Spring officially began last weekend. I delight in seeing my spring bulbs stick their bright green sprouts through the soil in search of the sun promised by longer days. The trees in the national park behind my apartment are generously showing their own bright green with a few almost leafed out. Here in Washington blooming trees, including the famous Japanese cherry blossoms which are in peak bloom this very day, abound. How fortunate I feel to be able to work from work to the Metro every day by this display that others travel from all over the world to experience.
While there are things that I love about each of the four seasons, spring holds promise. Whatever magical process that has been occurring in the ground during the dark months now moves boldly into the next stage of life's cycle.
We should not be surprised at this time of natural inspiration that many religions mark holidays, such as Easter and Passover, when we gather with friends and family to eat and drink and be joyous after having gone through a period of darkness, threat, and even death or imminent death. Even the Easter Bunny grew out of a pagan celebration of fertility, and Easter eggs are associated with what will be born, indicating that such spring celebrations have long been with us.
I have been called a heretic, so this is a spoiler alert that if you don't want anyone messing with your literal reading of the Easter story, this is a good time to hit the little "X" in the corner and come back another day.
My spiritual roots developed in the Christian tradition, so I observe Easter this weekend. Although Christianity formed my basic spiritual concepts, I have found learning and guidance in many religious traditions, and now I look at my own stories with a more universal lens of myth and metaphor than with a literal one.
Looking at it in that way, the story of Jesus' death, three days' burial, and his resurrection from the dead mean that it is time for me to sort through my life, find what needs to die, and then commit to how I want to be reborn for the year ahead. The season of Lent, the 40 days before Easter, intends to be a time of coming close to God in contemplation, fasting, deprivation of things that separate us from God, and prayer and meditation. At this time, we take a hard look at what we have been and what we want to be, and then we determine what new behaviors we want for the future to carry us toward the life we intentionally create.
I believe (more heresy coming) that God is not an anthropomorphic old man with a beard but is instead a force of Love and Good...of caring...that connects all of us. Jesus has been called the great teacher about Love. Even as he was being tortured in death, he did not anger. I believe his role in the evolution of the world was not to give birth to a religion but instead was to demonstrate what miracles all of us can make happen if we act totally in Love. Being Love as a noun, something that we are, rather than "love" as a verb, something that we do...or don't do.
The Easter lesson forces me say to myself, "What behaviors, habits, attitudes, or values stand in the way of me being Love?" Those are the things this holiday tells me to put to death, so that I can be reborn in this season of newness as a force for what is good in the world. My work is to be that day in and day out.
Years ago I recall hearing someone reflect on the shadow nature of all of us. The source is forgotten, but I remember hearing that in all of us, even the worst of us, there is a Mother Teresa who is kind, loving and compassionate. And in all of us, even the best of us, there is an ax murderer, who is driven by hate, fear, and anger and is capable of unmentionable evil. Our job is to choose who we will be.
That is the work of rebirth: taking a hard look at any speck within us that is driven by anything other than Love and plucking it out. Then consciously choosing how we become Love in the world.
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Thursday, February 11, 2016
40 Days
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the first day of the Season of Lent. Lent is the Christian tradition of taking the 40 days before Easter for prayer, engaging in spiritual study, fasting, and giving up something that separates us from God for the season. As those who have been reading my column for a while will know, for me that means that I give up sugar to satisfy the last of those requirements.
Lent is one of many biblical references to the number 40, which some biblical scholars believe to be God's number for times of trial and hardship. Although there are more, some are honored by all three of the Abrahamic traditions. Rain fell on the earth for 40 days and 40 nights in the great flood. Moses spent 40 days in the desert after killing the Egyptian and another 40 days on Mt. Sinah. (For others, see: http://www.gotquestions.org/40-days-Bible.html.)
In the Christian tradition, it is appropriate that Lent is 40 days because before his crucifixion, Jesus was tempted for 40 days and 40 nights, and 40 days also passed between Jesus’ resurrection and his ascension into heaven. It makes sense that one of the aspects of the holiday is to give up what we are tempted by.
I find it interesting that biblical scholars consider 40 the number of trial and hardship. Maybe I am not doing it right, but I find this time to be one of purification or "coming clean." While I am usually fidgety for the first two or three days as I flush out the junk from my system. I have prepared some detoxifying foods this evening to accelerate that process, and I've done this enough to know that this too will pass.
With three or four days I am noticing that I am much calmer and making healthier choices. While I am very active, I have fought going to the gym in recent years. On Ash Wednesday instead of heading home at the end of the day, I went down to the gym, and I enjoyed it. Being more disciplined about meditation also contributes to that calm.
I expect within a week or so, I will feel quite calm and centered. I am more relaxed. I will move through the world with more ease than any other time of the year. So, biblical scholars aside, I do not think of this as a hardship at all, and only to the extent that the detoxifying process is a bit of a struggle is Lent a trial for me. Instead, it feels like coming home. For that I am grateful.
Lent is one of many biblical references to the number 40, which some biblical scholars believe to be God's number for times of trial and hardship. Although there are more, some are honored by all three of the Abrahamic traditions. Rain fell on the earth for 40 days and 40 nights in the great flood. Moses spent 40 days in the desert after killing the Egyptian and another 40 days on Mt. Sinah. (For others, see: http://www.gotquestions.org/40-days-Bible.html.)
In the Christian tradition, it is appropriate that Lent is 40 days because before his crucifixion, Jesus was tempted for 40 days and 40 nights, and 40 days also passed between Jesus’ resurrection and his ascension into heaven. It makes sense that one of the aspects of the holiday is to give up what we are tempted by.
I find it interesting that biblical scholars consider 40 the number of trial and hardship. Maybe I am not doing it right, but I find this time to be one of purification or "coming clean." While I am usually fidgety for the first two or three days as I flush out the junk from my system. I have prepared some detoxifying foods this evening to accelerate that process, and I've done this enough to know that this too will pass.
With three or four days I am noticing that I am much calmer and making healthier choices. While I am very active, I have fought going to the gym in recent years. On Ash Wednesday instead of heading home at the end of the day, I went down to the gym, and I enjoyed it. Being more disciplined about meditation also contributes to that calm.
I expect within a week or so, I will feel quite calm and centered. I am more relaxed. I will move through the world with more ease than any other time of the year. So, biblical scholars aside, I do not think of this as a hardship at all, and only to the extent that the detoxifying process is a bit of a struggle is Lent a trial for me. Instead, it feels like coming home. For that I am grateful.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Remembering
Over the weekend I read an article about chronic pain, a condition which has often held me in its grip for 25 years. I've learned to manage my pain, letting it stop me from almost nothing. A long-time friend recently expressed astonishment that I'd suffered so much, and he'd never known. If I let the pain own me, then it would win. So, I own it. I've gone for months, perhaps occasionally even a year, during which my simple practices to manage the pain left me almost unconscious of it during the day.
The decision I made to own the pain two and a half decades ago was a good one, it seems. The article said that recent brain research shows that when pain takes control of us, our brains actually change shape. Depression often results. While I've often wondered at it, I don't believe I've ever been "depressed" more than having a down day or two, when I struggled to control the pain when it wrestled vehemently to prevail.
What has always interested me is that even after long periods without the pain, the very slightest aggravation can spin me deeply back into the very worst of it, leaving me to begin once again the slow journey back to relative comfort. I've often thought that there must be a switch in my brain which takes only a small trigger to flip. Perhaps this is what the recent brain research suggests. "Don't let it get started," was the message of the article.
Just as I've been pondering this new finding, I've been walking a parallel path of flipped switches, this time as a result of my decision to give up sugar during Lent. For decades I lived a healthy eating/healthy living regimen. I liked sweet things, but they didn't control me. I owned my decisions about what to eat and what to avoid.
I really wish I could see a scan of my brain on sugar. I suspect that like the brain on pain, my brain changes contorts and takes with it every modicum of self-control. Now a scarce six days after abandoning my sweet treats, my body seems to have remembered how to be healthy. Like the switch in my brain that flips bringing or alleviating pain, my control over sugar has valiantly returned.
As surely as dancing an athletic Viennese waltz at the pace of a sprinter reminds my body how to work, the absence of sugar has reminded my impulse controls how to be healthy. When I walked through the door this evening, I was starved. I'd missed my usual afternoon snack, and I was nearly shaky. Over the last year or two, I would have headed right for the cupboard for crackers, nuts, or pretzels, accompanied by a glass of red wine, or more recently a whiskey sour. Just one, but my sugar shot nonetheless.
This evening I made a beeline to the refrigerator for a pear and iced tea. Later I craved raw nuts. I wanted to exercise. I wanted to sit and write, rather than watching another TV show. Giving up the sugar has apparently flipped a switch in my brain: the healthy living switch.
A friend and I share the stage of life when we aren't inclined to go back for more education, but we've both said that, if we had it to do over again, and neuroscience existed then, we would like to study the brain. I am fascinated by the ability of some relatively insignificant thing to slip a switch and either bring health or pain, even changing the shape of our brains.
I find it equally compelling to reflect on how I have chosen to dominate my pain, but contrarily, I've let my addiction to sugar control me. Why is it that the moment I have even a single sweet treat that I forget how good healthy habits feel? I would like to say it is simply a process of remembering what I need to do, and I think I would be right. However, I don't think it is remembering the way we most often speak of it--the cognitive way. I am quite certain that this kind of remembering is seated deep in the brain, in a switch which determines who or what runs my life.
There was a line in a movie that I watched over the weekend, spoken by a newly converted vegan, "Nothing tastes as good as this feels." I want to remember every day for the rest of the year that nothing tastes as good as this feels.
The decision I made to own the pain two and a half decades ago was a good one, it seems. The article said that recent brain research shows that when pain takes control of us, our brains actually change shape. Depression often results. While I've often wondered at it, I don't believe I've ever been "depressed" more than having a down day or two, when I struggled to control the pain when it wrestled vehemently to prevail.
What has always interested me is that even after long periods without the pain, the very slightest aggravation can spin me deeply back into the very worst of it, leaving me to begin once again the slow journey back to relative comfort. I've often thought that there must be a switch in my brain which takes only a small trigger to flip. Perhaps this is what the recent brain research suggests. "Don't let it get started," was the message of the article.
Just as I've been pondering this new finding, I've been walking a parallel path of flipped switches, this time as a result of my decision to give up sugar during Lent. For decades I lived a healthy eating/healthy living regimen. I liked sweet things, but they didn't control me. I owned my decisions about what to eat and what to avoid.
I really wish I could see a scan of my brain on sugar. I suspect that like the brain on pain, my brain changes contorts and takes with it every modicum of self-control. Now a scarce six days after abandoning my sweet treats, my body seems to have remembered how to be healthy. Like the switch in my brain that flips bringing or alleviating pain, my control over sugar has valiantly returned.
As surely as dancing an athletic Viennese waltz at the pace of a sprinter reminds my body how to work, the absence of sugar has reminded my impulse controls how to be healthy. When I walked through the door this evening, I was starved. I'd missed my usual afternoon snack, and I was nearly shaky. Over the last year or two, I would have headed right for the cupboard for crackers, nuts, or pretzels, accompanied by a glass of red wine, or more recently a whiskey sour. Just one, but my sugar shot nonetheless.
This evening I made a beeline to the refrigerator for a pear and iced tea. Later I craved raw nuts. I wanted to exercise. I wanted to sit and write, rather than watching another TV show. Giving up the sugar has apparently flipped a switch in my brain: the healthy living switch.
A friend and I share the stage of life when we aren't inclined to go back for more education, but we've both said that, if we had it to do over again, and neuroscience existed then, we would like to study the brain. I am fascinated by the ability of some relatively insignificant thing to slip a switch and either bring health or pain, even changing the shape of our brains.
I find it equally compelling to reflect on how I have chosen to dominate my pain, but contrarily, I've let my addiction to sugar control me. Why is it that the moment I have even a single sweet treat that I forget how good healthy habits feel? I would like to say it is simply a process of remembering what I need to do, and I think I would be right. However, I don't think it is remembering the way we most often speak of it--the cognitive way. I am quite certain that this kind of remembering is seated deep in the brain, in a switch which determines who or what runs my life.
There was a line in a movie that I watched over the weekend, spoken by a newly converted vegan, "Nothing tastes as good as this feels." I want to remember every day for the rest of the year that nothing tastes as good as this feels.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Rebirth
Last Wednesday marked the beginning of Lent--the 40 days prior to Easter--for Christians. Observers give up substances, foods, or activities that separate them from God. They also spend time in reflection and sacred study. The idea is to examine our lives--to learn what it means for each of us to be more Godlike, arriving at the holiest of Christian holidays ready to metaphorically start our lives anew.
Sadly, many miss the purpose. "I'll give up smoking for Lent."
"I didn't know you smoked."
"Oh, I don't, so it will be easy to give up."
Lent isn't supposed to be easy. It is supposed to be an annual reset, moving us to our higher selves. While Lent is a Christian practice, it is not unique. Jews mark Passover, which commemorates their escape from bondage in Egypt to return to freedom in God's promised land for them. Lent mirrors as we escape our bondage to bad habits in order to find our way to God's promise for us.
Although each is unique to its culture, the practice of marking the seasonal spring with observance of human rebirth is millennia old. Some may say that Lent isn't a lot different than marking the New Year and New Year's Resolutions, but to me it contrasts starkly, not the least of which is that many New Year's Resolutions are forgotten within the day. In Lent I am pledged to practice for 40 days.
"Practice" is the appropriate word. "Discipline" might be another, signifying that we are disciples or students. Lent is also marked by the personal reflection, which for me is a bit like peeling an onion. Each day I, the student, explore a different layer.
For many years, I have given up sugar for Lent. I am seriously addicted, and nothing distracts me more from my God-self than sugar. Giving up sugar (and consequently alcohol) is a no-brainer for me. Each year for a few days, I experience cravings and even shakes as I give up sugar, but by now, five days into Lent, I am feeling the freedom of having it out of my system.
A couple days ago I actually began to crave exercise instead, and yesterday I ventured out in the cold and snow for a long walk. I loved it. My body loved it more. This morning I walked again, although I did so indoors to avoid the treacherous sleet-encrusted sidewalks of Washington. After a lunch that reflected my healthier eating habits, I actually sat and read. Then I wanted to meditate, which brought me to writing today. As if each good habit naturally led to consciousness of yet another and another.
My meditation did more than return me to my computer to write. I found myself questioning what I spend time on and the level of stress I experience from trying to keep so many balls in the air. I actually laughed when I thought of forgetting to bring an activity sheet to a presentation I gave on Thursday. Although I expect I will be harshly judged for this oversight, it wasn't the end of the world, and we were able to complete the activity in another way. By contrast, letting exercise drop off my schedule for much of the week has had significant long- and short-term consequences.
I'd like to think that I will arrive at Easter pledged to really have learned and practiced my more conscious way of living so that I really will have a rebirth. History indicates that will not be the case. I've actually continued without sugar until my birthday in May one year and all the way until Christmas another, but there is always a piece of chocolate tantalizing me.
But, what if this year, I actually did allow myself to live my truth? Would staying off of sugar be like the domino that didn't fall and knock the others down? Would I keep exercising and meditating? Would I write this blog more regularly again? Would I be more like God envisions my potential?
That truly would be the potential of rebirth.
Sadly, many miss the purpose. "I'll give up smoking for Lent."
"I didn't know you smoked."
"Oh, I don't, so it will be easy to give up."
Lent isn't supposed to be easy. It is supposed to be an annual reset, moving us to our higher selves. While Lent is a Christian practice, it is not unique. Jews mark Passover, which commemorates their escape from bondage in Egypt to return to freedom in God's promised land for them. Lent mirrors as we escape our bondage to bad habits in order to find our way to God's promise for us.
Although each is unique to its culture, the practice of marking the seasonal spring with observance of human rebirth is millennia old. Some may say that Lent isn't a lot different than marking the New Year and New Year's Resolutions, but to me it contrasts starkly, not the least of which is that many New Year's Resolutions are forgotten within the day. In Lent I am pledged to practice for 40 days.
"Practice" is the appropriate word. "Discipline" might be another, signifying that we are disciples or students. Lent is also marked by the personal reflection, which for me is a bit like peeling an onion. Each day I, the student, explore a different layer.
For many years, I have given up sugar for Lent. I am seriously addicted, and nothing distracts me more from my God-self than sugar. Giving up sugar (and consequently alcohol) is a no-brainer for me. Each year for a few days, I experience cravings and even shakes as I give up sugar, but by now, five days into Lent, I am feeling the freedom of having it out of my system.
A couple days ago I actually began to crave exercise instead, and yesterday I ventured out in the cold and snow for a long walk. I loved it. My body loved it more. This morning I walked again, although I did so indoors to avoid the treacherous sleet-encrusted sidewalks of Washington. After a lunch that reflected my healthier eating habits, I actually sat and read. Then I wanted to meditate, which brought me to writing today. As if each good habit naturally led to consciousness of yet another and another.
My meditation did more than return me to my computer to write. I found myself questioning what I spend time on and the level of stress I experience from trying to keep so many balls in the air. I actually laughed when I thought of forgetting to bring an activity sheet to a presentation I gave on Thursday. Although I expect I will be harshly judged for this oversight, it wasn't the end of the world, and we were able to complete the activity in another way. By contrast, letting exercise drop off my schedule for much of the week has had significant long- and short-term consequences.
I'd like to think that I will arrive at Easter pledged to really have learned and practiced my more conscious way of living so that I really will have a rebirth. History indicates that will not be the case. I've actually continued without sugar until my birthday in May one year and all the way until Christmas another, but there is always a piece of chocolate tantalizing me.
But, what if this year, I actually did allow myself to live my truth? Would staying off of sugar be like the domino that didn't fall and knock the others down? Would I keep exercising and meditating? Would I write this blog more regularly again? Would I be more like God envisions my potential?
That truly would be the potential of rebirth.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Committing Sacrilege in Several Religions
As we approach the end of a week of religious observances, I am going to admit and advise in advance that I am about to commit what may be considered sacrilege in more than one religion. If you don't want to be a witness, please click off this page now. Otherwise, you have been warned.
I was seated in a three-hour Good Friday service yesterday, which was quite moving. I wasn't consciously thinking about anything else, but I have noticed that my inspirations often come when I am not thinking. The word "inspire" derives from ancient Greek words that mean "to breathe in." That's how inspirations happen for me. One minute nothing; the next something I hadn't thought about before is just there, as if it floated in on the last breath I took. So it is that about two hours into the service, there was an inspiration.
The sacrilege to which I've admitted is in moving away from the literal interpretation of religious stories and into the metaphorical. What does the Seder story mean to me? What does the crucifixion story mean to me? What do I do today because of these lessons? Then there is also the concept of God as Source within us, connecting us with all that is, as opposed to God as an anthropomorphic Being external to us. I lean to the former concept, which is why I treat inspirations as a message from God to me.
The Seder story is one of God leading the Jews out of slavery in Egypt. That is accomplished because they listened to what God said to them and followed his guidance out of their imprisonment.
The crucifixion story is one that we are imprisoned by our sins and that by his death on the cross, Jesus is liberating us from imprisonment by out sins. Sins are often considered as arbitrary lists of "rights" and "wrongs." It is a sin to kill or steal or commit adultery. I am interested in "sin" as an archery term which says we missed the bull's-eye or fell short in being what we know we could be and need to change our aim--take steps to be where we want to be.
The question that has always troubled me is what it means to be freed of our sins. Does Jesus' death free us of killing 100,000 people or does it free us if we kill one, have remorse, and aim our lives in a different direction? After all, Jesus did say that his followers would be known by their actions, which would imply that they wouldn't willy-nilly be killing people just because they thought they had a free pass. And, what about soldiers at war who killed people to stop someone like Hitler who might kill even more?
However, since I don't think I've ever been even inadvertently responsible for a death and hope never to be, how many people I can safely kill does not keep me awake at night. What has troubled me increasingly in recent days is how I free myself from a self-imposed prison. Tomorrow Lent will end. I guess technically we could say that it ends after sunset tonight, when the Jews usually mark the beginning of holy days, or is it after sunrise tomorrow, when Jesus was supposedly liberated from the tomb?
After almost 40 days without sugar, its derivative alcohol, and artificial sweeteners, I am certain that most of the time (except for these 40 days each year,) I live in a prison constructed by sweet stuff. I have been pretty good about keeping Lent. In the first few days, I did discover I'd unintentionally slipped before I started reading labels. Who knew that peanut butter, Santé Fe tortilla strips, and mayonnaise all contain sugar? I discovered that when I found myself craving peanut butter after I'd eliminated more obvious sources of sweets from my diet.
I do this each year. Will I or won't I add sugar back? One year I abstained until December when I was bombarded by sugary treats. I know that even a bite or a single glass of wine is a slippery slope back into my addiction. Without it, I feel better, I am more energetic, and I am six pounds lighter, meaning that I am now back into most of the pants that I haven't gotten into since Thanksgiving.
But yesterday in church, when I realized that sugar had imprisoned me, this question was contexted differently. I felt as if God were speaking directly to me as He/She had the enslaved Jews in Egypt. I know what I need to do to find freedom, all I have to do is follow what I know I am to do. When I wrote about the Jews following God's direction out of slavery earlier in the week, to just follow seemed a much easier choice. In the Christian context, am I freed from my sin of sugar once or 100,000 times? Should people be able to tell by watching my behaviors that I am not following the Sugar God rather than one who promised freedom?
I wish I could say I will walk away from it. I tell myself that it would be easier if I were an alcoholic or a drug addict where my behaviors would have more destructive consequences, but would it? I am sure the alcoholics and drug addicts would say it is the same. Even as I've been writing this, I received a text from a friend, asking me if I was going to have wine at a social function we plan to attend together. I had to respond that I didn't really know. I don't. I hate that about me, but it is true. I wish I could walk away from it, but I don't know that.
I want to be known as a woman of integrity, and for me my relationship with sugar deeply impedes my integrity. I am a conflicted woman with sugar in my body. Yet I know that when we wrestle with personal demons, they are always with us. Yet I cannot not know what I know: sugar is a prison for me. Somehow framing the issue as ones of integrity or walking into freedom makes the decision easier--easier, not easy. Now I know. I will not partake...today. This is definitely a one-day-at-time venture: all I have to do is stay true to myself for one day...and then another...and another.
I was seated in a three-hour Good Friday service yesterday, which was quite moving. I wasn't consciously thinking about anything else, but I have noticed that my inspirations often come when I am not thinking. The word "inspire" derives from ancient Greek words that mean "to breathe in." That's how inspirations happen for me. One minute nothing; the next something I hadn't thought about before is just there, as if it floated in on the last breath I took. So it is that about two hours into the service, there was an inspiration.
The sacrilege to which I've admitted is in moving away from the literal interpretation of religious stories and into the metaphorical. What does the Seder story mean to me? What does the crucifixion story mean to me? What do I do today because of these lessons? Then there is also the concept of God as Source within us, connecting us with all that is, as opposed to God as an anthropomorphic Being external to us. I lean to the former concept, which is why I treat inspirations as a message from God to me.
The Seder story is one of God leading the Jews out of slavery in Egypt. That is accomplished because they listened to what God said to them and followed his guidance out of their imprisonment.
The crucifixion story is one that we are imprisoned by our sins and that by his death on the cross, Jesus is liberating us from imprisonment by out sins. Sins are often considered as arbitrary lists of "rights" and "wrongs." It is a sin to kill or steal or commit adultery. I am interested in "sin" as an archery term which says we missed the bull's-eye or fell short in being what we know we could be and need to change our aim--take steps to be where we want to be.
The question that has always troubled me is what it means to be freed of our sins. Does Jesus' death free us of killing 100,000 people or does it free us if we kill one, have remorse, and aim our lives in a different direction? After all, Jesus did say that his followers would be known by their actions, which would imply that they wouldn't willy-nilly be killing people just because they thought they had a free pass. And, what about soldiers at war who killed people to stop someone like Hitler who might kill even more?
However, since I don't think I've ever been even inadvertently responsible for a death and hope never to be, how many people I can safely kill does not keep me awake at night. What has troubled me increasingly in recent days is how I free myself from a self-imposed prison. Tomorrow Lent will end. I guess technically we could say that it ends after sunset tonight, when the Jews usually mark the beginning of holy days, or is it after sunrise tomorrow, when Jesus was supposedly liberated from the tomb?
After almost 40 days without sugar, its derivative alcohol, and artificial sweeteners, I am certain that most of the time (except for these 40 days each year,) I live in a prison constructed by sweet stuff. I have been pretty good about keeping Lent. In the first few days, I did discover I'd unintentionally slipped before I started reading labels. Who knew that peanut butter, Santé Fe tortilla strips, and mayonnaise all contain sugar? I discovered that when I found myself craving peanut butter after I'd eliminated more obvious sources of sweets from my diet.
I do this each year. Will I or won't I add sugar back? One year I abstained until December when I was bombarded by sugary treats. I know that even a bite or a single glass of wine is a slippery slope back into my addiction. Without it, I feel better, I am more energetic, and I am six pounds lighter, meaning that I am now back into most of the pants that I haven't gotten into since Thanksgiving.
But yesterday in church, when I realized that sugar had imprisoned me, this question was contexted differently. I felt as if God were speaking directly to me as He/She had the enslaved Jews in Egypt. I know what I need to do to find freedom, all I have to do is follow what I know I am to do. When I wrote about the Jews following God's direction out of slavery earlier in the week, to just follow seemed a much easier choice. In the Christian context, am I freed from my sin of sugar once or 100,000 times? Should people be able to tell by watching my behaviors that I am not following the Sugar God rather than one who promised freedom?
I wish I could say I will walk away from it. I tell myself that it would be easier if I were an alcoholic or a drug addict where my behaviors would have more destructive consequences, but would it? I am sure the alcoholics and drug addicts would say it is the same. Even as I've been writing this, I received a text from a friend, asking me if I was going to have wine at a social function we plan to attend together. I had to respond that I didn't really know. I don't. I hate that about me, but it is true. I wish I could walk away from it, but I don't know that.
I want to be known as a woman of integrity, and for me my relationship with sugar deeply impedes my integrity. I am a conflicted woman with sugar in my body. Yet I know that when we wrestle with personal demons, they are always with us. Yet I cannot not know what I know: sugar is a prison for me. Somehow framing the issue as ones of integrity or walking into freedom makes the decision easier--easier, not easy. Now I know. I will not partake...today. This is definitely a one-day-at-time venture: all I have to do is stay true to myself for one day...and then another...and another.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Keeping My Word When It's Not Easy
We are a month into Lent now, and since about the first week, my pledge to give up sugar, and by extension alcohol, has been pretty easy. There was one evening when I had a friend for dinner and a movie when I really would like to have joined in a glass of wine with dinner and some chocolate truffle cake afterwards, but once I was in the rhythm of coming home and fixing my unsweetened iced tea, I just haven't thought about it much.
That was until yesterday. Yesterday I spent a day in intense design work with several colleagues from my organization, assembled from all over the country. By the end if the day, we were brain-weary, hungry, and thirsty. After we dropped our computers and other work things at our hotel, we piled into two cars and headed down to the port for dinner and libation.
When we arrived, a pulsating band played old rock and roll to a spring break crowd. Most of our group headed directly to the bar while one went to get us on the waiting list for a table. More than any time since the start of Lent, I wanted to join my colleagues in a celebratory drink , recognizing our long day and hard work. Instead, I joined a smaller group in search of a restaurant that could accommodate our large party in less than two hours.
When we were all seated, another round was purchased. I was tempted, but ordered iced tea, along with two other teatotalers. But when the waitress delivered the drinks, my resolve once again wavered. I took a deep breath, and just as I was most tempted, I heard a "still small voice" within me say, "It's not supposed to be easy."
Of course, it's not supposed to be easy; if it was easy, I probably gave up the wrong thing. So I enjoyed my iced tea and the pleasure of being in integrity with my word.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
That was until yesterday. Yesterday I spent a day in intense design work with several colleagues from my organization, assembled from all over the country. By the end if the day, we were brain-weary, hungry, and thirsty. After we dropped our computers and other work things at our hotel, we piled into two cars and headed down to the port for dinner and libation.
When we arrived, a pulsating band played old rock and roll to a spring break crowd. Most of our group headed directly to the bar while one went to get us on the waiting list for a table. More than any time since the start of Lent, I wanted to join my colleagues in a celebratory drink , recognizing our long day and hard work. Instead, I joined a smaller group in search of a restaurant that could accommodate our large party in less than two hours.
When we were all seated, another round was purchased. I was tempted, but ordered iced tea, along with two other teatotalers. But when the waitress delivered the drinks, my resolve once again wavered. I took a deep breath, and just as I was most tempted, I heard a "still small voice" within me say, "It's not supposed to be easy."
Of course, it's not supposed to be easy; if it was easy, I probably gave up the wrong thing. So I enjoyed my iced tea and the pleasure of being in integrity with my word.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Hold on!
I can't remember where I heard what I am about to relate, but it's been years ago. It may have been Carolyn Myss or Mary Anne Williamson The story goes that you turn your life over to God, and the first thing that you hear is, "Thank you." The second thing that you hear is, "Hold on!"
The wind is howling outside--really howling, like shake-the-windows kind of howling. It was 70 today in Washington, and tomorrow single digits are promised again. That is the calmest thing in my life right now. Rather than resist, like a surfer, I've learned to ride the waves.
I turned my life over to God decades ago, and I have to admit that it has been a ride. But, then again, that is how I learned to surf. We are now in Lent, and each year at this time, I find this force that I call God toys with me a bit. Things are almost always unpredictable. Often good things happen. Always unexpected things occur.
Today two people in my office who have fought me for years were actually nice to me...both...on the same day...actually in the same hour. Now that is certainly unexpected. I am not sure I am ready to say it is good, because this feels more than a little like waiting for the other shoe to drop. For today, however, I am grateful...even if a bit mystified.
There are definitely times when it is better to ride the waves of the unexpected than to fight the unreality of expectation. I'm holding on as I get out my surf board.
The wind is howling outside--really howling, like shake-the-windows kind of howling. It was 70 today in Washington, and tomorrow single digits are promised again. That is the calmest thing in my life right now. Rather than resist, like a surfer, I've learned to ride the waves.
I turned my life over to God decades ago, and I have to admit that it has been a ride. But, then again, that is how I learned to surf. We are now in Lent, and each year at this time, I find this force that I call God toys with me a bit. Things are almost always unpredictable. Often good things happen. Always unexpected things occur.
Today two people in my office who have fought me for years were actually nice to me...both...on the same day...actually in the same hour. Now that is certainly unexpected. I am not sure I am ready to say it is good, because this feels more than a little like waiting for the other shoe to drop. For today, however, I am grateful...even if a bit mystified.
There are definitely times when it is better to ride the waves of the unexpected than to fight the unreality of expectation. I'm holding on as I get out my surf board.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
What Separates Me From God?
Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of the 40-day Lenten season. Lent is traditionally observed by certain sects of Christianity, although my first Lenten observance far pre-dated my association with a church that observes Lent.
I feel pretty ecumenical about my spiritual observances: when I learn about a practice from any religion that I believe will enrich me spiritually, I keep it. I have grown from a number such practices. That is how I came to observe Lent before doing so actually was part of my dedicated celebrations. Now that I officially mark Lent, I find that many do not give up things with the seriousness to which I have brought to the practice. ("I am going to give up smoking." "Oh, really? I didn't know you smoked." "I don't.)
During Lent, we are to take an accounting of our lives and determine what it is that separates us from our relationship with God, our Higher Power, All That Is, or however we describe that presence in our lives. While some give up things they never partake in, I think the determination of what separates us is every bit as important as the relinquishment. Over the years, I have given up one thing and another, and each time I found myself much closer to the divine at the end of Lent.
For at least a decade, I have given up sugar because I have found that there is nothing in my life that more quickly numbs me out than sugar. Giving up sugar implies giving up alcohol because sugar is a basic ingredient in alcohol, and I have found a cycle between sugar and alcohol. I am more easily able to resist that sweet dessert that I crave if I haven't had a glass of wine with dinner.
What astounds me each year though is that within a week or so, I miss neither the sweets nor the alcohol. I am calm and connected and peaceful. I know I am closer to God. Some years I've continued to observe the omission of sugar for weeks and even months, but sometime I slip down a slippery slope into Candy Land, until Lent is upon us again.
Each year at this time, I ask myself why would I want to put something into my body that not only separates me from God, but leaves me feeling agitated and out of control...not to mention a few pounds heavier...each year. I am beginning a season of gratitude for having sugar out of my system, and I will once again appreciate the peace and connection. I am certain I will ponder whether I will do this to myself again, and while I am fairly certain I will, I really do not understand why. For now, I am going to enjoy the richness of peace and connection for 40 days.
I feel pretty ecumenical about my spiritual observances: when I learn about a practice from any religion that I believe will enrich me spiritually, I keep it. I have grown from a number such practices. That is how I came to observe Lent before doing so actually was part of my dedicated celebrations. Now that I officially mark Lent, I find that many do not give up things with the seriousness to which I have brought to the practice. ("I am going to give up smoking." "Oh, really? I didn't know you smoked." "I don't.)
During Lent, we are to take an accounting of our lives and determine what it is that separates us from our relationship with God, our Higher Power, All That Is, or however we describe that presence in our lives. While some give up things they never partake in, I think the determination of what separates us is every bit as important as the relinquishment. Over the years, I have given up one thing and another, and each time I found myself much closer to the divine at the end of Lent.
For at least a decade, I have given up sugar because I have found that there is nothing in my life that more quickly numbs me out than sugar. Giving up sugar implies giving up alcohol because sugar is a basic ingredient in alcohol, and I have found a cycle between sugar and alcohol. I am more easily able to resist that sweet dessert that I crave if I haven't had a glass of wine with dinner.
What astounds me each year though is that within a week or so, I miss neither the sweets nor the alcohol. I am calm and connected and peaceful. I know I am closer to God. Some years I've continued to observe the omission of sugar for weeks and even months, but sometime I slip down a slippery slope into Candy Land, until Lent is upon us again.
Each year at this time, I ask myself why would I want to put something into my body that not only separates me from God, but leaves me feeling agitated and out of control...not to mention a few pounds heavier...each year. I am beginning a season of gratitude for having sugar out of my system, and I will once again appreciate the peace and connection. I am certain I will ponder whether I will do this to myself again, and while I am fairly certain I will, I really do not understand why. For now, I am going to enjoy the richness of peace and connection for 40 days.
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