We have spent the last two weeks indulging an addiction to Olympic coverage. We have always loved the Games (our first TV came out of its closet every four years), but they attained extra meaning for our family in 2002. We were living in Salt Lake City at the time, and were deeply involved with the host-city experience.
I feel compelled to reflect on the Olympiad. Still, what can I say that has not been said? That has not become a cliché? Let's talk about fears and hospitality.
In Salt Lake and Vancouver (and, no doubt, in Sarajevo and Lillehammer) local citizens expressed mixed feelings about hosting the Games. Yes it was exciting, but there were voices of dismay. It was a costly endeavour; the money should be spent on the poor. Preparation was disruptive: I-15 was all-but impassable with construction for years. Scandals of personal greed dominated the headlines. Fears proliferated: fears of traffic jams, protesters, and partying in the streets; fears of becoming a terrorist target. After six years of public debate and consternation, many of us just wanted it to be over!
It was then, with the Opening Ceremonies, that a Miracle occurred. When the world arrived on its doorstep, the community demonstrated an overflowing hospitality. Adamant naysayers joined in extending the welcome. Volunteers worked long hours in the cold, and locals partied in the streets with their guests. Traffic flowed, and patience prevailed when it failed. Stories of strangers helping strangers flooded the news. People rose to the occasion because the Games, in the long run, brought forth our common humanity. Even though they spoke a different language and represented a different culture, it turned out that, up close, “folks was folks”.
Since 2002, the Olympic spirit is, for me, about more than sport. It about more than the inspiration of athletes who set and meet superhuman goals. It is about more than bouncing back from adversity and being gracious when things don’t work out our way. It is about all of those things, but there is more.
The rest of the Olympic story tells of people willing to set aside opinions and preconceptions, and to embrace the world when it “showed up for dinner.” It is about a generous culture of hospitality that rises to the challenge when the need is evident. I am inspired by that story to hold my own fears at bay, and to open my heart to the unknown with trust in a happy outcome.
What stories, people, and messages from the Winter Games mean the most to you? What do they inspire in your own life?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Unwanted Voices: The End
Your comments on recent Reflections show that the unwanted voices of overeating speak to many of us. We have different ways of responding successfully to their call. In some cases, it works to turn down the volume. In others, it helps to dial another station, replacing voices of excess with voices of moderation. In yet others, we may be able to persuade the voices to join us in the quest for a better way.
I loved Jamie’s comment two weeks ago; she associates eating with joy. Her voices are able to distinguish the passing pleasure of over-eating from the genuine joy of eating within the bounds of healthy happiness. She also pointed out that voices shriek in outrage when they feel deprived. A choice to abstain from particular foods must find the inner calm without triggering deprivation. Tricky stuff indeed!
Today I want to highlight one more insight from The End of Overeating by David Kessler: planning, structure, and ritual can be tools for to healthy eating.
Our brains do not make wise and mindful choices in the emotional heat of the moment. When we are tired or stressed, involuntary responses overwhelm the rational mind. It is, therefore, most effective to call on reason when reason is most available—when we are calm and alert.
We can plan our meals, snacks, and treats in advance. We can prepare healthy foods so that they are as convenient to “grab and go” as less healthy ones. We can develop specific strategies for restaurants, potlucks, and happy hours. The key to planning and structure is to use our rational brain to build alternative paths of stimulus and response, then to use those paths consistently enough to build new habits.
Eventually, the healthier choice will become almost as easy to make as the unhealthy one. There will be new voices, and they will advocate on your behalf. “No thank you.” “Just water, please.” “Hold the cheese.” The process of change can take years to become automatic. The old wiring never really falls apart. The old voices may sound pitiful, but they are never silent.
When the balance tips toward healthier automatic behavior, the opportunity for eating with joy expands. We are able to experience food as nourishment, food as delight, and food as friend. We can move beyond food as poison, food as trickster, food as enemy.
As for Reflections, we will now move beyond our four-week focus on food. I have appreciated the dialogue you have generated around this topic. It is encouraging to know how many of us are working creatively to meet the challenge of healthy eating. It helps to have buddies.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
I loved Jamie’s comment two weeks ago; she associates eating with joy. Her voices are able to distinguish the passing pleasure of over-eating from the genuine joy of eating within the bounds of healthy happiness. She also pointed out that voices shriek in outrage when they feel deprived. A choice to abstain from particular foods must find the inner calm without triggering deprivation. Tricky stuff indeed!
Today I want to highlight one more insight from The End of Overeating by David Kessler: planning, structure, and ritual can be tools for to healthy eating.
Our brains do not make wise and mindful choices in the emotional heat of the moment. When we are tired or stressed, involuntary responses overwhelm the rational mind. It is, therefore, most effective to call on reason when reason is most available—when we are calm and alert.
We can plan our meals, snacks, and treats in advance. We can prepare healthy foods so that they are as convenient to “grab and go” as less healthy ones. We can develop specific strategies for restaurants, potlucks, and happy hours. The key to planning and structure is to use our rational brain to build alternative paths of stimulus and response, then to use those paths consistently enough to build new habits.
Eventually, the healthier choice will become almost as easy to make as the unhealthy one. There will be new voices, and they will advocate on your behalf. “No thank you.” “Just water, please.” “Hold the cheese.” The process of change can take years to become automatic. The old wiring never really falls apart. The old voices may sound pitiful, but they are never silent.
When the balance tips toward healthier automatic behavior, the opportunity for eating with joy expands. We are able to experience food as nourishment, food as delight, and food as friend. We can move beyond food as poison, food as trickster, food as enemy.
As for Reflections, we will now move beyond our four-week focus on food. I have appreciated the dialogue you have generated around this topic. It is encouraging to know how many of us are working creatively to meet the challenge of healthy eating. It helps to have buddies.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Unwanted Voices: Part Three
It is Valentine’s Day. The voices demand something sweet for (and from) your sweetheart. They remind you that a treat is a measure of devotion. The voices and a heart-shaped box of chocolates convey a deeply conditioned, conspiratorial message: food is love. Sweet food, and lots of food are the best kind of love.
It begins at the beginning. As infants we depend on loving adults to provide food for our needs. We learn from the earliest moments that love and nourishment come as a package deal. It starts with the basics of food as survival, and evolves quickly into food as a treat. “I baked your favorite cookies.” “Great report card, let’s stop at Dairy Queen.” “What kind of cake do you want for your birthday?”
As we grow into adulthood, food is entwined with courtship, and the identity of eating and affection grows stronger yet. In our early years, Lyle and I not only saw eating as a shared pleasure, but relished the chance to share special foods. On emerging from a long hike, we gravitated to beer and ice cream. Dinner out was usually a ”supreme" deep-dish pizza: large, split two ways. We relished the rush of eating to excess, and enjoyed the mildly stimulating guilt that resulted. We gleefully observed all the candy festivals, from Halloween through Easter, and gifts to one another were often packaged in sugar.
Thirty years older and wiser, we have (with great effort and many false starts) re-defined the link between our love and food. Connecting over a single beer has become a daily ritual that we honor and appreciate. Going out to eat means vegetarian thin-crust pizza: small, split two ways. Ice cream is a monthly indulgence, and a single scoop or small sundae fills our need for a treat. A small, quality chocolate dessert for Valentines’s Day replaces the giant Costco pie designed for a family reunion. Best of all, our love for one another has evolved into mutual support for taking the moderate road, rather than serving as an excuse to throw wise choice to the winds.
Food and love are, indeed, connected on Valentine’s Day, and for the rest of the year as well. As love matures, it recognizes that food is not only an important source of short-term pleasure but also the key to long-term health and well-being. True love looks to the long term and chooses the balance accordingly. The voices can, with time and persistence, be persuaded to agree.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
It begins at the beginning. As infants we depend on loving adults to provide food for our needs. We learn from the earliest moments that love and nourishment come as a package deal. It starts with the basics of food as survival, and evolves quickly into food as a treat. “I baked your favorite cookies.” “Great report card, let’s stop at Dairy Queen.” “What kind of cake do you want for your birthday?”
As we grow into adulthood, food is entwined with courtship, and the identity of eating and affection grows stronger yet. In our early years, Lyle and I not only saw eating as a shared pleasure, but relished the chance to share special foods. On emerging from a long hike, we gravitated to beer and ice cream. Dinner out was usually a ”supreme" deep-dish pizza: large, split two ways. We relished the rush of eating to excess, and enjoyed the mildly stimulating guilt that resulted. We gleefully observed all the candy festivals, from Halloween through Easter, and gifts to one another were often packaged in sugar.
Thirty years older and wiser, we have (with great effort and many false starts) re-defined the link between our love and food. Connecting over a single beer has become a daily ritual that we honor and appreciate. Going out to eat means vegetarian thin-crust pizza: small, split two ways. Ice cream is a monthly indulgence, and a single scoop or small sundae fills our need for a treat. A small, quality chocolate dessert for Valentines’s Day replaces the giant Costco pie designed for a family reunion. Best of all, our love for one another has evolved into mutual support for taking the moderate road, rather than serving as an excuse to throw wise choice to the winds.
Food and love are, indeed, connected on Valentine’s Day, and for the rest of the year as well. As love matures, it recognizes that food is not only an important source of short-term pleasure but also the key to long-term health and well-being. True love looks to the long term and chooses the balance accordingly. The voices can, with time and persistence, be persuaded to agree.
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Unwanted Voices: Part Two
The voices are angry. They don’t like it when we shine a light on their shadowy faces. They were alarmed at the amount of recognition and response that arose in last week’s discussion. They depend on anonymity for their power over our lives.
The first step in taking charge of uncontrolled eating is to recognize it for what it is. It is an involuntary reflex built into our neurons and mediated by our hormones. It is a false but compelling link between food and happiness. Significant, sustained effort is required to weaken that link, and the initial effort is to see it more clearly.
In The End of Overeating, David Kessler devotes his final two chapters to the theory and practice of “Food Rehab.” I recommend the original for those who want more depth. Some key points resonated with special power for me. I will explore them over the next few weeks.
Key Point #1: The connection between certain foods and the reward they represent may be rooted in evolution, and is strengthened each time it is used. Our ancestors faced a very different array of food choices than we have today. Their systems developed over the millennia to acquire rare elements (sugar, salt, and fat) by gorging when they were available. Early humans were also designed to over-eat in times of plenty, to prevent starvation in times of scarcity. We too have primitive urges to eat out of control, some foods more than others.
For most of my life, I have tried to eat chips and cookies in moderation. I have succeeded and I have failed, but in times of success the voices have become ever louder and more insistent. If I have stopped at one, I have obsessed the rest of the day with a desire for more. If I ate a brownie at afternoon break, a blur of food fantasies obscured the rest of the budget meeting and stood in the way of rational decisions, whether about food or figures.
I few years ago, I experimented with abstinence. I swore off chips and cookies for ten weeks as part of a wellness challenge at work. I was amazed that the voices softened and faded. They were still there, but the volume was way down. Two years later, I rarely eat those foods. I no longer consider them a treat, because life is more enjoyable without the company of food fantasies raging out of control. I may occasionally eat one, but only when I do not have easy access to more. The better I understand the theory, the more reasonable it feels to take this step, as drastic as it seems.
I invite you to explore the option of swearing off a few foods that hold the greatest power over your freedom to choose. Have you tried it before? How did it work? Does the theory make the practice any more attractive?
Next week we will feature a Valentine’s Day special, the link between food and love.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
The first step in taking charge of uncontrolled eating is to recognize it for what it is. It is an involuntary reflex built into our neurons and mediated by our hormones. It is a false but compelling link between food and happiness. Significant, sustained effort is required to weaken that link, and the initial effort is to see it more clearly.
In The End of Overeating, David Kessler devotes his final two chapters to the theory and practice of “Food Rehab.” I recommend the original for those who want more depth. Some key points resonated with special power for me. I will explore them over the next few weeks.
Key Point #1: The connection between certain foods and the reward they represent may be rooted in evolution, and is strengthened each time it is used. Our ancestors faced a very different array of food choices than we have today. Their systems developed over the millennia to acquire rare elements (sugar, salt, and fat) by gorging when they were available. Early humans were also designed to over-eat in times of plenty, to prevent starvation in times of scarcity. We too have primitive urges to eat out of control, some foods more than others.
For most of my life, I have tried to eat chips and cookies in moderation. I have succeeded and I have failed, but in times of success the voices have become ever louder and more insistent. If I have stopped at one, I have obsessed the rest of the day with a desire for more. If I ate a brownie at afternoon break, a blur of food fantasies obscured the rest of the budget meeting and stood in the way of rational decisions, whether about food or figures.
I few years ago, I experimented with abstinence. I swore off chips and cookies for ten weeks as part of a wellness challenge at work. I was amazed that the voices softened and faded. They were still there, but the volume was way down. Two years later, I rarely eat those foods. I no longer consider them a treat, because life is more enjoyable without the company of food fantasies raging out of control. I may occasionally eat one, but only when I do not have easy access to more. The better I understand the theory, the more reasonable it feels to take this step, as drastic as it seems.
I invite you to explore the option of swearing off a few foods that hold the greatest power over your freedom to choose. Have you tried it before? How did it work? Does the theory make the practice any more attractive?
Next week we will feature a Valentine’s Day special, the link between food and love.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
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