After 3 years, 6 months, and 30 minutes of effort, yesterday I lost ~180 lbs. I got divorced at last. I was sky-high in freedom yesterday.
I’m reviewing the dog-eared pages of East of Eden after finally having read the Steinbeck novel I bought at least ten years ago. I marked this in chapter 21, part 3,
Some people think it’s an insult to the glory of their sickness to get well. But the time poultice is no respecter of glories. Everyone gets well if he waits around.
About three and a half years ago I wrote this, Life’s Best Poultice.
After court, paying homage to my lesser demons (alcohol, cheeseburger, custard, nicotine), and taking a gluttony-induced walk through a local labyrinth I landed a few yards behind a well-looking couple with their child. They were good-humored, fit, and groomed and a while after following behind them I realized that I had not felt the pain of longing for that family style.
My monkey-mind was instead sizing up her fit body and adding lines to the endless dramatic book of body-image and self-shaming to which I’ve historically been accustomed.
…There is a time for every thing. I will wait around and continue to be healed.
The thought came over and over like a waterfall over rocks; tumbling and tumbling, churning the pool below into foam, I gotta sit with this. I gotta sit with this. Like saying jump while standing at the edge of a cliff. Like saying let go before you go down with the ship. She knew the emotion was at its most raw and she knew she would have to feel it one way or another. No time like the present. The gift of now is presence. All manner of algorithms and encouragements found her and helped her to be seated before her last remaining set of cards–a barely viewed deck of Sacred Geometry. She dove in, shuffling, thinking clarity, guidance, grounding. Clarity, guidance grounding, in the same rhythm she had when first learning to run. Cadence. Rhythm. Comfort. She flipped the deck over and pulled the card on top. She cut the deck and pulled the card on top. One card was stuck with so she used that as well.
The energy of Communication makes you aware that you are able to communicate with your body, thus understanding its signals and solving its discomforts. This energy brings your body and your spirit in deeper contact with each other.
The energy of Confirmation tells us that our consciousness is developing rapidly. Everything we think is actually confirmed. If we think or live based on fear, this fear will indeed be confirmed. Develop your power of thought and create what you really want. Then, your wishes will be confirmed.
The energy of Enlightenment helps you realize that you are a being of light. You are the personification of strength and divinity.
She chuckled at the mirror the cards always held. She thought, I have a bad feeling about this, after reading the first card and was humbled and bowed before the second and third.
The cards, the divine, always asking patience of us. Always urging us to use our bodies and minds for the love that made us. Always reminding us that it could be worse. I want to carry the knowledge and strength of the divine within me like life-long church/temple goers. I want to remind myself that gawd and God alone knows the plan. I want, like Ida Mae Brandon Gladney, in The Warmth of Other Suns, who escaped the Mississippi plantation cotton fields and survived the hard cold isolation of Chicago for Black People, to know that “I don’t know no better than God.” I want to be so forgiving and so sure. I want to love and stand strong in the face of whatever hardship may come. I want to love and stand strong in the embrace of whatever grace may come. And I don’t want to suffer fools while doing it.
On Saturday night my car did a very inconvenient thing. It died just after I left the house for a date with a seriously beneficial person. Undeterred I grabbed my bag and walked the four or five blocks home. I made sure my car was dead in a legal overnight spot and grabbed the keys to my mom’s van. Onward.
resulting in good
While making the drive to the date I preached to myself. I have been ignoring my intuition in the area of finances. My intuition has been correct, but I have not liked what it has been saying. Instead I’ve been begging the universe for more time or for mercy. Looks like time ran out! Some deep cuts, as the politicians say, will have to be made; some tough choices. The sermon I gave myself was about all that and more deeply about disallowing myself to feed Pippi Snotstockings.
Pippi Snotstockings is the name that was given to the part of me that is all about instant gratification, selfishness and petulance. She is the one who ignores car repair expenses while allowing holistic healthcare expenses. She is the one who blurts out whatever is on her mind while pretending that words don’t linger. She can be fun, but is more often damaging, especially in the long run.
So I recognized the issue, owned it and came up with a solution. Every time I hear the voice in my head that says “I don’t wanna….” I’m going to say to it (her) “I don’t care.”
“I don’t care that you don’t want to go to the gym. I don’t care that you don’t want to wait. I don’t care that you want something right now that you can’t afford. In the long run what you get now will not add to the long term health or freedom of this family I’m raising.”
On the heels of this very grown up and certain-to-be-challenging sermon came an idea. The idea is based on the fact that I am a writer not writing. I’m not writing for myriad perfectly good excuses. Despite the tidy effectiveness of the excuses they are not helpful or healthy to my growth. I want to add “I don’t wanna write” to my list of things Pippi is no longer in charge of. I don’t have time, it’s true. My life is extremely demanding on me, it’s true. My resources are limited, it’s true, but so what? It’s never going to be a good time to become a better writer and every day I let pass without writing takes what practice I have given it away from me. My ability to construct sentences and stories diminishes. My knowledge of grammar diminishes. All of it. Couldn’t I write just a little every day? Even if I write a post about doing things I didn’t want to do, even if no one but me reads it, at least I’m here getting better. At least I’m here using the gift I ask for the most in my life.
They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds. – Mexican Proverb
Several weekends ago we drove to Bainbridge Island and I took some photos of early spring flowers. While doing this I found some trash. The trash turned out to be an embroidered butterfly sachet. Litter fairy, I found thee.
Life in the country is not what I imagined before moving out here. That is entirely because my imagination was new love blinded and lacking realistic detail while I was imagining it. Frankly, I imagined laying face down in the dirt next to last night’s smoldering fire. So…what? I ask myself now. How long did you think that was going to be fun? Continue reading
Admittedly, I don’t know that I made anything yesterday. We had a lazy and indulgent winter weekend. We ate out a couple of times. We did not order salads. Probably what I made on Sunday were resolutions.
On Monday what I made was food and good karma.