three), that. is. okay.
It reminded me of something that I learned in school–before you tell someone to take something out of their diet, put something in first. This makes so much sense.
So that’s my resolution. Not for the new year, but for now. I’m committing to the three cups of greens and the three cups of sulphurous vegetables every day, with some wiggle room for the coloured stuff till I get the hang of it.
There’s nothing to argue about, no grand debate. Dear self, just shut up and eat your broccoli.
Today I am feeling rather smug about my rain pants. Not smug in an exclusionary, I-have-rain-pants-and-you-don’t kind of way. More like smug in a generally congratulatory fashion. I have rain paints. You have rain pants. We have rain pants. Hooray.
My rain pants are blue, gigantic enough to contain all the things that could possibly go under them, and so far (bated breath), extremely water proof.
Seriously, I’m not sure how I managed to bike for three years in Rain City without rain pants. Was I trying to be mean to myself? Maybe I didn’t see myself as the kind of person who could think for the future, who could anticipate hypothetical rough seas and make provisions. Rain pants always seemed expensive, out of reach.
No longer, chickens. These legs are high and dry. If on your morning commute, you happen to zoom past a
slightly sweaty girl with a strange grin on her face, now you know why she’s smiling.
It’s 1:03am, Saturday morning, two days before my twenty eighth birthday. I spent the day at home watching tv on the internet and eating chocolate chips. It hasn’t been a good year.
So I’m lying in bed, my heart tripping on a sugar high, thinking about what I need to do to change my life. There’s that nagging voice in my head, telling me that all I need to do to find happiness is to accept myself as I am. Then there’s that other voice saying bullshit–you need a big idea. You need to do something.
I used to be the kind of person who did things, I think. Or maybe I’m being nostalgic and rosy past tense. But anyway, this isn’t working. Something has to change. It’s hard to know where to start. Nothing is in order–not my body, not my mind, not my spirit, certainly not my apartment.
My apartment. Something tangible. A very obvious problem with a fairly obvious solution. Time to clean up some shit. That’s not really a metaphor (also, a gigantic black spider just crawled across my sight-line, so I’m not sleeping any time soon).
So here’s my big idea. It is within my power to change my living space, and this is how I should do it. Without being ridiculously minimalistic, I need to reduce the number of things in my possession (or at least, my sightline). If I have access to less stuff, I will make less mess. Less mess, more happiness. Or something.
I’m not a big fan of melodramatic gestures. Or rather, I love them, but they’re useless for producing real change. Then again, sometimes you just have to jump in.
Someone pass the garbage can.
I’ve just started a new blog for my fellow nutritionists-in-training to post recipes, how-to’s, and research. Everything will be tagged by nutrients and benefits, so it should make a pretty useful resource. All the recipes will be tested by experts! Of course, there’s not much there now, but soon it will be chock-full of deliciousness. Check it out here.
I did something. Several somethings. I feel better.
So, I’m procrastinating. My means of procrastinating? Reading on the internets about ways to stop procrastinating. Yes, I am a genius. Hit me now.
As much as I am completely unwilling to do anything right now, the internets did have some useful things to say. Particularly this, from the genius pirate Havi–most of us are immune to our own superpowers most of the time.
That’s why I’m procrastinating. Because I’m studying holistic nutrition, ostensibly so that I can help other people be healthy, and yet my dinner consisted of cheese and a jar of marmalade. Yes, the whole thing.
This isn’t passive resistance. This is out-and-out assault. This is taking a class on mindful eating, then picking up fast food on the way home. This is instructing others on the home crafts with my nose in the air, while refusing to enter my kitchen cuz it’s got fruit flies and no clean dishes and I’m kind of worried it’s going to eat me. This is staying up till four in the morning watching bad tv. This is calling in sick because I can’t think of a reason to get out of bed. This is not good.
The thing is, I don’t want to help anybody else right now. Never really did. I just want to help myself. What I want to do is stop.
No more teachers, no more books, no more experts’ dirty looks.
Sorry, Mr. Expert-Pants.
The more I read, the more I learn, the more I hear a voice in my head urging strongly, You already know what to do. I just don’t want to do it.
I don’t want to face this stuff.
I know that I can face it. Or at least, I have before.
But I really, really, really don’t want to.
I am going to try to accept that. What I need in the interim are some better strategies for not doing things. Eating shit and watching crap tv and sitting on my bed till my hips hurt are bad strategies. Because if I’m going to be procrastinating, why not at least waste the time doing something I like?
I’m not sure if I like anything right now.
But when I think of something, I’ll do it.