Hello, Sunshine.

about overeating french fries…

“…To make a meditation out of [eating] and eat them consciously without having a secondary entity in your head that says you shouldn’t be eating them. Eat them fully and consciously, and at the same time feel how your body feels while you eat them and after you’ve eaten them. Then you bring some presence into it, and you may realize in some cases that the body doesn’t actually want to eat them. It was the mind that wanted to eat the potato.” –Eckhart Tolle, Week 3 of Oprah’s A New Earth web class

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Everyone knows beauty magazines don’t promote a healthy body image. I wanted to look closer though….Inspired by glossed over, I decided to really look at the images presented to millions of women everyday. This months pick: January 2008 issue of Marie Claire.

7: Number of nude or implied nude images of women

18: Number of photos featured in the 101 outfit idea section

1: Article journaling the impossibility of not having sex for 30 days (who had this idea? really…)

57: Number of “smart beauty buys” i.e. items conveyed as not being advertisements, even though they are

0: Number of plus-sized models (or real people)

2: articles addressing addiction to cosmetic procedures

1: ad for breast implants

44 total models or staff members featured

41 White

1 Asian

1 Black (Halle Berry)

1 Hispanic (Salma Hayek)

More diversity among the REAL people featured…

(note: I use the term “other” only to distinguish that I didn’t want to presume the race of one model, and that she is not white or black)

So what can we conclude here? Just the obvious.

1) Overwhelming majority of white people featured in ads, models in articles, and second highest among the “real people.”

2) Especially among the models in articles, there was hardly even a runner up. It’s unbelievable that major celebrities would be the only people of color featured in all of the articles.

3) There are many mostly nude images of women

4) All of the women are thin

5) This magazine is not depicting anything close to the real world.

6) While not reading magazines is probably the best solution, someday I hope to see diversity on the pages, in the articles, in the ads. People with real non-airbrushed bodies, of every shape and size. Articles about actual issues, not promoting the notion of plastic surgery. Reality, or at least something like it.

We could ignore the images bombarding us constantly, but sometimes, if you look closer, the true absurdity can be the revealed.

(Please contact me if you would like to use these graphs for other purposes)

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The other day I had a moment.

I’ve had a building sensation since I turned 20 that life was on fast forward and I was on the wrong route. It was unsettling, and I felt powerless. I like what I am doing in my life, but it never seemed like “enough.” It seemed like the week went by so fast I hardly had a moment to notice… anything. At night I thought, “One more day gone forever.” (Unhappy, right?)

Then the moment.

In a sleepless moment, lying in bed, I realized it was one more day I had the privelege to experience. It was one more day I got to enjoy. And the next morning, I thought, “Today is one more day I get to love. To do my best.” And there was a shift. A total shift. Suddenly I felt in control again, and a huge surge of gratitude for each day that I get to have.

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I had a fleeting moment at the grocery store when I left with two nylon sacks and a back pack filled with yummy stuff, feeling very good that I was successfully not using plastic bags. I look at the people around me, all toting their massive bags constructed of plastic, and I feel a moment of disgust. Yes, disgust. Then my mind slaps me on the side reminding me to WAKE UP. Yes it’s awesome I use my own bags much of the time. Yes it would be awesome if everyone else did too. No I am not smarter/superior or a better human being than anyone else because I make that choice. It’s funny too because just several months ago I was an environmentally concerned citizen who got plastic bags at the store. I hadn’t found reusable bags that I liked enough and I liked being able to reuse the plastic. Ah how the wiser and more environmental me would have raked old me over the eco-friendly coals…

I’ve noticed similar feelings when I read a really empowering book or discover a really feel-good way of eating. Suddenly I look around and feel like the way we all live is blasphemous and I must embark on a mission to save us all from our crazy ways and share my new information! And while this enthusiasm and inspiration can be very useful and insightful for those who are interested, it is not my job to change how other people live their lives. Nor am I a “better” person because I make certain choices in how I live my life. I make my choices because they bring me joy, and for no other reason. It’s easy when discovering such things as exciting as environmentalism to latch onto it as part of your identity. And in a way, it IS part of who I am. But what it represents is the part of me that is genuinely concerned both with my own integrity and with a sense of caring about others — which includes all of the animals, trees, our oceans, and future generations.

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One thing I took away from reading Eat Pray Love is a consciousness to fulfill my needs and desires. To seek pleasure in my day to day life and to cherish it and nurture it. Perhaps waking up early and cuddling in the covers with a book instead of jumping out of bed with stress. Or going for a walk when it’s sunny and warm, even though I have a lot of things to do.

Today I’m totally feeling the need for goodness. All I want to do is put on some warm sweatpants and hide in my awesome bed with some tea. I want to watch high quality television and talk to my (hilarious) sister on the phone and laugh. I want to take a hot bath and then put on warm pajamas and eat vegetable soup. I want chocolate and only really nice people. I want comfort.

My nerves are still raw from allowing my body to elevate to such levels of [insane] stress. I want to take care of myself and to rest. To not think. To not worry. I strive to find the balance with nurturing myself in what I need and want, and also getting school work/life work accomplished. I certainly don’t wish that I didn’t have school. Cuddling in bed doesn’t feel nearly as indulgent and fantastic if it doesn’t come after a busy day of productivity. And I’m madly in love with chemistry and everything else I’m studying. I just desire a balance and rhythm to the madness. (I am finding one…I just want it all worked out now!)

Regardless of if my life is in perfect balance, I can savor even the smallest moments to be good to myself, to feel the sun on my face, taste my food, and to melt into the covers each night with a silent “thank you” for my day.

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Several months ago I was visiting with a friend and her boyfriend, let’s call them Jack and Jill. I’ve been friends with Jill for a long time, and am still just getting to know Jack, who seems like a great guy. While there I had one of those moments — a moment where I could either stick to my beliefs no matter what, or keep my mouth shut for risk of putting a big foot in my mouth.

We were all talking, as I was happily munching away on a little take away container from Whole Foods. When I was done I went to throw it away so I asked Jack where his recycling bin was. Jill giggled and said, “Oh, he doesn’t have one.”

Now we live in a very progressive area where they’ll practically pick it up from your kitchen if you ask nicely, so recycling isn’t a difficult thing to do. I was really surprised, so I asked why.

“Too much of a hassle,” he said.

My mind stopped. Too - much - of - a - hassle. I tried to wrap my brain around those words. To take a bin and put your plastic in it is hardly what I consider a hassle. And then my mind starts to get into — how selfish can you possibly be? But I stop. I weigh my options.

1) I argue and yell, “You crazy fool don’t you know our planet is warming steadily because people like you are so damn self-centered you can’t even clean up your own waste here i’ll start a recycling pile for you” and then pick all the plastic out of his trash while ranting about the polar bears. And…subsequently turn a very pleasant evening into an awkward one

or 2) let it go.

I go with the latter and say “Oh okay,” putting my rinsed container into my purse so I can recycle it when I get home.

It just makes me think sometimes about when to say something and when to be quiet. Where to just let others do their thing and for me to do mine. Having some sort of mental superiority because I do my best to live consciously isn’t a supportive place to dwell. I guess I just wish that people care more sometimes. Care about their health, their planet, their happiness, and those around them. AND I know that the place where I can be most supportive to others is just by doing my thing and leading by example.

…But there are still moments where I want to scream and shout and kick over someone’s trash can because, well, they’re being ridiculous. (grin)

(Please note: I don’t begrudge Jack for not recycling. That’s his choice and I am fully over it. It was just the perfect example for when to speak up and when to not.)

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I’ve been posting less because school just started up again. I’m glad to be back (I’m one of those people who like school!) and it’s all overwhelming at the same time. I’ve been confronted with an old issue that I really thought I had eliminated from my life. Fear I am not good enough. Or, as it translates into my academic life, fear that I am not smart enough to succeed in math. It’s a funny fear you know, because it’s not true. At some point back in the day I got the notion that I was bad at math. And that belief has stuck with me for many years, causing agony as I struggled though countless math courses. In reality, I had a few bad teachers, close to non-existent study habits, and such a profound belief that I couldn’t do math that it was almost impossible for me to focus on assignments. I had moments of loving math, of feeling like I could do anything, but they were fleeting — only lasting until something else proved I couldn’t do math.

So I got to college and had really forgotten about my feelings about math. I needed to take it so I started in a pre-calc class.. and royally freaked out. I hadn’t looked at a number in close to three years and the material was moving far too fast for me. I bombed the first test (confirming my belief I suck at math) and dropped the course. I needed to pass it though, so I took it this summer. I had a good teacher and was in a small class. I set myself up for success as much as physically possible, I did my homework, studied, went to office hours, asked questions, etc. And as part of that I had several minor anxiety attacks and one long crying session. …and I got a higher-than average score on the first test. How could that be? I’m supposed to suck at math. My confidence boosted. I continued my assignments, and started to have fun with it.

Second test = second highest score in the class.

Then it really got weird. I started to enjoy my homework and the class. I started to love math. what? me? but you suck at math?

and at the end of the summer, I had a fantastic grade and a love of math. Ah-ha I have proven I am not bad at math! I have won! I have conquered my fear.

So a new quarter and new schedule, I walk into calc one feeling pretty good because I know I am ready and that I can do it. I encounter a class of “intimidating” students (freshmen who took AP calculus!), a really nice professor, and one group worksheet with a topic i have never seen before in my life. and I freak out. I should switch to another class. I’m going to fail! oh my god. my grade in pre-calc must have been a fluke! I’m going to be eaten alive. I can’t do this.

Tonight I had a talk with a close friend and she said quite poignantly, “When are you going to give that up?” there is nothing behind this but fear. the facts only predict that I will in fact be sucessful this class (it’s calculus one, not rocket science). and it’s not bigger than I am. not math. not my fears.

it keeps coming up over and over, the universe is begging me to just handle it already. And, starting today, right now, I know that I am good at math.

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They say eating disorders are about control.

Through my journey with this stuff, I would have argued at the time that it was about control a little, but really wanting to look good and feel good about myself.

Recently I was referred to a Mind Body Centering practitioner. The work is really subtle, mostly getting in touch with your issues through the body and breath. My first two sessions were really revealing, and I saw for the first time my intense need to control everything in my effort to be “perfect.” Over time this need for perfection and continual feelings of failure just led to stress and anxiety. I noticed that on this current little vacation, as I would be doing absolutely nothing, just reading, making food, watching movies, my body would be in a state of near panic. i.e. shallow breaths, tightness in my chest and shoulders, and negative thoughts.

It has been a revelation because for the first time I see my “disordered eating” as a mere symptom of feeling that I needed to be unrealistically perfect. Different from who I am in a way that doesn’t exit.

I am now on a quest of relaxing. Being. Breathing. Loving. Finding joy.

Knowing that where ever I am is okay.

(Image: Breathe by Susann Harper)

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While writing about The 11th Hour, the thing I am really present to in this moment is how much time I have wasted in mourning and upset about my weight and physical appearance, that could have been spent doing much more productive things. I don’t regret it, because it was the process I needed to go through to learn about myself and to grow up in many ways.

At the same time though, as I was watching this movie about how we’re all going to perish if we don’t change our action, I just wanted to be like: who am I to be so selfish and worried about going up a pants size when there is tragedy, famine, destruction, war, and pain all over the world. There are so many things I could be using my mind and resources to accomplish. My little mind’s response would probably retort, “But I am in pain too!” To which I could only concur because it is the truth, though obviously dull in comparison to the pain other people experience on a daily basis.

While part of me wants to scream at myself and many women, “JUST GET OVER IT!” I know it’s not that simple. I believe that empowering women and working through our collective body image issues is very important for the fate of the Earth, because the more powerful women we have, the more will get done! So this is a reminder, and a call to action to all of the incredibly powerful women who are upset and consumed with their bodies. Lord knows I have been there and fall back there some days. I feel that it’s time we start taking action to support others than ourselves despite whatever is occuring in our own minds. Besides, the more one does for others, the more joy and peace will come to them.

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In choosing topics to write about, I have noticed a difficulty in finding my voice. I have been doing a lot of research these past few days, pouring over many amazing blogs where the writers have clear distinct views and opinions, each with their own unique voice. I find in my life that I lean towards neutral — I can easily have get along with the most conservative and the most liberal, always being honest, but always catering to the crowd.

It’s hard to be a people pleaser and write anything interesting. As I have been exploring this, it’s about a lot more than blogging. It’s more of an, “Oh my god, why am I so afraid of what people might think if I fully used my voice?” I feel like a lot of people I know share this complex, with similar gray fence-sitting opinions.

The issue is not a lack-of-voice in my life, it’s the fear of using it. Wow where does that come from. Next step in living my empowered life: use my voice as much as possible, with no fear or doubt of what others might think.

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