The Body Spirit Connection

"I will feed you things that nourish your creativity.  I will feed you really healthy things, but they'll be delicious, so I hope you won't mind too much." I'm at a writer's workshop at Whidbey Island, and that's what the chef said to us as we started the week.

She's done just that-- beautiful displays of food that is mostly locally grown, and whole.  Nothing is processed. A lot of things I've never heard of, but have been surprised at how wonderful they taste. Things I would've never eaten on my own.

I've been thinking a lot about what she said about foods that nourish creativity.  I'm not sure what that means exactly. I've read in other places that too much sugar can dull creativity, because it increases dopamine levels, which in turn acts as a numbing agent.  It's that "food coma" effect we all sort of know. Here's an article if you're interested: http://www.livestrong.com/article/551717-the-diet-exercise-and-creativity-connection/  Julia Cameron, who wrote The Artist's Way and The Write Diet, suggests that food can become a distraction to our creativity. She says, "Food is a seditive. We use it to block our feelings of discomfort. We use it to block our feelings, period. Rather than buckle down and accomplish the difficult piece of work that looms just ahead, we scoop up a snack and tell ourselves it can wait until tomorrow." 

I'm not sure how much of this is food related, but I do feel clearer and more articulate. I wake up with words, and a powerful need to write-- which though I love words, is not something I've felt in a long time. I have dreams that speak powerfully. Perhaps it is as much the environment.  Perhaps its the quiet or time set aside to just write, but I wonder if a little bit of it has to do with the food. I wonder if maybe not the specific food I've been eating, but the way I've been eating, is functioning as a seditive or creative blocker.

I've been thinking about going Paleo anyway-- trying to get over this blasted hump of a plateau.  But now I'm thinking more about it, maybe in a different way. These last few days, my skin somehow looks better (or maybe the lighting here is bad?) and I feel better. I feel more aware of my body, and less sluggish.  I guess this is silly, but I feel somehow more whole and connected?  If I do, in fact, want to write, I need to adopt a lifestyle that will help me do that, but not at the expense of my other fitness and life goals.  I'm going to talk to He-who-trains when I get back and see what he thinks.  Will I still be able to lift and run if I adopt this lifestyle? Will I have enough energy and be able to take in enough protein? Even if Paleo isn't right for me, maybe I can find a way to incorporate more whole foods into my life. 

How much does intake foodwise affect outgo productivity wise? I'm curious to see what comes out of this experiment. 

Worship with your Whole Body

When I was in Africa, I learned what it was like to worship with my whole body--clapping and dancing and singing and praying.  I would go home sore and exhausted, but having worshipped in a very lovely sort of way.  And as a seminarian who was questioning everything and stressed out to the point of breaking, I also Found God in Spandex as I trained for a triathlon. (I think that was my first published piece.) So the idea made perfect sense to me when I read a colleague's blog "Worship in Running Shoes".  The idea was to find a way to worship as she was running. Her playlist rocks (and definitely jazzed up my itunes account.) Then a fellow RevGal undertook the challenge here.  Her playlist rocks too.

So, it's been a hard day for a lot of reasons and I'm supposed to be doing 1,000 things but just really want to clear my head with a run, so this seems like the next best thing.  You know, procrastination helps relieve stress.

Here's the gauntlet that was thrown by Shelli (who was linked above.)

  Heads up, though; all of these songs are secular, or Christian-y (Christian-ish?). What I'm saying is if you're looking for the WOW Worship running mix, this is not for you. But I think as Christians we should be intentional about identifying the sacred in what might not be overtly called "godly". My criteria is pretty simple: (1) You have to be able to run to it. (2) It has to have the capacity to point you to God, even if you have to be a little creative. (3) No references to pimpin', guns, or anything that may sound like making out with Jesus (Ewwww, yuck, no! This is not the place to come for your Jesus is my Boyfriend fix.) You'll have to put your imaginations into it, and your hearts . . . and your feet, but here goes . . . - 

Alright, here's my whole body worship. (Side note-- my running, worshipping colleagues are much more hip than I am.  Painful realization: I listen to music that is both old and slow--but sometimes that's how my running feels.)

Prelude—We didn’t start the Fire—Billy Joel

Call to Worship—There is a Meeting Here Tonight  Cantus

Confession Sin Wagon

Assurance of Pardon Closer to FIne

 Prayer for Illumination—Walking on Sunshine

Word

Born to Fly

Learning to Fly-- Petty

Graceland—Paul Simon

Ants Marching—Dave Matthews

Don’t Stop Believing-- Journey

Affirmation of Faith  How Sweet it is to be Loved by You—James Taylor

Prayers—Prayin for Daylight—Rascall Flatts

Offering – Fight Like a Girl -- Bombshel

Benediction  Send Me on My Way—Rusted Root

The "Don't Be Stupid" Plan

I want the world. I want the whole world. I want to lock it all up in my pocket. It's my bar of chocolate. Give it to me now. (Verucca Salt, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory)

If I ever have to pick another trainer, I'm picking one who is not also my friend, one that I look in the eyes and say "I did everything you said.  I have no idea why I blew out my knees." I'd pick one I could lie to.  When he-who-trains gave me more specific instructions on running (don't pick up the pace, don't do hills, don't decrease your recovery time or increase your total time, don't go above 60-70% of what you can do, do keep it easy, etc) I'm sure he already knew that I was going to fight him on it. Before I could get in many argumentative words, he (rightfully) said "That's what you always do.  You feel good for five minutes and then you want to do as much as you can as hard as you can. You do it when you've been sick too. You only think of right now.  But your goal is to be healthy." I didn't tell him that I've pretty much already broken all of those things or that I was planning on doing a 5k in the fall, but that was pre-getting busted, so we'll just chalk that up to momentary, overexcited brain cramp.

I have a life's-short-so-make-it-count philosophy. When I'm committed to something (though that part doesn't always happen quickly), I want it done yesterday.  Radical short haircut. Painting the bedroom walls. Buying a new car.  Or, you know. Losing 90 lbs. Running a marathon.

I'm still fighting this stress induced/wacky hormones plateau, and maybe it's making me lose my brain. I'm getting so frustrated, that it wouldn't take much for me to get stupid. (Or maybe I already have?) I am always fighting the need for harder and more... and maybe a little bit of go until you have nothing left. I've regressed to the point where I'm having a hard time listening to my body.  I don't want to rest or heal. I'm back to scowling when He-who-trains tells me to take it easy. (Which is maybe why I have a nagging shoulder thing. I spent two weeks scowling instead of resting.)

But what is it I really want? Is it as "simple" as being in a lovely 135lb body? Is it as common as being able to wear the clothes I want to wear? No, it isn't.  What I want is bigger than that.  I want to be feel fantastic.  I want to be free to do what my heart wants to do without any lip from my body. I want to be healthy and strong through all my life stages.

So today was supposed to be a running day.  And I'm only "supposed" to get two a week.   And I was looking forward to it.  But my body said "Don't. Nuhuh. Sit your behind down and quit gettin on my last nerve." (And He-who-trains gave me The Look. Twice.)  I did some catching up for work. I've got on cozy pjs and will quickly fall asleep to Grays Anatomy on Netflix.  Even though I've made the commitment before and broken it, I'm gonna try again.  Long term health, not short term fun.  I'm signing back up for the "Don't Be Stupid" plan.

Booyah!

When I started working with He-who-trains, I made a hard promise. I would give up running for 8 weeks so that I could strengthen my legs enough that my knees didn't hurt.  That was 10 months ago. We made a deal--he'd be my trainer, but I wanted him to train me to be a runner.  

And I've been putting in my gym time.  I didn't much want to lift, but after some convincing, I began to like it.  I've smiled at how "the people" at the gym have become "my people."  But I've still wanted to run.  Until today, He-who-trains has had a no running decree--and has made enough (joking?) threats that I didn't push it.  I nagged, begged, whined, and made puppy dog eyes, and he finally gave his blessing...er, at least stopped making threats against my well-being.

Of course, he gave specific instructions.  One lap walking, one lap running for an hour or until my knee started hurting. Five miles later, I say Boo-yah! It wasn't fast or pretty, but boo-yah nonetheless. I'm not naive enough to believe that I'll suddenly become a runner and have no more problems.  I know I'm going to have to take it slow.  And ice, lots of ice.  And might as well buy stock in glucosamine and advil, but that's ok. 

I'm itching to run right now.   To be tired in that way, that somehow different from weight-lifting tired.  To have the time alone to not think-- because running for me is sort of like playing pool-- it demands enough of me that I can't think about other things. I won't give up my gym time, as I don't want to degrade the muscle I've worked hard to build, but this is a nice addition.  I'm pretty sure that my pace tonight disqualifies my time as a "run", but that's ok too.  I can start with a jalk.

At the four mile mark, when I was feeling really good, the Indigo Girls came on my ipod. They sang "Closer to Fine", and my head and heart joined them.  For tonight, anyway, that's my song. 

Kim 1, Knees 0.  Booyah! 

Remember who you are...

He-who-trains once told me about getting up from Christmas dinner (after eating everything he wanted, apparently including a good sized bit of pineapple upside down cake) and going to the gym for two hours. My initial reaction was "Why in the world would you do that? That's just ridiculous. What's wrong with you?" But what he said has stuck with me.  "I needed to remind myself who I was, and what I was about."

Today I understood. My afternoon tasks went long, and I was rushed and overwhelmed.  I didn't have time for my usual pre-workout routine.  And I'm stressed about a writing deadline that looms. (Which, of course, explains why I'm blogging.) Everything told me that today was a "Well, the world just got the best of me but I'll do better tomorrow" sort of day. It wouldn't have been the end of the world if I missed one workout, but coupled with the other one workouts I've missed lately, I realized I was starting a nasty habit.  So I slammed a protein shake, threw on gym clothes and ran out the door before I could change my mind, and rationalize more butt sitting. It was actually a good workout, but even if it wasn't, it was the best thing I could've done today.  It cleared out some of the stuff weighing on my brain which enabled me to be a little more productive.  It gave me a few minutes with "my people" where I could laugh and cut up and be a person away from the church. But more than that, I reminded myself who I was and what I was about.

I've been guilty of forgetting lately. If I let myself forget enough, I'll quickly turn into the apathetic person I once was. That person was 90 lbs overweight, too tired to do anything, plagued by asthma and bad knees, and had a crappy sense of self-esteem.

But I am not that person any more, so it's worth remembering who I am.

I am not someone whose priorities will be set by a nagging to-do list.  I am not someone who will let self care slide so that I can be more or do more.  I am someone whose health matters. I am someone who has goals and will achieve them.

Too much of nothing

"Too much of nothing
Can make a man a liar,
It can cause one man to sleep on nails
It can cause others to eat fire.
Ev'rybody's doin' somethin',
I heard it in a dream,
But when there's too much of nothing,
It just makes a fella mean." (Bob Dylan)

What is there to say when nothing happens? I've not lost a pound in five months. (Ok, to be fair, I am shrinking.  I wear size M shirts for the first time in probably a decade. People are noticing.  A dimple that I never knew I had is showing up when I smile just the right way. But the scale is resolutely refusing to move.) Frustrated doesn't even come close to describing it.  And any honest way of describing how I feel wouldn't be appropriate to write here. He-who-trains has tried what feels like bajillions of things to make my body snap out of this.  But there is an ugly truth that neither of us really wants to accept.

I'm stressed out.  And yeah, I got the Cortisol-is-nasty-business lecture several months ago. I did the research to see how it really affects the body. He-who-trains warned me that I may not be able to lose weight until I get the stress under control. But what I don't know is what to do about it.  Work stress isn't going away in the forseeable future.  I've been burning the candle at both ends lately, because I'm spending so much time putting out fires that I can't get my job done.  Nevermind that I'm on a writing deadline (though thankfully, that deadline is fast approaching, so at least that stress will clear off soon.) 

But here's my part in this.  My own commitment to self care is waning the last few weeks.  Due to sickness, and busyness that has gotten out of control, I've missed more workouts than I've made the last two weeks.  I've eaten later than I should, and not as well as I could have. I've not had a true day off in weeks.  

And my attitude is crap.  People tell me I look great, and I immediately say something about being stuck. Thoughts of "it doesn't seem to matter what I do, so I might as well eat what I want" are actually getting room in my head. I managed to resist the pizza we had at church the other night, but it was a genuine struggle for the first time in months. The truth is that at least some part of me has begun to doubt that I can do this. (The other part of me wants to eat mass quantities of Oreos.) And at some point, that must become a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

I said some words to my session the other night that have stepped on my toes all week. I said, "You want better than this, so choose better.  Make it better."  I want better than whiny and doubtful. I want better than sick and always keyed up.  I want better than this body. I want better than to feel like I'm being conquered instead of doing the conquering.  But if I want better, then I have to be committed to making it better.  I have to put on my big girl pants and grow up and handle my stuff. 

I feel like Scarlett O'Hara as she angrily faced a hopeless past and decided that she was done being the victim.  She shook her fist at the sky and said, "With God as my witness, I shall never go hungry again."  And she took the steps that made that true. 

I can't eliminate the stress yet, but I can learn how to handle it.  I can't make my body stop throwing a temper tantrum, but I can fix my attitude on the situation.

What's Saving Your Life?

Well, since fellow RevGal  (and generally awesome sort) MaryAnn McKibben Dana threw out the question, and since I've been thinking a lot about it anyway, and also because I've been needing (I mean, seriously, needing) to write something (anything, really), I thought this would be a good exercise.

Preacher and writer Barbara Brown Taylor often poses the question, "What's saving your life right now?" It's an open-ended question, leaving room for both the mundane and the big. It's been a hellish few weeks (months?) in lots of ways, but in some other ways, surprisingly affirming and grace-filled.  It's been an eyes-wide-open time, and a just-hunker-down-and-do-the-best-you-can time.  It's simultaneously been exhausting and refreshing. And it's been a time where I'm sort of acutely aware that I'm being held, and that things both beyond and bigger than me are saving my life.

In no particular order, here are my life preservers.

Writing I've not been blogging, but I have been writing. Not big or impressive things, but I'm reflecting on life these days. I'm writing something every day.  And I'm finding that my creativity is beginning to flow again.  (The Artist's Way has been pretty helpful at various places, and I'm picking that back up again.  Additionally, the author has written another book that I'm digging right now, The Write Diet, but that's a post for another day.) Writing is both discipline and gift for me right now.  A looming workshop sponsored by the Collegeville Institute is giving me a project about which to think.

Short, Sassy Hair Seriously. In the heat of summer, it's awesome. But more than that, I feel like a slightly sleeker, classier, less frizzy version of myself. It's forcing me to get up and to actually make the effort to fix my hair-- a new thing for this former step-out-of-the-shower-and-go curly girl.  And once I've made that effort, it seems silly not to make the effort on the rest of me.  I'm dressing better, and look a little more like a professional and a little less like a muppet. And oddly, I stand up straighter.

Strong Women I've been gifted, especially lately, with a lot of strong women who are becoming a community for me. The local ones are the ones who show up with fun things just to make me smile, who offer to off my detractors, and who love me anyway. They also make me snort unattractively on a regular basis. But there's also a profound sense of community with a group of writing Sherevs.

Paul Simon Every year when my family went from Tennessee to Florida, we listened to Paul Simon's Graceland. It's kind of become music for the journey (whatever the journey is...).  And it's on repeat as I go about my day.

The Gym It's become about community as much as it was ever about working out.  I've been too exhausted to focus on pushing myself as hard as I should (though I'm ready again... starts today.) but just being there with the same people who have the same goals and struggles has been a huge help. Besides, it's an outlet-- which I guess keeps me from being so mean.

Purple Fingers and Toes I guess this is dumb, but it makes me wildly happy.  Since becoming a pastor, I've chosen sedate and professional colors--or at least made certain to remove my wild polish before Sundays.  I was in need of some pampering on Friday, so I got a rare mani/pedi. The color that grabbed my attention was BRIGHT purple. So I did it.  And on Sunday, when I needed a little oomph in my life, the purple polish made me smile.  But it's more than that.  It's a letting go of the need to appear to be a certain way.  It's an embracing of who I am, instead of worrying about what people will think.

Real Friends Who know, and get it--who get me.  Who will ask if I'm alright, and not accept crap answers. Who challenge me to stand strongly, but who wrap me into a hug when I'm not strong enough to stand at all.  Who defend me if I need it, who push me if I'm not pushing myself.

Bella My 5 year old, 40 lb mutt lapdog.  She has this wonderfully joyful personality--and whether or not people agree that this is possible, she totally smiles.  She makes me smile.  And she makes me get out of the house and walk and breathe. We have entire conversations (ok, I do most of the talking, but she always nods in agreement... before slyly trying to drink my coffee.) And she rocks as a guard dog.

Text messaging Some of my techy church folks are super texters, and they get that I'm sort of in a place.  Yet they want to love me and support me.  So they send me rockstar texts before I preach or at random other times.

Hammock Napping Sunshine, gentle rocking--maybe a book.  Nuff said.

Grilling So let me just say it.  In all this revamping I'm doing, I've become a grill master. Porkchops, shrimp, chicken, steaks and maybe a fish if I get really brave. Love the smell of charcoal, and cooking outside without having to heat up my kitchen.  But more than that, I love that I did something new and wound up loving it.

I'm sure that while this is an expansive list, it's not exhaustive. A lot of things are saving my life right now.  And I'm able to notice and appreciate them, small and trivial though they may be.