Perfection and Perversion

I have a confession.  A confession of all confessions for it boldly stands in contradiction to what I thought my belief system was.  I’ve come to a place in life where I win the majority of battles against that which I must declare, but sometimes, on days like today where the victor seems unsure, I sneak upstairs alone to the refuge of my chair.  It is here, in my seat of surrender, where I allow my neurosis to seep out.  And as I sit and ponder, my thoughts gently slide under awareness into the dark seduction of an unquestioned mind.  This is dangerous territory to walk alone, and most certainly not to be explored unarmed.  

On the terrain of limiting thoughts, anxiety begins to rise as I curse the truth and vanity of it: I’m not perfect.  I’m not perfect, life isn’t easy, I’m not living up to my potential, I’m too intense, too different, I really won’t fulfill my dreams, but mostly I’m just upset that I can’t get things just right.  And that most certainly means I’m unlovable. 

I know, I know. Trust me. I know what you are thinking.  “Well, that is stupid.  Who the hell is?  Do ‘The Work’!  There is no such thing as perfect.  What does that even mean?  Get over yourself, girl.  Pull up your boots, slap yourself in the ass, and keep marching forward.”  

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are my thoughts too, on a good day.  On a bad day I feel unlovable, disgusting, and perverted.  Don’t ask me why imperfection means perversion in my mind, but on days like today, it does.  The shocking truth is that I’m not upset about the realization that I’m imperfect, that has been blatantly obvious to all for quite a while… I’m pissed that somewhere deep down I believe I ought to be.  Gross.

So, instead of challenging my thoughts, I wallowed in it.  I didn’t take the higher road.  I ate dark chocolate from Godiva, a variety of mystery selections from my beloved Indian joint and had a play date with my good friend Chip and his gal, Salsa.  I indulged in white wine and totally blew off yoga to veg on the couch with The Wall.  I gave the finger to my yoga challenge and chalked it up to no one cares anyway.

That was yesterday.  Today, that no one who cares is me.  I care.  I care that I believed those things about myself and I care that I set myself up for failure.  I thought the thoughts that sabotage, and I chose to believe them.  I ate things that were not a part of my challenge, I chose things that didn’t make me feel good, I didn’t show up to yoga, and I told myself no one cares.  For all of the negative beliefs that were running around in my mind I found past evidence to prove them all true.  Once I found the proof that I really am imperfect and unlovable I drove the point home by demonstrating the behavior again.

But here is the thing.  That was yesterday and I have the tools.  I know what to do.  So, this time I’m continuing the challenge in its blemished perfection.  My two day excursion from the guidelines has NOT turned into a week long bender.  Or even worse, I haven’t thrown my hands up completely.  For me, this is a huge step forward.  I’m taking down the poles that pitch my pity party tent by finding proof that I can, proof where I am strong, evidence to show that I am capable of consistency and flexibility.  This challenge is about completing something to the best of my ability and sometimes the best that I have to offer comes with mistakes along the way.  But, I am learning from them, I am evolving my relationship with myself, and I am fully living this experience.  Now, that is perfection I can stand up for.

Dancing Twoolahs and First Dates

The tales of my life, painted beautifully upon the canvas of Middle America, have the underlying theme titled: Scale Woes. Or, perhaps a more accurate depiction would be: Fuck the Scale. I remember each phase of my life as a size; a vivid memory of portion control… which portion of my booty was fitting into my jeans. All major events come to pass would be remembered in numbers and all numbers would determine the outcome of the event. Low weight and body fat percentages meant high times. High weight and body fat results led to low times, canceled play dates, and forced solitude. I was the weighted hermit or the social-light.

I can still bring to mind the curve of the numbers and the way the red lights lit up the scale that day, the day of my first date with the high school dream. The guy every girl dreamed about dating and the boy all other guys wanted to be. He was three years older with golden hair, bronzed skin, piercing blue eyes, the body to fit the all American athlete he was, and the guy who was way, waaaay out of my league. I remember noticing him, noticing me.

As I caught his gaze shock began to spread throughout my body and I realized that I must have done something wrong. Was there something on my shirt… on my face? As a self admitted klutz, I’m forever spilling on myself or falling and scoring yet another set of grass stains on my already marked clothing. Grace was not endowed upon birth. In fact, it was blatantly missing. How I received rhythm but was missing coordination is just a cruel joke. But as I glanced back, he was still watching, and with a grin and a raise of his eyebrow, I knew. He was interested. And I was having an anxiety attack.

It was the night of our high school play where I was proudly performing the dueling dancing hooker in The Unsinkable Molly Brown. It must have been the tasteful flashing of my twoolahs around the stage that sealed the deal, for that night he asked me out. Me. Three years younger, with braces and without boobs.

The birds began to chirp, the orchestra was leaning into crescendo, and fireworks exploded in the background as I whispered “yes, yes I will go out with you.” In my hussy getup I floated backstage to await my next rump shaking scene in a daze.

In this moment a shutter click took place and my pubescent fairytale set in stone an ideal, yet unrealistic weight that served as the benchmark of my self worth for the next ten years.

Age: 14
Weight: 125

As Above, So Below

 My relationship with food illustrates what is taught to us throughout so many spiritual texts in different form: As above so below; as within so without.  What I crave is always representation of what is going on in my inner world.  If I am ungrounded, lost in turmoil, or have given my mind control I am driven to eat dead (processed) junk that mirrors back to me how I am feeling internally.  In contrast, when my internal world is filled with love, light, and peace I’m naturally attracted to the same vibration in my food.  High greens, lots of juice, vegetables, and fruit become my drug of choice in order to maintain my natural high and ecstasy is found in these water filled foods that radiate life force energy.

Because I made a commitment to show up to yoga everyday I am forced to remain present and conscious with my dietary decisions.  My main question that I use when I approach food is, “how is this going to make me feel?”  It is wretched to try and stretch my way through class when it is 105 degrees when I have the weight of Satan in my belly.  It is awful to have heartburn from undigested gruel and impossible with even the hint of a hangover.  So, I don’t engage in these things.  And it has been easy.  The surprising thing is that I have struggled with moderation in all of these areas in the past (food and booze) and it was never ‘easy’. This challenge I set an intention with absolute commitment, detached and let go.  And this time, something amazing has started to unfold.

Me vs. The Whine

 

To date, my relationship with exercise has existed on mental terrain and today was an epic battle: Me vs. The Whine.  My inner dialogue is filled with a plethora of reasons on why I should skip yoga, why I can’t make it all the way thru class, why I should sit out a pose, or why I don’t really need to exercise today. 

I knew that excuses would arise and I have practiced for them; there would be times that my body would ache, that I would feel bone tired, emotionally drained, and apathetic to my goal. That I wouldn’t want to show up, think about not going since no one else would be the wiser, or flirt with chalking it up to a dramatic wistful whim.  Yes, I knew this moment would come and I would go to class anyway. 

As we began our first flowing posture this evening my self doubt was deafening while I started searching for my exit strategy.  I felt weak, exhausted, and angry.  My shoulders burned and I thought there was no way in hell I could take another 55 minutes. I questioned the challenge.  I hated the teacher.  I cursed myself.  And I began to buy into the idea that I would never be able to achieve anything that I set my mind to.  Sweet Lord, what did I get myself into and why in the world did I post it on a blog?

I acknowledged the thoughts and sent focus to my breath.  Just Breathe.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Breathe in, move into the pose, breathe out into the posture and deepen.  Breath in new energy, breathe out that which doesn’t serve me.  Breathe in and begin to flow, breathe out and let it go.  Breathe in.  Breathe out. Just Breathe, breathe, breathe…

The class came to an end and while lying in a resting pose I began to weep.  I made it thru the session and it wasn’t as hard as my excuses.  I had come to the end and it wasn’t as wrenching as my self doubt.  How many times do I count myself out because I’m terrified of failure?  How many times have I quit when things get hard? 

I found more strength tonight than I knew I carried.  I loosened the mantra of can’t and gave energy to faith and gentle discipline.  Tonight I stretched the boundaries of who I am and breathed life into the person I want to become.  Tonight, was a good night.

This Ain't No Rosey Posey Day

I hate the slowness of beginnings.  I like being thrown into the middle of things where you either sink or swim.  It is too easy to wade out of waters that you tiptoed into and the dangers rest in the shallows where the crocodiles lie. 

I would love for all of my posts to highlight a rosey posey day but the reality was that I was filled with pissing rage.  I find it interesting that as I was fasting over the past two days the main emotion that has been coming up for me is anger.   So, instead of choosing fury, it was off to work I went on disassociating from my energy body.  Moving into ‘The Watcher’ I began to observe the following process:

Feelings (physical sensations) –> Thoughts –> Emotions –> Actions –> World
 (More to be written on this later)            

As I was lying in a restful position during yoga, I had the physical sensation of waves moving through my body, rolling like thunder.  I knew if I went into this feeling and labeled it as anger it would grow and consume me.  While anger can be a step up in vibration over apathy it doesn’t help in a yoga class where you can’t power your way thru a posture.  So, instead of turning the wrath inward or spewing it out on the yogi next to me, both of which crossed my mind, I remained present with the sensation and only observed how it felt in my body.  I asked: “Where is it located?”  “What rhythm does it have?”  “What color is it?”  And without judgment, I observed.

I find that when I drop the label of the emotion that I am feeling, and focus only on the physical sensations, I am able to surrender and allow the energy to flow thru my body instead of resisting it.  I had spent the past two days trying to contain my darkness thru judging and defending instead of observing and allowing.  The moment I removed the name is the moment that I allowed the lower vibrations to fluidly release.  My postures deepened, my breathing became more expansive, my mind was peaceful, and I went home to enjoy a meal.

Lacking the Proper Pomp and Drama-stance

I feel it in my bones.  A phase of my life is coming to an end and with it there is a gentle lying down of old behaviors that no longer serve me.  With this knowing, I offer closure to what was thru practiced discipline. 

I chose 09/09/09 as the official start date for my yoga challenge.  The symbolism of the number 9 affirms what I have been intuitively feeling and ties sweetly into this lunar ride (x2).  It is a spiritual symbol that asks for patience, meditation and in many cultures represents completion.

The majority of my new endeavors begin with the proper pomp and drama-stance. Yet, today, I feel more subdued and reflective.  In honor of this rhythm I have only partaken in vegetable juice and tea.

Cucumber, Rainbow Chard, Red Pepper, Tomato
Beet, Lemon, Ginger, Kale, Spirilina, Stevia
Carrot
Green Tea
Kombucha

YOGA: Hot Power Fusion

60 Day Hot Yoga and Raw Food Challenge

It was the fall of ’06 and I had fallen in love with the Hot Yoga studio in downtown Nashville.  Granted, I had only been to a handful of classes before I professed my adoration, but it was a slice of heaven each time.  I emerged from my mat deliciously wrung out and mentally tranquil.  I was smitten, and in honor of my new found love, I thought a 60 day challenge was just the way to show my dedication.  But, this idea alone didn’t get my blood flowing quite enough.  I needed something a little more… daring.  I wanted to go from a beer drinking, junk food eating, sloth loving vegetarian to a disciplined yogi and raw foodist, overnight.

 So, I marched my microwave out the front door with the sign “WORKS for FREE” on it, signed up for two months of unlimited hot yoga, and bought myself some sprouts and nuts to nosh on.

 One week in I posted the following blog:

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Old Zaadz Blog – The Challenge

August 27. 2006

Moderation is not key to my success… although it might have a case for my sanity.  I am underway with a 60 day Hot Yoga and Raw Food challenge.  Introduced and encouraged by yours truly, my alter ego.  There are many personalities in this single package trying to pull it off; typical Gemini.  Wish me luck sweet souls as I need all the encouragement you can muster.  I am in need of purification and the sins of sugar and spice are calling my name. 

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I didn’t last long and I most certainly did not practice effective goal setting but it was the precipice of my living foods journey and even though I bombed out on this specific challenge it has pitched a tent and camped out in the corner of my mind ever since. 

 Over the course of the past three years I have been an on again, off again, raw foodist who sporadically attends hot yoga at whim.  There was a good year where I was completely raw, with the occasional slip up, but my nutritional discipline has faded away since moving up North to live with ‘The Wall’.  In addition to not eating as healthy as I once did I have completely let habitual exercise fall away from life.  I notice the difference.  A lot.

 Jack LaLanne states that, “exercise is King and nutrition is Queen.”  In my experience one cannot reign without the other.  So, I am ready to try this challenge again.  However, this time I come prepared:

 Current State:

• Diet: 70-80% raw food and 20%+ cooked vegan
• Current Exercise: 2x/wk Yoga
• Countless hours spent researching raw foods/nutrition
• Experience with raw recipes
• Own: juicer, blender, dehydrator, food processor

 The Driving Intention:

• I am moving toward the synergy created when diet and exercise is combined
• Glowing health
• Discipline
• Clear mind
• Radiant energy
• Higher vibration
• Healthier relationship with food
• Long and lean body
• Release resistance

 Challenge Boundaries:

• 60 days
• 100% Raw Food
• At minimum 1 Hour of Yoga a Day
  • Preferably, hot yoga…  however, if my schedule doesn’t allow then one hour of a different session will suffice
  • In the event I miss a session I will double up the following day

Big Picture Goals that this Lunar Ride Supports:

• Become a Yogi
• Do yoga everyday for a year
• Follow a 100% raw food diet
• Weigh 140