I hear voices. All the time. They call to me. They are not my friends, but they pretend to be. I am told that many of you do not hear voices like these. I can’t imagine your life, any more than you can imagine mine. If you don’t, go back to reading the Sunday paper. This is not for you.
During the Holidays, our little community of wellbuddies engaged in a discussion of holiday traditions, ideals, and stress. So many (of all three) center on food. Our buddy Sharon mentioned on Facebook that she was reading "The End of Overeating" by David Kessler. After a quick “hold” request to the library, it showed up in my reading pile a few weeks later.
Kessler does a masterful job of describing the science, and the personal anguish, of eating out-of-control. He hears those voices as well. Leftover pizza in the frig. Candy jar on a desk down the hall. Ice cream and giant pretzels at the Mall. Their voices are beautiful, and they seduce us. But they are not our friends. They override our rational minds and sabotage our best interests. Learning to tune out the voices, or at least reduce the volume, is a life-long project. Kessler tells us why. He also tells us how.
“Conditioned hyper-eating” is a technical term for our urge to obey those voices. It arises in the complex circuitry of the brain—where certain stimuli have been paired, by evolution and experience, with euphoric reward. The two are linked directly in the brain, without passing through the filter of reasoned choice. The more it is used, the stronger the connection grows. And Grows. AND GROWS. With disuse, the connection weakens. Gradually. But never breaks completely.
Scientific awareness of brain function provides an incentive to curb unwanted eating. I don’t like obeying orders from the “reptilian brain” while my human frontal lobes stand by, helplessly looking on. While awareness by itself may lead to frustration, however, it does not automatically lead to change. For change, we must meet the brain on its own terms. True, we are subject to its conditioned reflex of hyper-eating. It is also true that we can engage the power of reason and choice to build alternative conditioning, one step at a time.
Tune in next week for ideas on tuning down the voices in our heads.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Flamingo and the Bicycle
The subject of life balance comes up in many of my conversations, and I suspect it comes up in yours. Last week, we explored the benefits of simplifying our lives and our choices. Even after doing what we can to pare down the priorities, we are left with the challenge of balancing what remains: Our work. Our families. Our friendships. Our personal wellness. Our passions. Our obligations. They don’t all fit. They are all important. Overload!
The tree. It is one of the most challenging poses in beginning yoga. Vrkisha-asana is no easier in Sanskrit. In tree pose, we are asked to stand on one foot, the other foot gracefully arranged on the inner thigh, hands reaching skyward. Like a flamingo dancing in a ballet. When I think of balance in terms of yoga and flamingoes, I am quickly overwhelmed. For how long can I maintain balance on one foot, even if I am gazing at a fixed point on the wall? How can I afford to focus on one fixed point, when I must attend to dozens more?
Enter the bicycle. Now we are getting somewhere! A bicycle also calls for balance, but it is balance-in motion. The bicycle balances, not on a point, but along a line. It calls for constant adjustment to changes in the road, in the wind, in the flow of traffic. A bicycle can be loaded up with cargo when necessary, or stripped down to nothing when speed is important. I can relate to the bicycle better than the flamingo as a dynamic symbol of life balance.
Balance is not achieved at a moment in time. It is achieved over a lifetime. It is not measured easily by the day, but more easily by the year. On New Year’s Day 2011, what mix of priorities do you want to see on the calendar for 2010? How did those priorities spread out over the months? Some weeks are, without a doubt, all about the job. Some are, we hope, about family and friends. Some may have been spent wrestling with income taxes, plumbing, or a balky computer. Perhaps we even took a few days off for retreat and reflection.
I suggest that the smallest practical unit of balance is the week. What key elements do you want to make sure you fit into the next seven days? How do they balance out with last week’s activity, and with known commitments for the week that follows? As you ride your bike through the snow and ice of midwinter are you maintaining balance by anticipating and preparing for hazards? What do the icy patches ahead look like for you? What will you do to maintain momentum and to remain upright in the process?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
The tree. It is one of the most challenging poses in beginning yoga. Vrkisha-asana is no easier in Sanskrit. In tree pose, we are asked to stand on one foot, the other foot gracefully arranged on the inner thigh, hands reaching skyward. Like a flamingo dancing in a ballet. When I think of balance in terms of yoga and flamingoes, I am quickly overwhelmed. For how long can I maintain balance on one foot, even if I am gazing at a fixed point on the wall? How can I afford to focus on one fixed point, when I must attend to dozens more?
Enter the bicycle. Now we are getting somewhere! A bicycle also calls for balance, but it is balance-in motion. The bicycle balances, not on a point, but along a line. It calls for constant adjustment to changes in the road, in the wind, in the flow of traffic. A bicycle can be loaded up with cargo when necessary, or stripped down to nothing when speed is important. I can relate to the bicycle better than the flamingo as a dynamic symbol of life balance.
Balance is not achieved at a moment in time. It is achieved over a lifetime. It is not measured easily by the day, but more easily by the year. On New Year’s Day 2011, what mix of priorities do you want to see on the calendar for 2010? How did those priorities spread out over the months? Some weeks are, without a doubt, all about the job. Some are, we hope, about family and friends. Some may have been spent wrestling with income taxes, plumbing, or a balky computer. Perhaps we even took a few days off for retreat and reflection.
I suggest that the smallest practical unit of balance is the week. What key elements do you want to make sure you fit into the next seven days? How do they balance out with last week’s activity, and with known commitments for the week that follows? As you ride your bike through the snow and ice of midwinter are you maintaining balance by anticipating and preparing for hazards? What do the icy patches ahead look like for you? What will you do to maintain momentum and to remain upright in the process?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Simplicity and Small Not-Doings
I am reading a wonderful little book, a Christmas gift from my buddy Cheryl. SIMPLE LIVING was written by Jose’ Hobday, an American Indian nun. Hobday builds a strong case for simplifying our lives to make room for the truly important. She speaks to streamlining in the areas of food, clothing, transportation, housing, work, and recreation.
The attraction of living more simply grows as I age. With the years, I have accumulated not only more “stuff” (and plenty of that) but also a longer and longer list of interests, passions, and commitments: more friends and acquaintances; more activities, organizations, and “causes;” a longer wish list of places to see and things to do. I want to attend every lecture, every concert. Eat in every restaurant. Missoula is small for a city, but it has more than enough options to populate my time and the desire to indulge.
One computer has given rise to two (with only one user in the family) because I want to hang out in coffee shops and blog on a laptop. A love of books is always difficult to contain. I joined a gym with more machines, a bigger pool, and a fancy track with a view. With three flavors of cereal, I always have a choice. And ten fresh veggies. And how many pairs of black shoes?
I hear an underlying question, both from Sister Jose and from my own soul: Does having more lead to greater happiness? Not only more stuff, but more choice? Would my life be more joyful if I decided, perhaps just for a week, to eat the same combination of oatmeal and fruit every morning? Wore the same outfit to work at home three days in a row? Decided to attend only one concert each month?
When setting holiday wellness goals, buddy Jane lamented, “I just can’t see adding one more thing.” In commenting on the value of small, do-able goals, buddy Sharon wrote, “My challenge this coming year is to NOT-DO things to leave an opening for bigger things. So even at NOT-DOING, small NOT-DOINGS are things to celebrate!
I have seized the phrase “small not-doings” and made it my own. How about a not-to-do list? We keep adding, and less often remove: unread magazines, classes we want to take, home (and personal) improvement projects, social events, and technological wonders.
Where will you create a small space in your life with one act of conscious not-doing?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam Gardiner
www.wellbuddies.com
The attraction of living more simply grows as I age. With the years, I have accumulated not only more “stuff” (and plenty of that) but also a longer and longer list of interests, passions, and commitments: more friends and acquaintances; more activities, organizations, and “causes;” a longer wish list of places to see and things to do. I want to attend every lecture, every concert. Eat in every restaurant. Missoula is small for a city, but it has more than enough options to populate my time and the desire to indulge.
One computer has given rise to two (with only one user in the family) because I want to hang out in coffee shops and blog on a laptop. A love of books is always difficult to contain. I joined a gym with more machines, a bigger pool, and a fancy track with a view. With three flavors of cereal, I always have a choice. And ten fresh veggies. And how many pairs of black shoes?
I hear an underlying question, both from Sister Jose and from my own soul: Does having more lead to greater happiness? Not only more stuff, but more choice? Would my life be more joyful if I decided, perhaps just for a week, to eat the same combination of oatmeal and fruit every morning? Wore the same outfit to work at home three days in a row? Decided to attend only one concert each month?
When setting holiday wellness goals, buddy Jane lamented, “I just can’t see adding one more thing.” In commenting on the value of small, do-able goals, buddy Sharon wrote, “My challenge this coming year is to NOT-DO things to leave an opening for bigger things. So even at NOT-DOING, small NOT-DOINGS are things to celebrate!
I have seized the phrase “small not-doings” and made it my own. How about a not-to-do list? We keep adding, and less often remove: unread magazines, classes we want to take, home (and personal) improvement projects, social events, and technological wonders.
Where will you create a small space in your life with one act of conscious not-doing?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam Gardiner
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, January 10, 2010
2010: Make New Friends
I hate treadmills. I’m not a morning person. Brussels sprouts—YUCK! I sink when I try to swim.
It is a new year, and as you plan a fresh start I suspect that phrases like those are part of your vocabulary, as well as mine. We decide on a new course of action because we want better results than we have experienced before. We are asking ourselves to try something different. There is usually a reason why we haven’t tried (or persisted) in the past. That reason may be rooted in our self-concept, our likes, and more importantly, our dislikes.
There is a temptation to see ourselves as immutable beings after a certain age, especially when it comes to preferences, biorhythms, and skills. I like a food or not. I swim or not. Get up at 5am or not. It’s in my DNA. Old dog. New tricks.
Personal experience has proven otherwise for me. I started getting up early when I fell in love with running and lived in the desert. I wanted to run in summer and needed to rise before dawn. I have been a morning person for 30 of my 60-plus years. Running emerged as a passion again in later life. I lived in a winter climate, and entered a love affair with the treadmill. It continues strong after 10 years. The swimming lessons that made a difference date back less than a year; I am now planning on a triathlon. I don’t remember when I made friends with Brussels sprouts, but I love them most when roasted.
I share those experiences because they are real and because they surprised me. Since making friends with morning long ago, however, I hear myself differently. When an inner voice says I can’t because “that’s the way I am,” I stop. I challenge it. I make a project of making friends with the enemy. It took a long, long time to make a project of swimming; I can't over-state the joy of turning it around. Public speaking is next.
What nemesis might you confront in the new year? Which one stands in the way of an important goal? It might have to do with activity. With eating. With scheduling. With a relationship. Explore the territory and consider making it a project. I find myself humming a tune we sang in my Girl Scout troop: “Make new friends and keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.”
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
It is a new year, and as you plan a fresh start I suspect that phrases like those are part of your vocabulary, as well as mine. We decide on a new course of action because we want better results than we have experienced before. We are asking ourselves to try something different. There is usually a reason why we haven’t tried (or persisted) in the past. That reason may be rooted in our self-concept, our likes, and more importantly, our dislikes.
There is a temptation to see ourselves as immutable beings after a certain age, especially when it comes to preferences, biorhythms, and skills. I like a food or not. I swim or not. Get up at 5am or not. It’s in my DNA. Old dog. New tricks.
Personal experience has proven otherwise for me. I started getting up early when I fell in love with running and lived in the desert. I wanted to run in summer and needed to rise before dawn. I have been a morning person for 30 of my 60-plus years. Running emerged as a passion again in later life. I lived in a winter climate, and entered a love affair with the treadmill. It continues strong after 10 years. The swimming lessons that made a difference date back less than a year; I am now planning on a triathlon. I don’t remember when I made friends with Brussels sprouts, but I love them most when roasted.
I share those experiences because they are real and because they surprised me. Since making friends with morning long ago, however, I hear myself differently. When an inner voice says I can’t because “that’s the way I am,” I stop. I challenge it. I make a project of making friends with the enemy. It took a long, long time to make a project of swimming; I can't over-state the joy of turning it around. Public speaking is next.
What nemesis might you confront in the new year? Which one stands in the way of an important goal? It might have to do with activity. With eating. With scheduling. With a relationship. Explore the territory and consider making it a project. I find myself humming a tune we sang in my Girl Scout troop: “Make new friends and keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.”
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Monday, January 4, 2010
New Years Metaphor Illustrated
The following comment from a buddy is worth posting separately in order to attach the wonderful sketch of the window-view in question.
Because I try to begin each day at my studio table and east window, I think I'll use the window as a metaphor for this year. The window is (or provides)the act of looking out on what each day has to offer, and accepting what I see...I could retain that peace through the day, saying "this is the day the Lord has made. Let me rejoice and be thankful for it." I am a sky watcher.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
2010: Build Your Own Metaphor
I started writing this reflection on New Year’s morning. The fireplace was warming the room, and the date on the calendar was warming my soul. I love beginnings, so I was excited by the possibilities embodied in a new year. Beginning a new decade is icing on the cake….
…but now it is January 2. I am still excited by starting fresh, but am having trouble writing about it. I have tried a bunch of times. Each time I find it more difficult to select just one theme to develop in depth. As the clock ticks toward posting time, I have decided to take a different approach to Reflections this week. I will toss the ball into your court, and suggest that you build a metaphor that has meaning for you and that generates personal energy from your inner fires. Begin with one of the following, or start from scratch:
+The first day of school (or vacation)
+Fresh tracks in deep powder
+The starting line
+A blank canvas (or page)
+The opening prayer
+A baby, puppy, or kitten
+The crest of a wave
+A germinating seed
+The lip of a waterfall
+Sunrise
The media are awash in articles about the New Year. Many look back at 2009 and summarize what was. Fewer look forward with hope toward what can become. Let’s look ahead, tapping the energy of fresh beginnings to chart a healthy and happy course to the future. Paint a picture on the blank canvas. Write a poem on the blank page. Ride the crest of the wave, or take exuberant turns in fresh powder. The power is there to be tapped and guided wherever you want it to go. Let's share the ride.
What fresh-start imagery works best for you?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
…but now it is January 2. I am still excited by starting fresh, but am having trouble writing about it. I have tried a bunch of times. Each time I find it more difficult to select just one theme to develop in depth. As the clock ticks toward posting time, I have decided to take a different approach to Reflections this week. I will toss the ball into your court, and suggest that you build a metaphor that has meaning for you and that generates personal energy from your inner fires. Begin with one of the following, or start from scratch:
+The first day of school (or vacation)
+Fresh tracks in deep powder
+The starting line
+A blank canvas (or page)
+The opening prayer
+A baby, puppy, or kitten
+The crest of a wave
+A germinating seed
+The lip of a waterfall
+Sunrise
The media are awash in articles about the New Year. Many look back at 2009 and summarize what was. Fewer look forward with hope toward what can become. Let’s look ahead, tapping the energy of fresh beginnings to chart a healthy and happy course to the future. Paint a picture on the blank canvas. Write a poem on the blank page. Ride the crest of the wave, or take exuberant turns in fresh powder. The power is there to be tapped and guided wherever you want it to go. Let's share the ride.
What fresh-start imagery works best for you?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
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