Infrared sauna

Sweat it Out

On By MezzoSherriIn Detox Journey, The Subtle Body, The Voices in My Head1 Comment

“I come from a northern people.”

I’ve said this a few times in the last couple of days. And it’s true — not just looking through the Boston/New England lens, but also taking the longer ancestral view. Half Scots, half Lithuanian. Not quite so far north that my great-great-ancestors were riding reindeer to school, but close enough.

And why has this been a relevant declaration for me to make? Because one of the techniques often used to help address the body discomfort that sometimes arises during a detox is to sweat it out. Which means I’ve been spending a little bit of sauna time in past few days.

Infrared saunaI know that the sauna experience is often thought of as a pleasurable one, maybe even luxurious. It’s never really operated that way for me. Heat hasn’t ever really been my thing — hot weather, hot tubs, hot showers, saunas — all of then pretty low down my list of personal preferences. After all: I come from northern people.

———-

I remember once Mr. Mezzo and I were on a beach resort vacation together. Our first evening after arriving, we enjoyed the sunset together holding hands and sipping drinks across the Moroccan tile divider between the hot tub (where he was) and the regular pool (where I was). Ever since then, we’ve had a way of joking about the differences in our internal climates. He’s a hot water duck, while I’m a cold water one.

This detail actually puts a bit of a question mark in my claim that my discomfort with heat is part if my DNA. ‘Cos Mr. Mezzo is half-Lithuanian, half-Irish. Not a whole lot of difference in the ancestral geography, but quite a significant one in personal climate. Kinda makes me want to run a couple cheek swabs through a DNA test to see what else is going on in our ancestral trees.

———-

Anyhow, question marks or no, I’ve referenced my ancestry a lot as I’ve stepped into the sauna movement this weekend. I’ve had a strong enough “no” around them in the past that it felt like I was stretching beyond my comfort zone — in a good way, but a stretch nonetheless — even to be stepping into one. So I think calling out my ancestry was an easy way to give myself permission to cut a session short if I needed to.

So far, there hasn’t been the need. I still don’t think I’m the world’s number one fan of the experience of sweating while I’m in the middle of it.* But I do know the experience has helped ease some of the headaches and body pains I’ve been experiencing — so even if I don’t feel all rainbows and joyous inside the sauna, I’m definitely feeling good because of it.

And my biggest fear about it? The one that has nothing whatsoever to do with my northern lineage? The fear of how excruciating it would be to be trapped in a small, hot box with nothing to entertain myself but the chorus of poisonous inner voices that so often run my mind?

Not the problem I had feared it would be. The voices weren’t really running all that much today.

That’s supposedly one of the detox benefits of the HCG journey, and I’m encouraged to see this small sign that this sort of internal silence might actually be kind of possible.

I am definitely curious to see if that particular trend continues. Because if it does, that would be huge in bringing my life forward.

* I’m sure there’s all kinds of body hatred wrapped up in my distaste for a natural process like sweating. However, tonight is not the time to unwind that particular piece of knottiness.

———-

Image credit: http://www.pdcspaworld.com/Saunas-Infrared.htm

Back in My Yoga Pants

On By MezzoSherriIn Detox Journey, Don't you want to be thin?, Health at Every Size, Self-Acceptance, The Voices in My Head1 Comment

Today’s schedule is entirely in the care of my detox/consciousness center. Since I’m with family today, I am garbed in my usual course weekend ensemble of yoga pants, layers and a light sweatshirt. Very different from yesterday’s ensemble.

The doctors’ office down here we used to get my HCG prescription markets HCG through the weight loss lens. Despite that, I give them much honor for being energetically cleaner about it than the places I researched in Boston. To my perception, the tone on the Boston places was all about glamour and enhancing women’s attractiveness to the patriarchy — which is why HCG was bundled in with Botox and laser peels. The doctor here in Atlanta seems more to speaking from a place of saying “this is really good for your body and it’ll help you lose weight!”

Now, there are lots of problematics with any line of discourse that draws a strong connective line between “healthy behaviors” and “weight loss.”  This was pretty brilliantly deconstructed over at Dances With Fat back in January, so rather than rehashing the subject tonight, I’ll content myself to providing a link and a brief quote from Ragen’s insightful analysis:

There is so much confusion about weight and health.  That causes people to confuse weight loss behaviors with healthy behaviors and that, in turn,  causes people to do unhealthy things under the false belief that they will be healthier when they get thinner no matter what they have to do to make it happen.  The next thing you know someone’s doctor has convinced them that the healthiest thing that they can do is have their stomach amputated.

Still, the cultural delusion equating healthy behavior with weight loss is really strong, and there’s a deep deep assumption that almost any woman in this culture wants to lose weight — and, statistically speaking, that assumption isn’t all that far off. So, given the desire of the doctor’s office to stay in business, I get why their marketing plays into the weight loss thing. Honestly, it would be naive of me to expect anything else.

Coming straight out of that cultural construct, it’s not real surprising that my intake form asked various questions about my history as a fatty: highest weight, lowest weight, past techniques attempted  in the inevitable quest to be skinny*, when and how my “weight problems” began, and what my current weight loss goal is for the HCG.

When I got my intake form on Wednesday to fill out, I wasn’t especially surprised to see this line of questioning. Okay, let’s be blunter: I wasn’t surprised one iota.

Despite my utter lack of surprise, it was fascinating to watch how hair-trigger my defensiveness and anger was around that section of the form. There’s the one in me that bitterly knows the pain of being fat-shamed and all the subtle destructiveness of fat microagressions. As my eyes took in the start of these questions and as my mind processed the reality that yes, we were coming up against THAT section, I could literally feel that one armoring up. “Here it comes,” she said, steeling herself. Steeling myself.

I left most of that section blank when I filled out the form Wednesday night.

So yesterday morning, as I was getting dressed, I was super conscious of how I was deliberately costuming or armoring myself for the doctor’s visit. Great sweater, skinny jeans, rockin’ boots. A indisputably Good Look for me.

Nope, my clothes were saying. I am not your self-hating fatty caricature. I am a woman learning to love herself who knows exactly how to dress so I feel confident and centered in my skin.

And with that extra bit of protection, I was able to be calm and matter-of-fact when the doctor and I went over my intake form with all its lacuna in my “history of fatness.” I was absolutely plain-spoken and honest about having a focus on health and detoxing, and not caring what my number on the scale is (or what it’ll be 4 weeks from now). And the medical staff acknowledged that they have clients before coming from a similar place.

I’m doing a lot in this journey to let connection and care in, to practice where and how I can be vulnerable, rather than staying perpetually turtled up in the psychic armor I so often try to wear.

Yesterday was an fascinating reminder that sometimes a little bit of protection is the perfect dose of self-care: something that allowed me to face an unfamiliar and somewhat triggering circumstance for the purpose of starting this detox movement. In other words: allowing myself the armoring movement around the little thing (my distaste for the culture’s weight loss obsession) gave me the space to remain open to the BIG thing (the HCG journey and the larger detox exploration).

That’s a tradeoff I’m entirely at peace with.

* Because as I’ve observed before, to not want to be skinny is pretty damned inconceivable.

Taking It All In

On By MezzoSherriIn Detox Journey, Fat is Just an Adjective, Practicing in the Heart2 Comments

I’m down here for a 4, 4-and-a-half day experience, which is meant to transition me into a 42-day HCG journey. (Which in itself is intended as the first stage in a lifetime path of detoxing and caring for myself differently.)

I share these calendar details in the spirit of observing that it’s only the end of Day 1, and there is already so much to look at and write about that I could take weeks to do it. I’m assuming that in a week or two, once I’ve settled into the protocol, there will be some time to reflect back on parts of this trip. Given that expectation — and, quite honestly, given the reality that I can only write so much before my weary bones call me to bed — I’m not even remotely going to try and pretend I’m going to capture everything worth saying here in the midst of experiencing everything. Instead, I’m just going to look at whatever is most present to me.

So, one big thing that happened today is I had my doctor’s consult and did my first HCG shot. Which means I’m in the midst of one of the more counterintuitive moments of the protocol: loading days.

Here’s my kindergarten-level explanation of how the HCG protocol works. By combining the hormone shots with a no-sugar, no-starch diet, you’re able to inspire your body to shift into ketosis, where you’re deriving your daily energy from fat molecules rather than sugar molecules. Since the diet restrictions also eliminate fats (new fat intake being what the body would first choose as an ketosis energy source), the body is further inspired to extract energy from the body’s existing deposits of adipose tissue — then allowing the rest of the toxins and gunk from within those cells to be cleared.

However, it takes a few days to shift into that second part of the process, so part of the protocol is to spend the first two injection days eating a whole lot of high-protein, high-fat food — so your system has a short term energy source before the deep detoxing begins.

And I mean a LOT of food.

———-

Now I know that it is impossible to look at someone’s waistline and magically be able to intuit how “healthy” or “unhealthy” their eating habits are.* But I also know that, speaking only for myself, I have indeed been living from a place of emotional eating and a lot of unhealthy eating habits. So, as I talked through my Day 1 “loading menu” with my detox coach last night, I kinda thought I would find this piece easy. After all, everything on the menu — lattes, breakfast sandwiches, bacon cheeseburgers, calzones — are things that I eat pretty regularly.

But even I don’t eat them all together in the same day. And it was surprisingly like a marathon/endurance journey to get through and take in all the calories prescribed to me for this Day 1 experience.** And there’s still tomorrow…

———-

There’s the whole other level of “taking it in” — taking in care and support — that I’m also practicing into. Folks filling my water bottle for me and rinsing my dishes after I have one of these surprisingly difficult-to-eat meals. It is harder for me to allow that, even a little bit harder than I expected it to be. And yet, I am profoundly grateful for the care being shown me.

And that, however halfway-told the story is, and however gossamer-thin its conclusion, is all she wrote tonight. Bed is calling.

———-

* And, just for the record, even if someone has the “unhealthiest” diet in the ever-loving WORLD, that person is still of worth and value and deserves to be met with compassion and acceptance and respect.

** There’s also a whole other exploration worth articulating — some other day — about the surreal nature of taking eating choices and patterns I customarily express in a deeply unconscious place and to be replicating them in a sober, conscious, spiritually awake place. Wild.

Fuel gauge on empty

Running on Empty

On By MezzoSherriIn Detox Journey, Meta-Blogging, The Voices in My HeadLeave a comment

Fuel gauge on empty(Just to continue the car metaphors from yesterday, plus bonus points for the 70’s rock call-out.)

When I came back to JALC, I was very deliberate in not setting myself an explicit “I’m going to post every day!” kind of goal. It’s another reflection of that practice/pressure dichotomy: even if, in my heart of hearts, I was kind of hoping I could post every day (or, at least, almost every day), I didn’t want to put that out there as a super-strong goal, for fear of the beat-up I’d inflict on myself when life happened and I missed a day or two.

Now, I’m not entirely missing out on posting today, but this is definitely one in the “quick hit” variety.

‘Cos life, it certainly is happening.

I head out to the center tomorrow afternoon. I am excited. I am nervous. I have a fair piece of packing, travel logistics and generally getting my sh!t together to accomplish tonight. And in the midst of all of that, I’m not really having two coherent or insightful thoughts to string together into a more substantive post.

So: I’m off to get myself ready for travel.

Not even time left over for another castor oil pack. (Which, for the record, have gotten easier to do after the first couple tries. Just like I predicted. *grin*)

———-

Image credit: http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=8422

I am a rock. I am an island.

Letting Go of the Steering Wheel

On By MezzoSherriIn Detox Journey, Practicing in the Heart, Self-Acceptance, The Pressure to Fix Myself, The Voices in My Head3 Comments

One of the things that intrigues me about the HCG protocol I’m about to start is the fact that HCG is a hormone created in a woman’s body when she’s pregnant.

(Nota bene: nothing of what I say next is grounded in medical knowledge, nor is it intended to claim medical knowledge or scientific accuracy. I’m dancing with metaphors here.)

I’m having a hard time putting it precisely into words, but there’s a resonance for me both in the imagined process of a mother’s body producing HCG as part of the protection and nurturance being created for the fetus, and also in the image of the fetus being nurtured and cared for during gestation.

I see myself and this detox journey on both sides of this coin. Certainly a big piece of the journey is to learn to care for myself in different — one might even say “more mature” — ways. To be a stronger mother to myself, in a manner of speaking. (I’m bookmarking that side of the coin for another day.)

Another area of practice and growth for me — which is what’s noodling around my brain tonight — is around receiving support and nurturance, and maybe rewiring some of my old patterns around that.

Let me own this up front: I am not so good at receiving help, support, love or affection. I don’t need to do the detailed forensic autopsy on why that’s so. Take a sensitive girl child, raise her in a patriarchal system with an average life’s share of bumps and bruises and into-every-life-a-little-rain-must-fall, add a dash of intelligence and ambition and you might get someone who decides that her version of strength should be of the “I am Lobo. I hunt alone” variety.

I am a rock. I am an island.So, obviously, some of the sessions I have scheduled for this week’s trip have very precisely to do with the doctor’s consult around the HCG prescription, learning how to administer the injections, all that stuff. But the center I’m working with has a whole team assembled to help give me lots of other layers of support. Tips for grocery shopping and cooking, both within the immediate dietary restrictions of the HCG protocol and beyond it. Other sorts of bodywork and energy work. I’m even staying at the Center’s “guest house,” and the house manager (and/or other center staff) will be helping drive me around to my different sessions and appointments.

I know these folks. I absolutely trust them, and I know for certain that they are going to take good care of me.

And yet. My inner control freak is not entirely happy with the idea of letting go of the steering wheel, both literally and figuratively. And the fact that I am so strongly feeling the limitations of my capacity to receive and to accept — even in something as simple as accepting car rides instead of taking care of myself through a rental car — well, that’s as clear a sign as any  as to why it’s a good thing for me to try and  unwind some of these old habits around false independence and isolation.

Time to try letting the care in.

———-

Image credit: http://www.pixton.com/schools/embed/uneyvcdq

The Fine Line Between Practice and Pressure

On By MezzoSherriIn Detox Journey, Self-Acceptance, The Pressure to Fix Myself, The Voices in My Head4 Comments

A couple weeks ago, I saw a sudden flurry of Facebook activity talking about the “40 bags in 40 days” Lenten challenge. Even though I’ve not been aware of the movement till now, I guess it’s been going on for a couple years or so?*

Anyhow, the challenge is concisely summarized over at White House Black Shutters:

A forty day period in the spring (coinciding with the 40 days of Lent) where you focus on cleaning one area per day. In this one area you challenge yourself to declutter, simplify, decrapify, and get rid of things you don’t need. The goal is one bag a day but you can have more or less.

The 2014 challenge officially goes from Wednesday, March 5th to Saturday, April 19th. Sundays are your day off.

Even though this tradition seems to have started among Christian bloggers, the discussions I saw this year included individuals of other faith traditions also taking up the idea as a way to bring inspiration and structure to a spring cleaning/decluttering effort.

I can absolutely see the appeal, and I gave the idea a long think for myself. After all, I’m betting we still have 40 or 50 boxes left to unpack,** and a lot of the unpacking process is about sorting through all the clutter I didn’t get rid of in Philadelphia and determining what’s going straight from a moving box to the Goodwill pile.

But ultimately, I opted out of the 40 bags/40 days challenge for 2014.

I have a well-developed skill of setting high bars for myself. I can take just about any structure that is meant to help in goal-setting and supporting regular practice of a thing — meditation, exercise, decluttering, what-have-you — and I will use it as a club to beat myself with when I inevitably fall short. ‘Cos I’m human, and sooner or later I’m gonna miss a day’s practice. But I’m not yet all that good at forgiving my human foibles, dusting off the day’s “failure,” and getting back into the practice tomorrow.

So it just didn’t sense like I had the internal capacity this year to be kind to myself within a set structure like the “40 bags” challenge. I’ll be curious to see if I’m in a different place when Lent and spring roll around in 2015.

Till then, I’m doing what I am able to do within the boundaries of my limitations. Work weeks are tougher for me to do any unpacking/decluttering, but I’m building better Monday-Friday habits than I had in Philly about simple things like washing the dishes, putting my clothes away (or in the hamper) rather than leaving them on the bathroom floor, and making the bed.*** And then, each weekend day, I try to get at least one more box unpacked.

At some level, these are very much like goals for a daily practice, but there’s just enough softness and looseness around them that I’m better able to let go any sense of “failure” if there’s a weekend where I don’t unpack any boxes, and instead of immobilizing myself in the beat-up, I just get back to it next weekend and keep chipping away.

In my system, there can be something of a razor’s edge between “practice” and “pressure,” but I seem to be managing to keep myself on the right side of that fine, fine line.

* Considering that last year at Lenten time, I was finishing one job, starting another, and doing phase one of the “3 moves, 2 houses and 1 apartment in 6 months” relocation odyssey, I think I can be forgiven for my ignorance of this tradition.

** Small boxes (file box size, for the most part), so it’s slightly less terrifying than it sounds. Slightly.

*** Yes, the fact that these are victories says a lot about the dire straights we lived in back in Philly.

Not Trying To vs. Trying Not To

On By MezzoSherriIn Detox Journey, Don't you want to be thin?, Health at Every Size, Self-Acceptance, The Voices in My HeadLeave a comment

I have an incredible addiction to the idea of fitting in. Of looking normal, not seeming too crazy or “woo-woo” or “out there” — whatever punitive descriptions the cult of rationality use to condemn someone who believes in Spirit, the energetic system, and so on. The idea of being judged negatively carries way more import to me than is healthy, as does my level of upset around the possibility of having people make false assumptions about me and my life choices.

Given those emotional addictions, this next series of posts feels very scary to write.

———-

In my first couple posts back here, I alluded vaguely to some self-care and detox “projects” I had coming up in the near future. The most significant of those is that I’ll be starting a round of the HCG detox program near the end of the week.

Anyone googling “HCG” is not going to find much of anything that’s discussed through the lens of detoxing — it’s all been subsumed under the cultural obsession with weight loss. This source at least calls it a detox program, but pretty much the rest of the text is an ad for HCG as a weight loss tool. And this article in Slate, plus this blog (and the two she links to) are pretty typical of everything else I’ve found online about HCG: something worth doing all because it makes the numbers on the scale go down. Because the numbers on the scale are quite possibly the most important detail for measuring* a woman’s value as a human being.

So it’s feeling a little weird as I’m moving towards this experience. I know my focus and intention are on detoxing a life’s worth of accumulated poisons (dietary, environmental, emotional). I know it to my bones.

Point of fact: I’m flying some few hundreds of miles away from Boston so I can start this journey in partnership with a detox center that is coming from that same place of intention, rather than going to the Boston-area places that are all about offering HCG on a menu with lipo, botox and laser peels… If I was in a weight loss frame of mind, there’s options just around the corner that don’t rack up the frequent flyer miles.

My goal in this is not about losing weight. But my research makes me pretty sure that I will lose some weight in the weeks ahead. And I have a lot of complicated feelings about that.

I worry about being seen as someone betraying the ideals of fat acceptance/fat activism by making this choice.

I worry about the likelihood that members of the “general” fat-shaming public will likely applaud me for losing weight, and the ways that false assumption will tempt me towards violent angry outbursts.

I worry that no matter how frequently or clearly I am able to articulate my intention for the HCG to be about detoxing, I worry that the experience will still be co-opted into weight-loss discourse — because that discourse is just so fucking strong in this culture. (After all, even the most outspoken fat activist really secretly just wants to be thin, right?) Something about this possibility of co-option fills me with the fiery rage of a thousand suns. Like by losing weight, I’ll be letting “them” (the fat-shamers) win — and oh! I don’t want to let them win.

And yet. In a place of deep to my core unflinching honesty, I also need to own that I worry about the possibility that some small part of me is going to be happy about losing weight. ‘Cos no matter how strongly I try to speak and live from an FA perspective, I’ve had the same share of fat-shaming brainwashing that you’d expect any middle age, middle class heterosexual American white woman to have had. And even though my internal fat-shamer doesn’t come out a lot, she’s still in my system, just a little bit. And I don’t want to let her win, either.

———-

A week or two ago, I read a post on Fierce, Freethinking Fatties that has given me a tiny bit of a lifeline for at least some of these complicated feelings. The post looks at the possibility of weight loss occurring as a result of someone adopting HAES (health at any every size) principles, and marks the distinction memorialized in my post title:

There is a difference between not trying to lose weight and trying not to lose weight. One means that your focus is elsewhere. . . . The other means that you are actively attempting to either stay the same weight or gain weight. . . . [M]ost people I come across who are fat and follow a HAES lifestyle fall into the first category. The act of practicing HAES usually means that they are interested in increasing their health. They are not trying to lose weight, because they are using other means to measure their success. . . . You might lose weight. And that’s okay. You aren’t going to have to turn in your Body Acceptance club card if you do. It just means that your body is changing because you’re adopting different habits.

(There’s a lot more good stuff where these words came from. Seriously, if you haven’t already followed the link up above, this one will take you there, too.)

I’m not trying to lose weight. But if I do lose weight as a side effect of choices I make for their detox and energetic benefits, that’s okay. In a complicated “mostly-okay-but-also-kinda-anxious” sort of way. But it’s what I’ve got for now.

* “Measuring.” Like weight. See what I did there? *grin*

———-

Edit: Because “any” and “every” start with different vowels and create different acronyms when used in phrases, and because it is a nice show of respect to get people and organizations’ names correct…

Getting My Nerd On

On By MezzoSherriIn The Voices in My Head, Topics of Study1 Comment

It’s been a long few weeks at work, so it’s perhaps unsurprising that I’m choosing to enjoy a quiet Friday night at home rather than going out. (This decision is aided by the unfortunate fact that Mr. Mezzo is going INTO a long week or two at his job, so he’s still in his office as it nears 8:30 PM.)

Still, I daresay my chosen form of Friday night relaxation helps prove me to be the Grade A nerd that I truly am.

And how am I choosing to relax? By digging into the materials for the Coursera class that started on Tuesday but that I haven’t yet had time to look at. (See note above, re: a long stretch of crap at work.)

Some number of months ago, I became aware of the field of behavioral economics.* It became something I wanted (eventually) to learn more about as a way to deepen my understanding of human decision-making and all the ways it functions emotionally rather than rationally. I even bought a book on the topic (Predictably Irrational by Dan Ariely) that has, to date, been gathering dust on the shelf.

But now Prof. Ariely is doing a Coursera course titled “The Beginner’s Guide to Irrational Behavior,” which seems like a great way to dip my toes into this topic. And it’s being led by the same guy whose book I wanted to read and whose research I wanted to learn about. How cool is that?!

So I registered — it’s free after all — and when the class kick-off emails arrived a few days ago, I just bookmarked them for when this difficult work-week was over.

Which it now is.

So I have saved the Week 1 readings into a Dropbox folder, downloaded the Coursera app onto my iPad, and am about to crawl into bed to start reading and watching video lectures.

I haven’t yet decided whether or not I’ll do another castor oil pack while I’m lying down to “do my homework.”**

* A story for another day.

** Do I live the glamorous rock star life or what?

Cast(or)ing About

On By MezzoSherriIn Detox Journey3 Comments

One of my coaches has been suggesting that I try doing some castor oil packs.

According to Greenster:

One of the most effective health recommendations made by naturopaths is the daily use of castor oil packs. It’s also one of the most mysterious and least well known.

As with many beneficial remedies in naturopathic medicine, there’s not a ton of scientific research surrounding this practice. Its effectiveness is mostly anecdotal and passed down due to repeated clinical success. I would venture to say that the reason for this is that not much money would be made on using castor oil…and that using it takes a little half hour out of your day, which most people insist they don’t have.  But all joking aside, castor oil has been used for thousands of years for a variety of different conditions.

So, once I get over my initial rush of panic at trying something so new and unfamiliar to me, I’m off to run a little experiment, and will report back when I’m done.

Wish me luck!

———-

I’m back!!

A bottle of castor oilOkay, some first, unorganized thoughts…

Thought the first. More logistical awkwardness than I’d expected. I’d forgotten about my general aversion to slimy textures, so I’m sure I under-saturated my flannel, because ew!

I also don’t think the directions I was following are necessarily the best for curvy gals — I feel as if I would need to be an octopus to be able to do everything required to get the flannel applied:

  1. hold shirt out of the way
  2. hold boobs out of the way
  3. apply flannel
  4. hold flannel in place while still holding shirt and boobs out of the way
  5. wrap lower torso in saran wrap to hold flannel in place — while still holding shirt and boobs out of the way…

(I ended up hollering for Mr. Mezzo to come help me truss myself in plastic wrap, which was only ever-so-slightly embarrassing. I love my husband, and I am rather appreciative that he loves me enough to handle this with grace.)

I am sure these logistical matters will become easier as I get more experience with this.
Thought the second. The plastic wrap in the house is extra sticky so it clings better for food storage, which means it was veritably adhesive on my skin. May buy some of the cheap stuff that sucks for food storage but won’t hurt quite so much like a mofo when I take it off.
Thought the third. Baby wipes are the bomb. That is all.
Thought the fourth. I’d been afraid of getting bored having to lie down and not move for 45 minutes. I’d even given myself permission to stop at 30 on this first try, if I was beginning to get antsy. But with my book and iPad nearby, the time passed rather pleasantly.
Final thoughts. So…did it do anything?  That I do not yet know.
Obviously, I didn’t expect any instantaneous results, so I’ll just keep paying attention as I do more of these. I will say that my stomach kept gurgling while the pack was applied. (Or something in my abdomen.) And I don’t normally gurgle like that, so it was certainly very interesting to have this new thing happening in such direct conjunction with the timing of the pack.
Image:

Looking for My Emerald Specs

On By MezzoSherriIn Pop Goes the Culture, Practicing in the Heart, Spirituality3 Comments

So d’you remember how in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz — note this is the title of the L. Frank Baum novel, not the Victor Fleming*/Judy Garland film — it turns out the Emerald City’s glorious emerald oversheen is caused by these lovely green goggles that get locked onto your head as soon as you get within the city walls, not be removed until you depart?

Why no, these things we've LOCKED onto you aren't significant in the littlest tiny bit....
Why no, these things we’ve LOCKED onto you aren’t significant in the littlest tiny bit….

I’m not really wanting some emerald overlord to lock more glasses onto my head. (The vision corrective specs I must to wear daily are rather enough on that score.) But I do find myself wishing for something spiritually similar to that tonight.

A coworker who I sometimes find challenging has been particularly so the last couple of days. She’s been running a bit of a martyr-complex kind of game, with all sorts of guilt-trippy chit-chat about how we don’t understand how HARD she’s working. And yet when any of us try to offer assistance or to share the workload, we are well and truly rebuffed.

It feels like a bit of a no-win situation, but I don’t especially feel like spinning through all my ego-emotional triggers around it. Instead, I’m on a bit of a different train of thought.

I truly believe that everyone has that intrinsic spark of divinity** within them. A “heart-self,” for lack of a clearer way to say it.

And I also believe that sometimes negative behaviors emerge because someone is unconsciously trying to get a little bit of care, attention, energy for their heart-self, but their past experiences have taught them the only way to get energy is to run these sorts of dysfunctional games. (I know for damn sure I’ve done that lots of times within my OWN limitations.)

So at one very small level, I can have compassion for this co-worker as I imagine the desire to get some energy for her heart-being. But the challenge I’m feeling is that I’m so triggered by the no-win/guilt trip/rejection cycle that I am not finding any capacity to actually see her heart-being.

Which brings me back to the magic specs. Wishing for that heart-colored lens or filter that I could hold in front of my eyes and see this woman’s heart-self. See everyone’s heart-self. See my world and the people in it with a lot more kindness, compassion, and acceptance.

Of course, the wizard’s magic was all humbug in that book, so I’m guessing that my ability to see beyond the behaviors into the heart-self is going to be a lot more about practice and prayer and a lot less about being the child who gets a magic present.

* I know. That’s not really even half of the directorial lineage here.

** Spirit, light, heart, authenticity….whatever name for the “Big Good Thing” speaks true for you.

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Image:

http://store.tidbitstrinkets.com/blog/?p=3237
(Responsibility for the caption 100% mine)