Yesterday I posted a picture on my facebook page of my most recent love--a 2010 Chevy Tahoe--a deep red with dark gray interior. Generally the vehicles that get my pulse racing are not SUVs, but hey, this one is su-weet, and I am a truck lover by nature; and the Tahoe, despite its appearance, is just a truck.
What was not so sweet was the picture of me standing next to it. I have been loathe to let anyone photograph me, a phenomenon that increasingly reminds me of how much like my mother I am beginning to look, and how she too would avoid cameras for the same reason I am now doing--because of my weight. It doesn't help that my thin, young, beautiful daughter is in the picture and I find myself with a clearer picture of how my mother might have felt 35 years ago when I was Jasmine's age, and my mother was the same age I am now--or close enough. It's tempting to blame genetics or the environment in which I was raised, or any number of things I cited in an earlier post with a similar title, but I won't do that.
What I will do is whatever is necessary to improve both my health and appearance. It shocks me to see this photo, not just because of my weight but also for the fact that I find myself second guessing my decision to let my hair go "au naturel"--another genetic propensity I have for being "prematurely" gray. In a youth obsessed culture, it seems rather bold and defiant to sport white hair (and it is white!) What also seems bold and defiant is a decision to mix it up with a little punk color--something I intend to do before I leave for a visit with my family in Michigan and Wisconsin next month. I'm thinking a color to match that Tahoe would be awesome.
And so it is rather fun to think of my head as a canvas for a palette of color. If age and experience give me nothing else they have given me a sense of not caring too much about what people think of me, still the fact that this photograph unnerves me is telling. And so, I apologize to myself for letting my self-esteem suffer because of snapshot taken in a moment when I forgot my appearance and reflected my joy over an automobile. I apologize to myself for a brief lapse of letting myself believe that a two-dimensional image could even begin to reflect the multi-dimensional human being that I am. I apologize to God for even the slightest disdain for the marvelous workings of even the mechanisms of biology that made me store fat, and grow once jet black hair that is now nearly pure white.
I think this is a great metaphor for my life. Black absorbs all light, reflecting nothing back; white reflects all. When young I was like a sponge, learning and absorbing and taking within my mind, heart and soul, whatever the world would offer. As my hair lost its pigmentation (it began in my early twenties) I felt as if I was losing my identity and perhaps in desiring to hold onto myself I made myself larger to compensate. Now it seems all that knowledge, wisdom and experience is something I wish to give back to the world, with it too the shedding of the excess protection I built around a fragile self that could be so easily bruised by this same world.
In the movie "The Ten Commandments" Moses goes up the mountain with a headful of brown hair, and descends with a crown of white. I have always loved that image, and certainly it is a metaphorical statement of the wisdom of those with hoary heads (but not all are wise!)
Still, like the scars we obtain on the battlefield of life, we are shaped and colored (or uncolored) by our experiences. As we age we can continue to grasp and cling to the objects, the beliefs, the identities that once formed us, or we can let go. But not just let go in some resigned way, but intentionally give back what has been given us with joy. Still, if fate and finances conspire to make that Tahoe mine, I'm gonna hold on baby, and ROCK IT, just like I do this amazing hair!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
The wisdom of demented flies
Above the coffee table in my living room, a solitary common house fly traces ellipses in the air. He (she) has done this for several days now, frequently and briefly knocked off course by the comings and goings of the people and animals who live with me. There is something oddly comforting in this sometimes erratic circling and something profoundly meditative. This evening I sat and watched for a half hour as patterns of circles and ovals emerged, mesmerized that they most often repeated in a figure eight.
Last night this lonely one briefly tangled with another of its species, but that one seems to have disappeared, as did the large moth attracted to the television's light. Moving as it does, as if searching for something; missing, it appears, its sense of direction. As its insect brain seems to have lost its instinct to eat and reproduce it waits only to die. Still I wonder why it would choose (if a fly indeed chooses anything) to spend its last days circling above my coffee table. Yesterday a part of me was tempted to shorten this final stage but tonight its tenuous hold on life seems rather precious and sacred as I mourn the far more precious and sacred life of my friend, Phyllis Ramirez.
It is oddly comforting to watch the movement of this tiny creature, who when it finally falls to the earth it has come from, will be noticed by the One who created it. If sparrows, then why not common house flies? It occurs to me that in this miniscule organism is all the wisdom of the universe or at least that portion of wisdom that creates both flies and the air that bears them on their little wings. Why else does this creature, with his dying energy, trace the symbolic ellipse of infinity?
Last night this lonely one briefly tangled with another of its species, but that one seems to have disappeared, as did the large moth attracted to the television's light. Moving as it does, as if searching for something; missing, it appears, its sense of direction. As its insect brain seems to have lost its instinct to eat and reproduce it waits only to die. Still I wonder why it would choose (if a fly indeed chooses anything) to spend its last days circling above my coffee table. Yesterday a part of me was tempted to shorten this final stage but tonight its tenuous hold on life seems rather precious and sacred as I mourn the far more precious and sacred life of my friend, Phyllis Ramirez.
It is oddly comforting to watch the movement of this tiny creature, who when it finally falls to the earth it has come from, will be noticed by the One who created it. If sparrows, then why not common house flies? It occurs to me that in this miniscule organism is all the wisdom of the universe or at least that portion of wisdom that creates both flies and the air that bears them on their little wings. Why else does this creature, with his dying energy, trace the symbolic ellipse of infinity?
Mea Culpa
For all my fans who have eagerly awaited my daily posts, I apologize for neglecting this important work for four days. No excuses, but certainly it is not for lack of topics on which to write. This morning while on the treadmill--which I have learned to love in this summer of much rain--I was thinking of my friend and pastor, Fr. Fred, who recently had surgery on his ankle. I think he has been in pain with this thing for quite a few years, and after battling with his insurance company, finally got the surgery he needed. I believe they fused his ankle bones in some way, which sounds like the short term with this could be quite challenging, but ultimately will give him relief and will enable him to walk longer distances and be able to stand for longer periods of time. I honestly don't know, but my prayers are with him for healing.
My ankles are fine, they are beautiful, they work well, and honestly, while I sometimes have hip pain, back pain, knee pain, my ankles are miracuously pain free. I intend to keep them that way, which is why I was on the treadmill this morning.
For what seems like an eternity I have struggled with excess weight. It seemed to begin with my first pregnancy where I gained 50 pounds and lost about 40 of that until my next pregnancy, where I only gained 40 pounds, but lost 30, and you can see where this is going.... My "baby" is 14 years old but my weight has actually increased over the course of her lifetime. What is miraculous is that I am still relatively fit, able to walk comfortably at a 4mph pace, lift light weights repeatedly without pain, and do at least a few crunches. Okay, it's a beginning, one I have made too many times to count.
As I stated when I began this blog, my intention was to seek leanness of body, and I have begun that in earnest again. Going public with this is a bit scary, but not too, as I don't think anyone is reading these posts anyway. Still, if you think I am going to post my "beginning" weight, you're out of your mind, because numbers are just that. They carry no real "weight" however they can become huge stumbling blocks in an attempt to become healthy. At this point in my life, health is more of an issue, not because I have any real health challenges (although I would not know it since I haven't been to a doctor in 13 years--no health insurance) but precisely because I don't want any.
Back to the treadmill...I am so grateful to have a body that has served me so well for 52+ years, a body that bore and nourished 5 amazingly healthy children from their conception to well into their second year of life. I have a few stretch marks, 3 Cesarean scars across my lower abdomen and all the strange things that appear as the years pass. This is all so miraculous and amazing that I often wonder why I couldn't keep this in mind as I was eating what I did not really desire, when what I desired could not be ascertained quickly enough to prevent that.
It is fashionable in this country where half the adult population (and the kids too increasingly) are overweight or obese, to blame fast food, fast paced lifestyles, anything but ourselves. We go after the demons of agri-business, the purveyors of tasty and fat-laden fare, our eating companions, our unhappy lives, our genetics, our cave man propensity for feasting and famine, anything but ourselves. Or worse, if we do go after ourselves we do it with such deep self-loathing that we mire ourselves in hopelessness and despair.
ENOUGH! Maybe this is a word those of us who struggle with weight or any overindulgence issue should tattoo in our brains, repeat it as mantra, engrave it on the hands of our God so that when we seek Him we will see that all that we have been given is ENOUGH! Perhaps the trouble is that we do not seek Him nearly as often as we should when the temptation to abuse these bodies He has so graciously given to us. The why of that is perhaps the most elusive thing, especially for one who believes to the depths of my soul that the only true satisfaction in life is loving well, and loving well first and foremost the One who IS love. I am tempted to say it is a certain lack of faith that keeps me believing this is all too trivial for the immensity of God, but ironically, just as I was about to write that, my ipod began playing "Faith Like a Child" by Jars of Clay (the live version where the audience sings that line!)
Amazing!
I began a novel a few years ago with this elusive search for peace with food as its main topic. I intend to continue, and when I appear on the Colbert Report--significantly thinner than I am today--to promote it you will all wish you had read my blog!
My ankles are fine, they are beautiful, they work well, and honestly, while I sometimes have hip pain, back pain, knee pain, my ankles are miracuously pain free. I intend to keep them that way, which is why I was on the treadmill this morning.
For what seems like an eternity I have struggled with excess weight. It seemed to begin with my first pregnancy where I gained 50 pounds and lost about 40 of that until my next pregnancy, where I only gained 40 pounds, but lost 30, and you can see where this is going.... My "baby" is 14 years old but my weight has actually increased over the course of her lifetime. What is miraculous is that I am still relatively fit, able to walk comfortably at a 4mph pace, lift light weights repeatedly without pain, and do at least a few crunches. Okay, it's a beginning, one I have made too many times to count.
As I stated when I began this blog, my intention was to seek leanness of body, and I have begun that in earnest again. Going public with this is a bit scary, but not too, as I don't think anyone is reading these posts anyway. Still, if you think I am going to post my "beginning" weight, you're out of your mind, because numbers are just that. They carry no real "weight" however they can become huge stumbling blocks in an attempt to become healthy. At this point in my life, health is more of an issue, not because I have any real health challenges (although I would not know it since I haven't been to a doctor in 13 years--no health insurance) but precisely because I don't want any.
Back to the treadmill...I am so grateful to have a body that has served me so well for 52+ years, a body that bore and nourished 5 amazingly healthy children from their conception to well into their second year of life. I have a few stretch marks, 3 Cesarean scars across my lower abdomen and all the strange things that appear as the years pass. This is all so miraculous and amazing that I often wonder why I couldn't keep this in mind as I was eating what I did not really desire, when what I desired could not be ascertained quickly enough to prevent that.
It is fashionable in this country where half the adult population (and the kids too increasingly) are overweight or obese, to blame fast food, fast paced lifestyles, anything but ourselves. We go after the demons of agri-business, the purveyors of tasty and fat-laden fare, our eating companions, our unhappy lives, our genetics, our cave man propensity for feasting and famine, anything but ourselves. Or worse, if we do go after ourselves we do it with such deep self-loathing that we mire ourselves in hopelessness and despair.
ENOUGH! Maybe this is a word those of us who struggle with weight or any overindulgence issue should tattoo in our brains, repeat it as mantra, engrave it on the hands of our God so that when we seek Him we will see that all that we have been given is ENOUGH! Perhaps the trouble is that we do not seek Him nearly as often as we should when the temptation to abuse these bodies He has so graciously given to us. The why of that is perhaps the most elusive thing, especially for one who believes to the depths of my soul that the only true satisfaction in life is loving well, and loving well first and foremost the One who IS love. I am tempted to say it is a certain lack of faith that keeps me believing this is all too trivial for the immensity of God, but ironically, just as I was about to write that, my ipod began playing "Faith Like a Child" by Jars of Clay (the live version where the audience sings that line!)
Amazing!
I began a novel a few years ago with this elusive search for peace with food as its main topic. I intend to continue, and when I appear on the Colbert Report--significantly thinner than I am today--to promote it you will all wish you had read my blog!
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