change

What Shapes Us

Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument

On our recent road trip to New Mexico, my family took Mike and I to Kasha-Katuwe, better known as Tent Rocks. The unique landscape was originally formed by massive eruptions in the Jemez volcanic field, which “spewed pyroclasts (rock fragments), while searing hot gases blasted down slopes in an incandescent avalanche called a ‘pyroclastic flow’.”  The resulting formations are spectacular.

We climbed a little over 1100 feet (from an altitude of 5570 to one of 6760), taking in the most amazing views of both the tent rock formations and the surrounding New Mexican landscape.

Tent Rock formations
Tent rocks in foreground, mountainous New Mexico in background

One of my favorite parts of the hike, both on the way in/up and on the way back/down, was the trail leading through the slot canyons. Over time, wind and rain have carved canyons and arroyos into the rock, creating passages (like the one pictured at the top of this post) of surpassing beauty. For most of the morning, we hiked through 100 degree temperatures, thin air and a burning sun. These canyons of layered rock were hushed and cool by comparison.

The stillness of the canyons gave rise to contemplation. Like the rock, which was shaped by the forces of nature, we too, are shaped by the vissicitudes of life. Our choices, our experiences, who we love and how we learn – all have a role in shaping us. Therefore, it seemed especially poignant to share this experience, and these thoughts, in companionable silence with Mike.

We met when I was 18, Mike 19. We were still fresh, unmarked clay. Our faces shone with, as J.D. Salinger put it when speaking of college students, “the misinformation of the ages”. Over the next few years, we shared some powerful experiences as each of us attempted to discover the direction of our lives. Eventually, though, we found that we were bound in different directions, and we parted ways.

The weathers of life – births, disappointments, marriages, jobs, successes – had their way with us over the next thirty years. Molding and shaping us into mature adults, careworn and wiser (we hope). And then, surprisingly, bringing us back onto each others’ paths. Under the extra pounds, the gray hair, the wrinkles, the familiar past could be glimpsed. Only now, the layers and textures add depth and surprise. They offer possibilities that didn’t exist in our earlier friendship: wisdom and generosity of spirit, compassion and forgiveness. Human capacities with which youth is often barely acquainted.

So tonight, back home in my little house in Iowa, I am thinking of Kasha-Katuwe and the lessons it taught me. Time makes shape-shifters of us all. I am grateful for this learning. I am grateful for this earth which teaches me. And yes, Mike, lest you think I left out the most important part (again), I am grateful for your company on this path.

Mike and I, at the top!

The Sunday Roast: Guest blog by Cindy Petersen

Today is our second post in “The Sunday Roast” Series. Cindy Petersen is a May graduate of Mount Mercy University, and her story is truly an inspiring one. Cindy is currently the owner/publisher of Iowa’s newest community newspaper, The Hiawatha Advocate (click here to check it out). The newspaper industry is a struggling one, but Cindy is living her dream right now. If you have a business and/or the financial wherewithal to help support her dream, please check out the advertising and subscriptions page – a full year subscription is a mere $30. Cindy also publishes regularly on her blog, “Write to the Point” if you are interested in reading more of her work!

Cynthia Petersen, graduated May 20, 2012 from Mount Mercy University
in Cedar Rapids, IA with a BA in Journalism

Graduating from college at 49 is nothing spectacular. People much older than I have done it. But changing the course of my life is. And that is what I believe I have done.

Some people talk about fate, and destiny, and believe that ”everything happens for a reason.” I, for one, believe that we are the creators of our own destiny and that life is what we make it. But I didn’t always think that way.

Seven years ago, I looked at where I was and I made up my mind that I wanted to make my mark in this world. I wanted to do more than just exist. I wanted to do something spectacular.

I spent years taking life as it came, raising 4 children, and dealing with life’s little tragedies.  But I learned how to remain calm in a crisis, and I became a problem-solver. I learned how to manage my money and how to make ends meet. I was a mediator, a counselor, a housekeeper, a chauffeur, and everything else that a mother does.

Now I realize that I was preparing for something spectacular.

I wanted to be my own boss and so I thought opening a restaurant was the way to go. I spent hours upon hours on the computer researching how to write a business plan, and why a marketing plan was so important. I chose all the plans for my restaurant; what I would name it, where it would be located, who my customers would be, what my menu would entail, how much everything would cost. I did everything I needed to do to make my restaurant a success. But in the end, it came down to a lack of funds.

And though it hurt me to have to give up that particular dream, I can see now that I was still only preparing for something even more spectacular.

As I got on my knees and prayed to God for chance to see my dream come true, I included that if this didn’t work out, I would go back to school and get a degree. (My father had said to me one day after reading an article I wrote, ‘Forget the restaurant, go back to school, become a writer.’)

And the rest is history. I graduated Sunday with a BA in Journalism. But not only did I graduate, I also received the President’s Award from Mount Mercy University’s president, Dr. Christopher Blake, one of the top three awards given to graduating seniors. I was also nominated for two other awards; Who’s Who in American Colleges and Universities, and the Sisters of Mercy Award.

Getting the award itself was nice, but the satisfaction that I had done something to change the course of my life was what I really received that day. This was what I had been working for the past four years; that I had done something spectacular.

And I’m not done.

Most of you know that I started my own business last year and began publishing a community newspaper in February this year. Every lesson I have ever learned has prepared me to take on this huge undertaking.  But I still couldn’t have done it without going back to college. It was the last piece to my puzzle.

Something spectacular? You bet it is.

But it doesn’t stop there. It has only given me more reasons to find out what else life has in store for me and what I have in store for life.

Gutcheck 2012

Last night I was invited to participate in an annual event: Gutcheck 2012. The event begins at The Irish Shanti in Gunder, IA with a feast – each participant devours a Gunderburger (a 22 ounce burger with fixin’s, click here for photos). After eating the Gunderburger, participants go for an 8-mile run through the nearby countryside. The 8-mile run is followed by the ingesting of a giant tenderloin. As the invitation says,

“Gunderburger + 8 miles + Giant Tenderloin = Gutcheck. Take as much time as you need, but you can’t yak.”
 

While it may sound strange, I have to say I’m honored to be invited. The crew who plans and participates in this event are all alumni, all were student-athletes (track and cross country), and all are decades younger than me. And while I am not a runner, and not likely to begin a running career with Gutcheck 2012, I have to say the concept appeals to me.

Not the part of the challenge that is all about not throwing up. But the concept of an event which requires you to push beyond the limits of what you have thought yourself capable of doing. That kind of exercise is valuable in many areas of life – not just the novelty run arena. Just imagine…

  • …if you pushed your limits by asking for what you want. In your job, in your relationships, from God. So often, I find myself holding back from articulating what I want – whether what I want is something I’ve already earned, something that should be accorded to anyone with whom we interact, or is simply something I want. Where is it written that wanting things is inherently wrong or selfish? Or that in order to have the things we want in life we need to wait in silence for those things to be given to us? I’ve come to believe that asking is often an eye opening experience for both parties, in part because until we say it to someone else, we often don’t know for sure what it is we want. But also, others cannot assist us in achieving the things we want if they don’t know or we don’t ask. And I have truly found that, by and large, people actually want to assist others in getting what they want in life.
  • …if you pushed your emotional boundaries and reached out to new people and new kinds of relationships in your life. How might your days be enriched by including a diversity of ideas, styles, personalities? Pushing the limits of my openness to others has brought amazing gifts to my life in recent years. The results: incredible people, wonderful experiences, nuances of friendship and relatedness I hadn’t known were possible. It isn’t easy to maintain openness, to push emotional boundaries. After all, we set those boundaries for a reason. But boundaries are meant to shift over time, and it is healthy to test and reshape them.
  • …if in the grand tradition of The Gutcheck, you pushed your physical limits beyond your comfort zone? What might you be capable of if you got out of your head and into your body? Here’s what I’ve discovered: my body, abused and tired as it was from years of excess weight and sedentary days, is AMAZING. Resilient. Strong. And capable of more effort, endurance and courage than I ever understood.

So, I may not participate in Gutcheck 2012: The Event. (Although I’m keeping my fingers crossed there’s a video again this year!) But I think it is important to occasionally stop and do a personal Gutcheck. In what areas of my life have I allowed myself to grow too comfortable with mediocrity? In what ways can I stretch myself in order to discover something new or to enrich my days? Sometimes, we might take too big of a stretch and end up yakking. So what? Yakking happens. It may not be polite to put it in these terms, but I’d rather throw up, make a mess, and move on than not make the attempt to stretch further in my life.

Andy Warhol, Goethe, and Me

“They always say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.”

                                                                                                                                              — Andy Warhol

 

They always say…

Even though we can’t name them by name, can’t even generally define who they are, we all tend to have an amorphous “They” who exert extreme influence over us. They will think I’m stupid. They will judge me. They will be sure to spout all kinds of ridiculous opinions which cause me to question myself.

Don’t even get me started on the “always-es” and the “nevers-es”. They are full of those polarizing words, too.

They don’t know how to stop talking. Never mind how often it is in the voices of real people versus how often it is voices in our heads. They always have something to say to put us in our place.

…time changes things…

Time is such an interesting construct.

If you stand still, it will act like a stream which flows around you, the water moving, things floating past, but you stay in essentially the same place. Other things change, but you do not.

If you think of Time as a stream, and you try to move with the current, you may find you have moved but you are still surrounded by the things that you started with, because they moved with the same current. Nothing is essentially different, except that years have passed.

Time can also be a riptide, pulling you along in whatever direction it is moving. You have to be aware, not panicked – deliberate in your movements – in order to move where you hope to go, rather than where time is taking you. What time changes is mostly external to you. Internal change is like learning to swim out of a riptide.

…you actually have to change them yourself.

This is the daunting truth. The truth that stops us from actually creating change in our lives – we have to do it ourselves. And we know it will take hard work, sacrifice, and a willingness to stay the course when we are mostly used to taking an easier path.

The joy that I’ve discovered, though, is this: the internal voices, the imagined “they”, may clamor loudly at first, belittling your desire to change. But the external voices, the real people around you? They will come forward with a generosity of spirit that takes your breath away. They appear from unexpected quarters to cheer you on, to support your effort, to be part of the positive difference in your life. I know this both from personal experience, and from the many others who have shared with me their own experiences of bringing big change to their lives. They, your giving supporters, may not be the people you anticipated would be there for you. They may, in fact, be people you thought of as incidental to your life. Nonetheless, a new crowd of voices will develop to uplift you and to combat the negative voices you listened to in the past.

The second, almost magical, truth about deep change (especially if you are a late bloomer, like me) is what it does for your concept of time. You begin to learn that time doesn’t have to be a stream or a riptide. It can be a deep pool, in which you float in a relaxed but aware state. There is no past, there is no future, there is this moment. Every moment, as you live it.

If you are wondering whether you can change, whether there is a way to create a life more in line with the one you dream of living, the answer is simply YES. And yes, you actually have to do it yourself. But the first step, the beginning, is the hardest part. And many things will come together to assist you once you set your step to that path in a committed way.

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets:
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!”
                   — W. H. Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition

Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road

Today, I want to look at the past. Not the generic past – my past.

When I was a kid, I loved the Wizard of Oz. In those days, it truly was a special occasion when it aired on television, and I watched every second – even the scary parts with the flying monkeys. Over the years, I’ve seen the story used as a metaphor for a variety of things from women’s empowerment to college graduation advice. So I’ve decided today to use it as a metaphor for my life.

Since the inception of Jenion, I have tried to write honestly about my life – “the good, the bad, the ugly pizza binges”. What I haven’t done is spend much time or blog space talking about the realities I experienced when I tipped the scales at 350+ pounds. In part, I haven’t wanted to hang on to a past self that has (literally) disappeared. But part of the reason I haven’t spoken too directly about my life as a morbidly obese person was my own ambivalence about my worth as a human being during that time period. It is hard to admit, even now, the embarrassments, indignities and huge burden of self-loathing – coupled with the disgust of total strangers – which comprised my daily life for twenty years or so. In many ways, I embodied Dorothy’s companions from the Wizard of Oz.

Like the Scarecrow, I felt stupid, and acted that way. I chose faulty logic over clear understanding so that I wasn’t required to change. Moreover, other people acted, sometimes, as if I was incapable of normal thoughts and emotions. It was a symbiotic relationship: they treated me rudely, with cruelty at times, dismissively at others – and I believed they were right to do so.  But I always had the brains to figure things out, if I chose to use them.

Like the Tin Man, I had a heart full to overflowing. I just didn’t know how to feel it or express it, so I covered it up with food, then fat. I loved. I yearned. I hoped and dreamed. I blocked those feelings and hid my heart – most of all from myself. But it was there, all along, if I only chose to feel my emotions instead of pretend they didn’t exist.

Like the Cowardly Lion, I feared everything. My own shadow was terrifying (and huge). Not to mention the things I ought to have been afraid of, like health risks and chronic pain. My fear paralyzed me from making choices, moving forward, loving wholeheartedly. But there was courage waiting, untapped, if I only decided to reach for it.

And like the Great and Terrible Oz, I was only acting a part. Hoping no one would look behind the curtain and see the creature cowering there. I didn’t realize it,  but the curtain was only fooling me. Those who loved and worried for me could see right through it. I could have pulled it back and revealed my true self anytime.

Finally, I set out on an unknown road as someone who didn’t even know herself. I wasn’t sure whether I could find the thing I was searching for, and I was terrified of bogeymen (lions, tigers, and bears are not scary to me compared with looking foolish, failing, rejection). I wore my layers of fat like Dorothy wore her Kansas naivete – for all to see, both a protection and a problem situation to work my way out of.

Today, for the first time, I am posting a weight with a one at the front – not a 3, not a 2.

Today, I am a much different person than the woman who hid inside that real-life fat suit. I finally realize I don’t have to revile her, hate her, deny her existence in order to become the person I want to be. I simply need to accept who and what I once was. And as I’ve watched this moment approaching it has become clear that, in order to take my life where I want, I have to say a final, loving, goodbye to that frightened fat girl. Goodbye to timid Dorothy-from-Kansas. I’m letting her go for good and all.

Standard weight charts still list me as obese. Whatever. After following the spiralling yellow brick road into “One-derland” the old thought patterns, fears, negative self-talk simply won’t do anymore. Here, I am the central character of my own life: I am Dorothy of the Ruby Slippers. I’ve had the power all along, but here is where I truly take hold of it – no more looking elsewhere for strength of mind, a stout heart, and the courage of my convictions.

The Pause

Keeping busy and making optimism a way of life can restore your faith in yourself. -Lucille Ball

 On Tuesday morning, I rolled out of bed with only one eye open. I tripped on several items strewn on the floor of my bedroom because I just hadn’t gotten motivated to pick them up over the weekend. I dressed for my TRX class at the gym and stumbled out to my car. As I backed out of the driveway, I noticed something unusual: my windshield, which faced east, was filled with the bright orange and pink tones that precede full sunrise, tinting the morning sky. In my rear window, dark night reigned – complete with a huge, brilliant white full moon. Straightening out my wheels and heading up the street, morning rode on my right hand, night on my left. I felt as if I were driving the dividing line between the two.

In some belief systems, this time of day, the “in-between”  or “liminal” time is when sacred or magical things can happen. It is when the “veil between the worlds” is thinnest, and folklore abounds with stories of humans who accidentally wandered into fairyland at dawn (or dusk, also an in-between time). In psychological terms, “liminality (from the Latin word līmen, meaning ‘a threshold’) is a psychological, neurological, or metaphysically subjective state, conscious or unconscious, of being on the ‘threshold’ of or between two different existential planes” (thanks, Wikipedia).

This is how I have felt, these first weeks of 2012: as if I am on the threshold of something. I don’t know what it is, but all this forward momentum of the past few years has slowed way down. And, as often happens when on the threshold of something new, I am in a state of pause. Something will happen, of this I am sure. Perhaps it will be an internal change, perhaps a new external path will open up. But for just now, I need to breathe in The Pause.

The Pause can’t last forever, though. Stasis isn’t, ultimately, my goal. Which is why I chose the word “Move” as my one-word for 2012 after viewing this video last week. As I have been thinking about this word, I have realized that many advisors tell us not to move without a plan, to make your moves count. We plan our lives, we set goals, we live into the future. For me, that type of life-planning is paralyzing. If I am in that mode, I can’t choose which foot to put forward first, in fear of making the wrong choice. In that mode, I would look at morning on my right, and night on my left, and feel I had to choose one or the other. And that would be an impossible choice, so I would stay rooted to the spot I was already on.

Instead, I am looking at “Move” as an imperative to make joyful choices – to try new things, go new places, take new steps in my life. Not as part of a formal life plan, because that hasn’t worked for me. Instead, my informal plan is to Move. Just move. The next step may be a mis-step, but if the imperative is to move, then I can take another step. I want to welcome change within my life and in my heart – whether I move to the right or the left, I move into beauty. What a choice that is! Choose this or choose that – either way, BEAUTIFUL!

So, for a moment, I am pausing on the threshold. But liminal times don’t last forever – dawn always banishes night, night always overcomes day. That’s how it is supposed to work in the world, and in our lives as well. Pause, breathe, move!

Searching My Soul…for a 2012 Theme Song

We all have them: things we are a bit red-faced to admit in public. I’m going to step right out into the spotlight here, and admit that I was a closet “Ally McBeal” fan. I saw the first episode when it aired, and loved it. But somehow, I just didn’t seem to have the time to watch it until it was in its last couple of seasons – luckily, the early seasons were in syndication by then, and often shown in marathons (making it easy for me to catch up in the days before Hulu or Netflix). In a particularly memorable episode, Ally visits a therapist, played by Tracey Ullman, who tells Ally that she needs a personal theme song. Ally’s first suggestion for her song is “Searching My Soul”, the actual theme song for the series (Ullman’s character rejects it as not upbeat enough).

I think this concept resonated with me because I’ve always had my own, albeit mostly secret, theme songs. In my childhood, certain songs just stuck with me and made me feel ready to face the world. Later, I started purposely selecting them. The first theme song I remember consciously choosing was after a break-up in the 80’s: “Goodbye To You” by Scandal. It was empowering.

Over the years, I’ve had a number of theme songs – some embarrassing to admit to now, others still on my list of great songs. U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” was my theme in 1988 and again in 2005 (it’s just that good)!  In 2006, I stumbled upon a CD by singer-songwriter Ari Hest and his song, “A Fond Farewell” (lyrics here) became my new anthem.

In 2011 my mania for the perfect theme song took a very bizarre and Ally McBeal-ish turn when I picked the song, “Club Can’t Handle Me” by Flo Rida as my theme song for the year. If you don’t know it, please check it out:

If you know this song, or just watched the video, you should now attempt to picture me on stage at the Sip-N-Stir – or the dive bar of your choice – singing it, karaoke style, during my 50th birthday celebration. Takes your breath away, doesn’t it? Yes, I know you’ve lost your breath laughing and I’m ok with that.

You may be wondering what a song like this has to do with me? Why in the world would a 50-year-old middle class, midwestern woman who has never been clubbing pick such a song? First, it has the classic elements of a theme song: it makes you want to dance, gets your blood flowing. Second, it’s got a catchy refrain – so what if you can’t keep up with the rapped lyrics? You can definitely sing along with the chorus. Finally, and most importantly, it is audacious. Flo Rida oozes self-confidence…and so do I when I sing along with him. This is an incredibly important point for me – I need some audacity in my life.

On New Year’s Eve, I took a long afternoon bike ride. The temps were fine, but the wind was killer, causing me to work harder than I anticipated to pedal up the long hill to Ely. But on the ride back down, toward home, I experienced an endorphin rush. Luckily, I had my iPod on, and just when my speed topped 23 mph, I heard the familiar opening strains of “Club”. In what can only be described as a transcendent moment, I flew downhill, singing my theme song aloud to the wooded hills, the Cedar River, and a few stray exercisers sharing the nature trail with me. It was a fitting end to 2011, and a last hurrah for Flo Rida as my theme-song muse.

When it is time for a new theme song, you just know.

So, I am on the lookout. There are a few candidates rattling around in my head right now but I can’t say any of them feel exactly right for 2012. My criteria:

  • It needs to be fresh; no tired old songs will do!
  • It can’t be a song that I think would be perfect for someone else’s theme song (“Moves Like Jagger” and everything by LMFAO are already taken, therefore);
  • It can’t be focused on others; theme songs are inherently self-referenced. I love Rascal Flatts’ “I Won’t Let Go”, but it won’t do for this purpose.
  • Most importantly, it must be audacious.

I think I’ll know it when I hear it, but I’m willing to consider suggestions. So if you think you’ve got the perfect song for me, don’t hesitate to share! What’s more, if you have a 2012 theme song of your own, I for one would like to hear about it!

Living With Abandon…Who? Me?!

“If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?”, she asked, as if that was a question to which I would have a ready answer. I stared at her, speechless. Then, to stall for time, I asked, “One thing?” Luckily, she let me off the hook, allowing me two or three things, if I found it too daunting to name just one.

This snippet was a tiny piece of a wide-ranging conversation between me and my new life coach. We met in a wonderful coffeeshop I had never frequented for our first session last Saturday. It is a little strange for me to say that I have a life coach, for a number of reasons:

1. I have a counseling degree, and have used it in my career – but I have never seen a counselor for my own life issues;

2. within the last year, I’ve toyed with the idea of becoming a certified life coach myself – though I had never actually seen one in action;

3. I have been reluctant most of my life to seek assistance (there’s an entire blog post to be written about why this is the case).

I have been a classic case of “physician heal thyself”. There’s a simple reason we’re not supposed to do that. It doesn’t work.

Which isn’t to say that I have been unable to make changes in my life through my own action and determination. Actual change only takes place because I do the work. I’ve learned this, interestingly, by working with my fitness trainer, the ever-supportive Kylie Helgens. The hard work and sore muscles, the determination to show up at the gym day after day, these all come from me. But Kylie offers the expertise to make the most of what I am putting into it, as well as the challenge and encouragement to keep me coming back. Some days, I am willing to let myself down by not showing up, but I don’t want to let Kylie down. Trusting someone else’s expertise, and allowing them to assist in my development, is a powerful experience – and one I am ready to broaden outside the fitness realm.

Which brings me back to the life coaching session. If I am completely honest, I will admit that it was fun to spend a full hour talking about myself with someone whose purpose in being there was specifically to let me. No glazed eyes, no need to be reciprocal as might occur when meeting a friend for coffee: free reign for my inner narcissist! However, that wasn’t the only reason the session was a positive experience. In answering her curious questions about me and my life choices, we both learned a lot. Doesn’t that sound funny, coming from someone who spends a fair amount of time in self-reflection? Apparently, I know more about what I want for my life than I’ve been admitting to myself.

In the past days, as I’ve let her questions revolve in my mind, the answers I gave have been germinating and proliferating. And the answer to her question about what one thing I would change has been revealing itself to me:

If I could change one thing about my life, I would live with abandon.

Doesn’t sound like a very concrete goal for change. But it feels like a good way to explain what the concrete changes would be about.

If you look up the word abandon, you will find a definition something like “careless disregard for consequences” and synonyms like recklessness, thoughtlessness or (heavens!) licentiousness. I will never be a person whose life is defined by those words, it just isn’t in my make-up. But abandon also means freedom, spontaneity, and uninhibitedness – words I’ve often wished could be associated with me. I can be, I think, someone who has brilliant – or creative or at least good – ideas and acts on them. Abandoning myself to that moment of action, rather than holding back out of fear or self-derision – THAT’S what I’m talking about. A-typical for me, but possible.

One session into my life-coaching experience is early to know what may result. However, I already suspect that seeds have been sown which may yield unexpected fruit. My first homework is an assignment to dream…and I am attempting to dream with abandon, in the hope that I will eventually learn to live that way as well.

Nutrients vs Food

I’ve been watching food-related documentaries this month: King Corn, Fresh, and Lunch Line. Each film takes a look at different aspects of food in the US: production, environmental impacts, public policy, and the costs of our current ways of relating to food. I have been learning so much the past two years about food – both how it impacts me and how it affects the world around me. This is another of the unintended consequences of the Hunger Challenge that began this blog and my current foray into learning what my best life/best self might look like.

In Lunch Line, several of those interviewed spoke about changing the school lunch guidelines from “nutrient based” menus to “food based” menus. In case you haven’t heard these terms, current USDA policies require certain nutrients in the lunches served, rather than numbers of servings of types of foods (like 2 vegetables and a fruit, for example). This is the kind of policy which led, during the Reagan administration, to the brouhaha surrounding the consideration of ketchup as a vegetable. One self-described lunch lady said, “When was the last time you saw a food label on a peach? Real food doesn’t need labels.” I don’t begin to consider myself an expert on these issues, but this idea makes intrinsic sense to me. As some of you may know, when I first began to lose weight several years ago, I joined Weight Watchers. I cannot say enough positive things about Weight Watchers and how their approach has helped so many people make changes in their lives – me included. However, I eventually stopped going, in part due to what I consider their pushing of “fake food” – highly processed foods with artificially enhanced nutritional content – rather than a reliance on whole foods, well-prepared.

As I have been reflecting on this concept, Nutrients vs Food, it has occurred to me that the idea may be generalizable to other consumables in our lives, not just comestibles. How often do we settle for something “good enough” to fit the bill, rather than something truly soul-satisfying? Think about how regularly we opt for ease and a quick fix rather than work a little harder for the real deal. We read pulp fiction, but not literature. We hit headline news, without seeking in-depth analysis of world events. We spend more Facebook time than face-time with our friends. I have one friend who puts hot sauce on everything he eats – an easy way to flavor the food on his plate, but everything ends up tasting the same. In our drive-through, a la carte lives, perhaps it might be better to take the time to season things, to enhance and deepen the flavors, rather than cover them up with a single-note sauce to make them palatable.

Some weeks, I feel like nothing more than a hamster on a wheel, and the race I’m stuck in is both a marathon and a sprint. The illusion I sell myself is that this is how life is, there is nothing to be done except keep running and gasping for air. The truth is, I make the choices that keep me on the wheel. The truth is, I don’t change that because change is hard. Really hard, sometimes. But I don’t want my diet to be a list of nutrients to be checked off. I want it to be a menu full of delicious and nourishing food. And that is what I want for my daily life, as well. Rich, full, well-seasoned with spices – and so real and whole it doesn’t require labels to recognize component parts.

To achieve this requires attention. It requires a willingness to go for the slightly more difficult option. Not every time, but often enough that I develop a taste for the more complex selections. Eventually, the headlines (and the chick-lit and the twitter) are seen for what they really are: appetizers – quick and tasty but hardly confused with a real meal. And the meal itself – deep conversation with people I care about, art and poetry, self-reflection and a well-rounded knowledge of the world I live in – becomes nourishing and satisfying in the truest sense of those words.

“When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, 
care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life”
–Jean Shinoda Bolen 

When compassion fails

One night recently, I was at a social gathering at a public venue, when my friend said, “Hey, Jen, did you recognize the guy who just served you at the counter? It’s your favorite student of all time!” I had not, in fact, recognized the man in question. Regardless, he is someone I will never forget: the only student I’ve ever worked with for whom my loathing and anger was so complete that absolutely no compassion existed in my heart for him. None. He was a liar, abusive to others, incapable of considering anyone else’s feelings, a bully, and – I felt sure – a sociopath. In all honesty, the only student I’ve ever claimed to hate.

Years have passed since he was a student. In the intervening time, whenever his name was mentioned, I’ve felt a residue of the negative feelings he inspired in me. Former students often ask, “Was I the worst student you’ve ever had?!”, and my answer is always, “Not even close,” because this other guy so clearly owns that label. So, when we were once again in the same room, I watched him surreptitiously. And was surprised to feel…nothing.

On one hand, it was good to know that the lingering feelings of rancor in my heart were no longer an active emotion. Rather, they were the ephemera left by long-remembered experience. On the other hand, it allowed me to think: what would our interactions have been had I attempted to express compassion for this young man when he was a student? Is it possible that one or both of us would be different people today had I been able to find empathy – something that I’ve been able to offer to most people with whom I interact – in my heart for him?

The easy answer is no. Nothing would have been different, because he was determined to act out in the aggressive manner he did. Compassion would have been laughed at, seen as weakness to be exploited. Indeed, I watched that happen with others who approached him offering friendship or care.

The much harder to accept answer, the one I reluctantly come to each time I parse it, is yes. I don’t know, and will never be able to say, whether compassion from me would have had a positive effect on him. But I know in my heart it would have positively affected me. It is so easy to slap a label (sociopath, for example) on someone and call your responsibilities toward that person done. I was careful to fulfill my professional responsibilities with regard to this student, and I tracked it all in reports and letters to him and to my supervisor. But I know I made a choice to forego my responsibility as a fellow human being out of anger and dislike. The fact that my feelings were activated by my care for those suffering from his actions was how I justified my choice. In hindsight, I know that is simply a way to let myself off the hook.

Why am I sharing this? The very day I saw my former student, was the day I posted on this blog that “love’s the only house big enough for all the pain in this world,” (lyrics from a Martina McBride song), and expressed my gratitude for compassion offered to me by friends and perfect strangers alike. It was not lost on me, as I sat looking at this stranger I had once interacted with, that I had not offered him as good as I’ve gotten. Mercy and compassion allow us to give back to the world some of the good we’ve been given. It isn’t supposed to just be offered to those who’ve granted it to us, a kind of karmic tit-for-tat. If I hope to add to the atmosphere of good in this world, and I do, the only way is to bring good where none previously existed. To offer compassion in response to aggression or apathy. To offer love when hatred has been put on the table.

Am I beating myself up over mistakes I made much earlier in my life? Not really. I’ve made so many, even I am aware this is just one of them. I can’t go back and change how those interactions played out. But I can learn a lesson when one slaps me in the face (yep, pretty much an apt description of my academic experiences, too!). I share it here, not because I grew up Catholic and have a need for public confession. Rather, I hope that by sharing what I’ve learned, I will hold myself accountable to practice my life accordingly. When compassion fails, my ability to be my best self fails. So does my hope to help create a better world.