Wogging

I don't run. I wog. Which - roughly translated - means I walk for a bit, then jog until my fatassma kicks in, then proceed to walk till I catch my breath, then jog till my breath becomes short and wheezey.

All I have to say is: In a matter of seven short weeks, I have gone from walking 1.5 miles in 28 minutes in the morning to wogging 1.5 miles in 23 minutes. And today was the first day that as I wogged along my preset loop around campus, I held my head high, and kept a stunning pace. In about two more weeks, I think I'll be confident enough to start the Couch to 5K running program. The excitement is overwhelming!

Also, in those seven short weeks, I've dropped 6 pounds, and lost two inches off my belly, and one inch off my hips and ass. :-D

Go me!

Cranky Pants

I have my cranky pants on today. I'm not sure if it's the two extra hours of sleep I unintentionally gave myself, or the lack of exercise I did this morning, or the crippling panic about my NCE coming up on Saturday, but SOMETHING has put me in a mood. I'm cranky. I want to hide under the covers until this crankiness passes, because I hate it.

I thought to myself, I could go for a walk, that would lift my spirits, because exercise releases endorphins and endophins make you happy! But really, I just want to sit around in my apartment wearing my sweats and eating cheese. Which just frustrates me.

On a lighter note, two people I love very very much have joined me on myfitnesspal! Well, actually, one already was a member, so that doesn't really count. Anyway, it's exciting! I kind of like having real people out in cyberspace with me. AND I'm wishing them the best of luck with their fitness journeys.

T0tally lame post I know, but I don't care, I'm cranky.

Enchanted Moment

My alarm clock buzzed its ever so vexatious sound bright and early this morning. My hand slammed down on the snooze button as its natural reaction. I groaned, I rolled over, I pretended that I needed more sleep for my busy day of bumming around the house.

Fify-six minutes and seven snoozes later, I tossed the covers off and made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. As my hand gripped the refridgerator door handle, my eyes fell upon my exercise chart. There was a big dash through yesterday's box, because I convinced myself that my feet could use a rest from my morning walks. Today's box remained untouched.

I took a sip of the cold water in my hand, staring at the box. I glanced over the rest of the chart - walked four days last week, walked three days so far this week...All the empty boxes seemed to be egging me on. "Fill us, fill us with minutes of exercise," they chanted in sing-songy voices.
I headed back to my room and changed in to my walking clothes. I scrolled through my Zune menu for my upbeat playlist and hit play as I headed out the door. My feet slapped against the pavement as I did my best to raise my heart rate quickly. My breath ran off ahead of me with every exhale - lingering momentarily, as if to incite me. It was fridgid. My eyes watered. My fingers felt frozen.

I came upon my half-way marker. The morning sun danced across the dewy grass, and reached up and kissed my face. I could feel my heart pumping and my muscles working. I didn't feel tired and wiped out, I felt alive.

Upon returning home I took a moment to embrace the smile on my face. Fitness and I had shared an enchanted moment, something we have not shared in some time.

Quick mental dump

When I started this blog, my intention was to contemplate life and find balance. I have quickly discovered that this process is not always blog-worthy. SO I'm now just using it as a place to empty my head.

Four days ago I joined MyFitnessPal.com because I'm tired of feeling fat.
I did fairly well at the begining of the year to uphold my promise to myself to fall in love with Fitness again. I was doing yoga about three times a week, I had cut out fast food from my diet, and I started cooking lighter meals. Just as Fitness and I were starting to feel that spark in our relationship again, Laziness dropped by unannounced. And it brought its friends Food Cravings and Mental Block. In a matter of what felt like minutes, I had retreated back to my previously bad relationship with Laziness.

Then, one weekend, I was walking Race for the Cure, and I bumped in to Fitness. It commented on my cute pink running shoes and pointed out the 55+ aged cancer survivor that jogged past me. The lightbulb came on...again. I'm 24! I should be out having fun with Fitness, not couped up inside with Laziness! I hemmed and hawed over how I was going to try and get back together with Fitness, and decided that I needed visuals. I needed to see how much I ate on a piece of paper, I needed to see how often and how long I exercised on a chart, and I needed to see what others were up to.

My goal is to run the untimed 5K Race for the Cure next year. Sorry laziness, it’s over between you and me.

Emptying my head.

I am masquarading as a responsible adult. I am very uncertain of my future, and very uneasy about it. I am totally rocking out to Moztart right now. I am excited to go to China! I am scared that I will run out of money, get frustrated by the language barrier, or be quarenteened for having the swine flu. I am frustrated by the non-actions of someone, and frustrated that I give a shit about it. I am flattered by the actions of someone else, and nervous about what may come of it. I am wondering if the man in my dreams is turning out to not be the man of my dreams and the man I never dreamed about is actually the man I've always dreamed of. I am chosing to not over-think it, take it all at face value, and move on day by day. I am in dire need of a nap. I am wanting to rid my life of toxic people. I am doing nothing towards this hazardous waste depositing. I am worried that my cat is dying. I am procrastinating doing my homework because I don't want to do it. I am ready for school to be over...about four weeks ago.

Classic Rewind

Classical music makes my soul dance.

I haven't taken the time to sit back and enjoy the complexities, and intricate simplicities of a classical piece since my sister and I saw the Nutcracker during the 2007 Christmas season.

We got a new PA system in my office the other day. The receptionists have chosen classical music to play over the speakers. I am overjoyed! It's as if they knew my mind needed to quiet down, and knew the remedy.

I just wish I paid more attention to the composers during fifth grade music class, then I could at least name the people that move me.

Oh Zen...

Things I find Zen-ful:
My thursday night yoga class
Walking to work in the morning
Visualizing myself on a beach
Getting lost in an art project

Things I don't find Zen-ful:
Looking around my dirty apartment - getting overwhelmed
Sitting at work with nothing to do
Arguing with my family
Feeling overbooked

Every now and then I forget my resolution. I forget that I'm trying to simplify my life and maintain a Zen mindset. I get lost in the hussle and bussle of summer events, forgetting to take two seconds to just breathe and reset. This is why I love my thursday night yoga class. It forces me to be in the moment for an hour, as opposed to furture thinking or ruminating about past conversations.

I believe I have too much on my plate right now, it's hard to keep it steady. A couple of weeks ago, we made a roles and contexts map for a class project. We were asked to identify our different roles, and what contexts they fall under. Then we had to map out connections, strains, and provide adjectives or descriptors to define how we fill that role, or what that role brings out in us. On my map, the only strain I noticed was my determination to be independent yet desire for intimacy. Seemed simple enough at the time.

Over that last week or so, I've noticed that I completely underestimated my roles. Or more accurately, I completely underestimated what these roles demand of me. I'm not just a sister, I'm a maid of honor. I'm not just a student, I'm a graduate student in the home stretch. I'm not just an intern, I'm an applicant for a full-time job. I'm not just a friend, I'm a future roommate with 6 weeks to get ready to move. I'm not just a volunteer for 4H, I'm an adult staff member, committee member, and training director.

Suddenly, my simple "To Do List" has become a "Shit that needs to get done in order to keep my job, raise my grades, keep my boss happy, assist my sister, and organize my personal life List." It would be nice if a week was 9 days long.

Another Day Another Post

After a slightly unneccesary hiatus, my blog is back. Perhaps not in full swing, but it's back.

I took the month of April off to write a screenplay...which I never finished. And have struggled to remember to check-in to blog world.

Not finishing my screenplay made me realize something. I love starting creative projects, but either loose interest or struggle to find time to finish them. I'm a chronic project starter, but not a project finisher. I like getting things started, but finishing them is less important. I'm not really sure why - I mean, I like the feeling of having something accomplished, so why does it not transfer to creative projects? Perhaps there is an underlying meaning - perhaps finishing a project is symbolic of closing a chapter on my life that I am not ready to close.

Or perhaps there is no rhyme or reason, no complicated meaning, no need to over think it, just let go laughing. :-)

Zen-less

I’ve felt that the last few weeks have been rather Zen-less, and I’m not sure why. I’ve stuck to my healthy food intake plan (for the most part, aside from a couple of days of self-indulgence to celebrate my birthday), but haven’t been motivated to do yoga, or take any time for self-contemplation.

I feel like I keep saying I know what to do to keep me motivated, but in all honesty I don’t. I’ve made my list of things that make me happy, and I can’t seem to keep it in mind. I have not found Zen. In fact, I think I took an exit off the road to Zen, traveled under and overpass, on to a gravel road, and hit a deer. That’s how far off from Zen I feel.

Chronicle Moment

(This was created about a month ago, maybe more, but the feelings have returned...slightly. Bottom line, it needs to be said/posted)
Peace. Inner peace to be more precise. This is something I really struggle with. Shocker, I know. I don’t always appear to be the inner-battle type, but often times I am. Upholding an image of rock solid confidence and strength can be exhausting, especially if all you feel like doing is claiming defeat. I find I struggle most when it becomes a matter of upholding an image my friends have created for me. It’s usually not a drastic image – such as pretending to be clean and sober when in fact I’m a drug addict – but more on the subtle side of things. And it’s random things too. Like the way I eat, or my attitudes towards fitness, or which mind-numbing pass time I prefer (confession: stripping down to my skivvies and dancing around my apartment while listening to my Zune is my number one choice).

Okay, we all know I have a big appetite (no question there), but when did I allow myself to fall into the role of Champion Eater in Training, to the point where if I truthfully claim I’m full I’m met with disconcerted looks by my friends? Sometimes I find myself ‘powering through’ even though I’m stuffed. Why? Because I’m afraid my friends will think less of me if I don’t uphold that image? Because I’m afraid that if that’s not who I am, I’ve somehow lost myself?

We all know I’m not big on eating vegetables either, but when did I allow the phrase “I don’t eat green vegetables” become my tagline? The truth is, I think green vegetables are the only one’s I do eat (aside from corn and the occasional carrot). I purchased not one, but two zucchinis the other day, and had to endure the wrath of my friend’s concept of me and my poor eating habits when she looked at me and said “A zucchini? Really? I didn’t think you ate zucchini. You know that’s not a cucumber, right?” (Well, have you been to the store with my every time I’ve gone since the beginning of time? No. For all you know I only eat zucchini when you’re not looking) Two things about this irked me. A.) I’m not stupid, I know the difference between a cucumber and a zucchini and B.) Zucchini is part of the cucumber family, so technically it is a cucumber. Imagine the look of shock on her face if I had picked up asparagus! Or broccoli! Or a squash! (Okay, I don’t actually like squash all that much, but let’s pretend for emphasis).

Who have I let myself become? Or really, who have I let my friends think I am? This seems a bit of a harsh phrase to attach to food choices, but it’s the same idea. I’ve let my friends think I’m a bacon craving, veggie hating, human garbage disposal (I phrase I regrettably used to describe myself once). To the point where when I do make a healthy food choice (like *gasp* eating a zucchini), they are baffled by it. They even have the audacity to say “Who are you? What have you done with Casey?” A friend of mine last night offered me his leftovers (in order to get me to pour him some more kool-aid), to which I replied “No thanks, I just ate, I’m not hungry.” His disturbingly accurate response was “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

The more I think about it, the more hurtful it all is. I’ve never thought of myself as someone who gives in to an image (at least not for awhile) and lose myself, my own thoughts and feelings, in the process. It makes me feel submissive – okay cripplingly disturbed look, you win. As if I don’t believe in myself enough to say “Hey, back off, your perception of me is totally fucked up.” A lot of what my friends think about me is true – I have a huge appetite, I LOVE bacon, I don’t eat many vegetables (well, I didn’t used to), I have been known to be hungry two hours after I eat – but it’s hurtful when they don’t accept the other things that are true – I do believe in physical activity, I like to eat some vegetables, I do get full, I do stop eating.

It’s unsettling when the moment hits you – where you realize that some of your actions are more motivated by what others think of you than what you think about yourself. I find sometimes I shy away from telling people about choices or resolutions I’ve made, because I’m…afraid seems most fitting…of what revealing this idea will do to their concept of me. But what am I so afraid of?! Are my friends really going to break up with me if I confess that I’m aiming to consume more vegetables, or document my expedition towards Zen, or replace chasing after men with yoga? Are they really going to break up with me if I stand up to them and say “Listen up! I eat zucchini, I think fitness is important, I can cook given the opportunity, I don’t want to get cable because I don’t want TV to rule my life, and I don’t care if I don’t dress my age, who made you the boss?”

The sad part about all of this is that the ones who should be reading this probably won’t. I don’t know if they’ve held on to the fact that I’m a writer, or if they’ve taken my failed attempts to finish a manuscript as evidence that I’m not serious about it, or they just choose to see me as the comic relief who spends all of her free time on Facebook (which is only partially true). Sometimes I feel like my closest friends don’t really know me at all – and that truly saddens me. But other times, I feel like they are the only ones who see me, who assist me in finding myself when I feel lost. So…what to do? Am I exaggerating this inner struggle? Or am I exacerbating it? Do I stand up, confess, and retaliate to my friends? Or sit back and let the storm pass? If I were a client of mine, I’d probably tell myself to confront my friends the next time they make a comment that irked me, or come clean about some of the things I’ve been thinking. Easier said than done.

Relapse

I have fallen off the proverbial wagon.

This saturday, I ate fast food. I wasn't even conscious of it! Well, that's a bit of a misnomer. I simply relapsed, unintentionally. It was almost as if I was on autopilot. Some friends and I were on our way back from the liquor store and decided to swing by Taco Bell on our way home for a quick bite before drinking ourselved unconscious. My first thought was "meh, I'm not all that hungry, I don't think I'll get anything," not "No fast food for me please!" But as soon as we pulled into the drive thru, I said "I want a crunchwrap supreme, no tomatoes" more as a natural reaction than a decision.

I didn't even realize what had happened (I broke my no fast food vow) until YESTERDAY. Instead of beating myself up over it, I've decided to take the much healtheir approach and not give a shit. BUT also look at it as a learning experience. Note to self: Beware! When approaching fast food windows, natural reactions may occur. Now that I'm aware that I have this reaction when approaching a drive up window, it'll be easier for me to make the decision to say no.

So like any recovering addict, I'll give back my newcommers pin, my 50 days sober pin, and start the program anew. Days without fast food: Three.

Creativity Bug

The inspiration that's been brewing in my soul boiled over yesterday. It was very liberating!

I've always been a fan of Altered Books - and by always, I mean ever since I saw one in Collage (a craft store) about a year and a half ago. And I've even tried to start one...Key word tried. I just didn't feel my artistic eye was up to snuff, so I became discouraged and quit.

Still being a fan of the Altered Book look, I continued to think about them and search for inspiration. Recently, I've been reconnecting with my heavy metal side, and then it hit me. Music. It was like my mused reached out and slapped me in the face. I was listening to "Enter Sandman" by Metallica (a song I've heard several times before, and this hadn't happened) and I could see the pages of the book forming before my eyes. I let the images brew for a few days before I spent HOURS yesterday sketching and looking up Altered Book internet galleries.

I plugged in my Zune and let the inspiration flow. And now I'm anticipating getting supplies and getting started!

Right now: Feeling very Zen.

Confessions of a Weight-aholic

So the two, possibly three of you that actually read my blogisms may be sick of me bitching about weightloss and the trials and turmoils it brings me, but it's my blog and I'll wine if I want to.

Actually, I had an appiffany this morning. In the shower, where I do my best thinking, it came to me: It's unsatisfying to feel like you bust your ass all week, and then have nothing to show for it. I want that damn number on the scale to be lower to prove to myself that my efforts aren't wasted. It's hard work trying to make your life do a 180 towards health, and it would be nice to have something to show for it. Something that says "Good job, you have a result."

Is it wrong to ask for that kind of validation? I've asked myself several times why it's about the number and not about how I feel, and I can't answer myself honestly. I really don't know what it is about the number that makes me feel more confident. It's not like it looms over my head in flashing neon light for the world to see.

But I feel like people can read it on my face. They can look at me and see the screams behind my eyes yelling that I just want to be a few pounds lighter, a few inches smaller, a few muscles tighter. Because honestly, I think I have a great personality, and I'm satisfied with many aspects of my life, that I feel the only thing standing between me and true happiness is that number that pops up on the scale. That God damn glowing red number that I feel branded on my forehead as I try to live my life. And I feel this healthy leaf I'm turning is the best defense against this enemy.

No one can see that number but me. But I want the validation for my hard work. I want to have something that measures my progress. It may be the local clinical scientist in me, it may be something much darker and scary, but whatever it is, it's saying that that number is the manifestation of my hard work paying off.

I can only hope that as my lifestyle change becomes more natural, the meaning of the number will deminish.

Decompression

I had a second to breathe this weekend. Well, actually I had roughly 259,200 seconds to breathe this weekend, but that’s beside the point, which is: I had a chance to slow down and do nothing this weekend. My batteries finally got what feels like a full charge. I had one mandatory social engagement on Friday and that was it, everything else was optional. I got caught up on my laundry, I grocery shopped, I slept well, I hung out with Kimmie and Barb a little (very little actually), and spent some quality time with the couch and Dexter (the tv series). It was nice. Even though I spent part of Saturday and the majority of Sunday feeling like crap health-wise, Zen-wise I felt great.

Sure my immune system was down, I was coughing more than breathing, and my brain was leaking too much awesome out of my nasal cavity; but I felt calm, almost peaceful, as if I had regained my inner balance.

As I look forward to the week ahead, I’m less overwhelmed with things I should do, need to do, want to do, what have you, and am more at peace with each moment. This evening I plan to do a full load of dishes and then spend some quality time with Kimmie and Barb – watching our favorite CW drama of course – and that’s it. Pleasantly un-busy.

Soup With a Fork

I feel like trying to balance my life right now is like eating soup with a fork. School is pouting as it sits in the optional third row seating in the Volvo station wagon of my life, instead of sitting up front next to me in the passenger seat. In the passenger seat is my social life - and it's acting like a sullen teenager.

I'm having difficulty prioritizing. Scratch that, I'm having difficulty with my priorities. School should be on the top of my list, right? THEN my work, then my social life, right? That's what the list looks like, so it's not the prioritizing per say, it's what's actually taking priority.

Enter: Sullen Teenager Social Life
I have serval groups of friends, some are friends with each other, others are sort of on their own. Overall though, I have a core that's usually at the top of my list for quality time. Lately, I've felt I've given them the shaft. Kind of unconsciously. It seems like all of a sudden, friends are coming out of the woodworks that need to spend time with me that aren't a part of that core and I feel obligated - usually due to the amount of time that has passed since we last saw each other - to arrange a social event. In the meantime, this core that usually trumps is now falling down the ladder and I'm not doing much to stop it.

One thing on my list of things that make me unhappy is poor social life management. I'm not managing my social life well right now - so I'm unhappy. I'm starting to feel that I'm just thinking myself to death, and not doing anything. And while I'm trapped in my head contemplating what Zen means to me, life has come at me full blast and I've - like a zombie - said Yes to one too many things. Truth: I miss spending every weekend with my core. A couple of weekends ago I thought it would be nice to give other friends some attention, but in reality, I just missed the people I wasn't with.

Current Zen Road Block: Managing the social life.
Detour: Pop in the 4-Wheel drive and bust through the barrier.

Now that the cause of my unhappiness has been determined, I can fix it. I think.

A Response...To Myself

That last post got me thinking...

I feel a need a daily reminder. You would think the tattoo would be enough. I mean come on, I paid a guy a buck twenty to scar my body for life with a personal holy trinity. You would think that that would keep me on track. But I find myself forgetting what it is I’m really after. I get distracted with random rest stops on the side of the road. Not even good attractions or scenic areas, but rest stops. A honey bucket and an old bulletin board about tree life in the Pacific Northwest is what I find I think about more than heading to Serenity Lake.

I thought this blog would serve as a pretty good reminder, but it turns out I kind of forget about it more than I think about it. I need a visual. A huge sign that says “Go Directly to Zen, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200.” Hm, I sense an art project in the making. Perhaps a collage of things that bring me happiness, inspirational quotes, a huge picture of the Dahli Llama giving me a thumbs up…This problem may have just figured itself out.

The List

(Okay, so acutally I had this musing a week or so ago, and just found it again. I think it's necessary to post)

How will I know when I find Zen? This question has been plaguing me for the past four weeks. I have no answer, no idea where to find the answer (lie: I’m pretty sure I can find the answer within myself, I just don’t know how, or which closet of my soul to look in). I can’t exactly type this one in to ask.com.

So I find myself frustrated. I want Zen and I want it now. (And I kind of want it covered in chocolate)

This expedition so far has tuned in my philosophical side. Finally! My minor is put to good use. But am I philosophizing about pertinent things? I feel I embarked on this journey to ultimately better myself in some way. Not to just lose weight and be happy, but to focus on what it is that makes me happy and not allow things that make me unhappy control my life.

Enter: THE LIST

Things that make me happy
Being confident in my body
Cooking for myself successfully
Spending quality time with friends and family
Getting good feedback from work
Feeling like I’m learning in school
Chocolate chip cookies
Puppies and Kittens

Things that make me unhappy
Feeling fat
Making poor food choices (well, it usually makes me happy at the time, but then I feel unhappy afterwards)
Not balancing time between people well
Douche bags

Seems simple enough. Note to self: avoid feeling fat, poor food choices, poor social life management and douche bags. Done. And apparently I feel this will bring me Zen. It’s a possibility. Frankly, everything’s possible (or is it anything’s possible?) on the road to Zen. But am I going to feel like a better person if I’m confident, a chef, a good friend/daughter/sister, an academic and cookie monster? Maybe. I guess we’ll have to see.

A Nagging Frustration

This is hard. This is really hard. I’ve sort of figured out what Zen means to me – My Zen if you will – but it’s hard to keep it in mind at all times. I feel particularly Zen when I do yoga in the morning, and then sit and sip my coffee and contemplate happy things. I don’t feel particularly Zen when I step on the scale and it reads the same number as last week.

This wasn’t supposed to be about losing weight – but it so is. I don’t want it to be about the number, I want it to be about how I feel. I also want to find a million dollars in my couch cushions. Should I just accept that it’s about the number? That this magical arbitrary numeric value will determine my happiness? That’s what frustrates me. I don’t want a number to control my happiness. I need to reconstruct this concept. But…how?

I guess part of why I think about this is that this whole resolution started because I wanted to not be fat anymore. I wanted to be able to control my urges to drive through Muchos (mmm Muchos…) and learn to cook healthy, tasty meals. I have sort of learned that – turns out I can actually read and follow a recipe without burning down my kitchen. But what I haven’t learned is what it takes to lose weight, keep it off, and maintain/make healthy choices. I feel like people who have found their Zen are happy with all aspects of their life. Well, I’m not happy with my weight, or my food choices 100% of the time. Today for lunch I’m having a turkey sandwich and apple sauce, when I actually want to be having Yang’s and a diet Dr. Pepper. I went for the healthier choice, not so much because I wanted to, but because I felt like I had to. Because I felt like if I broke my resolution I would have wasted the last four or five weeks. And since I had been feeling rather UnZen lately, I figured maintaining some sort of consistency (eating a healthy lunch) would get me refocused. It sort of has, but mostly I’m thinking about Teriyaki chicken right now. I do believe this shall pass however. And once again, I’ll be full speed ahead on the road to Zen.

Slump

I've been feeling kind of un-Zen lately. And by lately I mean since about Friday afternoon, around 2. I don't really know why, I mean, my weekend was awesome and jam-packed with excitement, but for some reason things felt off. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the total disregard for my healthier food choices, maybe it was the fact that my left arm was in Memphis having the time of her life.

Whatever the reason, things felt strange all weekend. I felt spastic but tired, busy but bored, non-contemplative, unfocused, and kind of blah. Since I've started this Road to Zen I've done a lot of self-reflection and self-contemplation, looking for my inner peace and balance, aiming for calm and serenity over overwhelmed and depressed. But my mind would slip, and focus on things I don't want to care about anymore. I don't want to care that I don't have a boyfriend. I don't want to care that potato skins covered in cheese and sour cream taste better than a glass of water and pita chips. I don't want to care that I don't know what I'm going to do when I graduate.

That's really been bothering me. I've tried to maintain a fairly spontaneous and flexible lifestyle, while holding on to my driven nature, but I feel a conflict emerging. Spontaneity is not a fan of my Life Goal To Do list. And my Life Goal To Do list thinks spontaneity is a crack whore. This inner battle, inner struggle, down right war between the two, is throwing off my Zen. And when my Zen is out of whack, I find myself thinking about those other things I don't want to think about. I want to be happy being single. I want to make the healthy choice naturally. I want to tell my friends when they hurt my feelings or are being passive aggressive. I don't want to think that being single is a bad thing. I don't want to choose french fries over cottage cheese. I don't want to talk shit because my feelings are hurt.

This sucks. Zen is tough. It's tough to find, tough to keep, tough to live...I need a Zen maintenance man to come fix my broken peace and realign my balance.

Fresh Ink

I’m fully committed. Fully committed to finding My Zen, maintaining it, and utterly incorporating it into my lifestyle. That’s right, I got inked. Animus Corpus Spiritus – Mind Body Spirit. In finding My Zen, I believe unifying mind, body, and spirit is essential. Sound mind, healthy body, and good spirit. That, and tattoos make me look like a bad ass.

If I ever feel myself slipping, I can just gently remind myself of my goal by glancing over my shoulder (while looking in the mirror). Or better yet, have some stranger ask me what it means, to which I will be forced to reply “Mind Body Spirit. It’s my bad ass resolution. I’m on the road to Zen.”

Diet is a Four Letter Word

Nothing tastes as good as thin feels. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips (thighs, stomach, ass, whatever). Fight hunger. Starve for perfection. You are what you eat. And my personal favorite – You can’t spell diet without DIE.

Diets don’t work. At least, that’s what the weight watchers commercials tell me. And it’s true! Look at the phrases associated with diets. Go ahead, take a nice long look. It’s phrases like these that cause woman who would otherwise be perfectly happy, comfortable and possibly confident in their bodies to run screaming from the cookie isle – only to wind up down there two weeks later, because they just can’t kick the habit.

Nothing tastes as good as thin feels. So, what? I’m giving up all food? A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. Read subtext: it tastes good now, but you’ll hate yourself later. Fight hunger. Since when is eating a war? You get my point.

Part of My Zen is balance. A *gasp* balanced diet falls into this category. What’s a balanced diet mean though? Depriving myself of calories to fit into those skinny jeans? Running three miles for every donut I indulge in? Saying NO to all bad foods? Question: What is a bad food? A brownie that hijacked my car and stole my wallet? A side of fries that’s facing 25-life for murdering an eggplant?

I stepped on the scale this morning, feeling thin, confident, and excited to see what progress I had made. (Note: progress in this context is derrived from the idea that if the number on the scale is lower than when I started my road to Zen, I have somehow found a way to calculate and measure success) I peeked down to see what the blaring red numbers would tell me – one pound. One FUCKING pound. I haven’t eaten fast food in 10 days, I’m doing yoga an average of four times a week, I’m eating vegetables for Christ’s sake! And I’ve only lost a pound. I was so pissed off I started making excuses – Well, I did have a tall glass of water right before bed, maybe it’s water weight. Maybe I was standing funny so the reading was off. I did have that cookie at 10, maybe my stomach’s just clinging to those calories for…sport.

Okay, time for a self-intervention. Why am I getting so upset over one pound? Isn’t this supposed to be about turning over a healthy leaf, not about shedding massive amounts of weight? And hey, some people really struggle to loose one pound in a week, and here I am, pissed off that it wasn’t enough. What did I expect? That my body would be in such shock to not have its weekly (sometimes twice a week) bacon burrito or bacon waffle or BLT (hold the T) that I would be pulling numbers like the contestants on the biggest loser? Congratulations Casey, you’ve lost 18 pounds this week, how does that make you feel?

I had to talk myself down, stop beating myself up, and remind myself what’s really important – balance, peace, calm, serenity, Zen. I feel better at the beginning of this week than I did last week. A little more fit, making better food choices, more aware of being hungry versus bored. I refuse to let myself become/remain a woman whose self-efficacy is based on a number. Maybe I should throw out my scale…

Installment Three

I figure step one on the road to Zen would be to figure out what exactly Zen was. So I did what any self-respecting graduate student would do – I looked it up on dictionary.com. I found two definitions, neither of which could give me a concise answer to my question.

Zen
Noun, Chinese, Buddhism
1.) A school of Mahayana Buddhism that asserts that enlightenment can be attained through meditation, self-contemplation, and intuition rather than through faith and devotion and that is practiced mainly in China, Japan, Korea and Vietnam.
2.) The discipline and practice of this sect. See also, Zen Buddhism.
Zen Buddhism
Noun
1.) Zen.

Well that was helpful.

I decided to put my $40K graduate school education to good use and dissect the dictionary definition as much as possible to figure out where exactly I’m headed on this expedition. Enlightenment, meditation, self-contemplation and intuition. Hm. Enlightenment of what? Meditate how? This finding Zen thing is a lot harder without a road map. Which intuition exit do I take? Is that a left down self-contemplation, or a right? Enlightenment highway South bound or North bound?

During this quest of defining Zen I became tired and thirsty, so I broke down and paid the $5 my office immorally charges to use the water cooler (which by the way, is outrageous and very un-Zen). And maybe that’s the key. Maybe I can’t find the definition of Zen in a dictionary because there is no exact definition. Maybe it’s something that must be discovered on a more personal level. Self-contemplation and intuition are two buzzwords when it comes to all things Zen, maybe my answer lays in there. Or maybe I need a new question: What is my Zen?

*Me versus The*

I think the road to Zen needs to be personal. Therefore from now on, when referring to all things Zen, I shall use first person. MY way, MY enlightenment, MY meditation, MY self-contemplation. MY choice, MY lifestyle, MY peace, MY journey, MY road. After all, it is MY Zen, right?

So what exactly is MY Zen? I think it’s time for a little word association, don’t you? Hey if it worked for Freud…

Zen:
Balance
Peace
Calm
Serenity
Monk
Dahli Lamma
Karma
Ooh! Those cute little Zen gardens they sell at Target! With the sand and the rocks and that little rake (Okay, this is getting out of hand)

My road to Zen shall include stops at Balance Junction, Peace City, Calm Town, and Serenity Lake (Oh dear.) Okay that was cheesy. But it’s something to think about, to consider, to mull over if you will. Embarking on a journey without knowing exactly what or where the destination is putting all faith in yourself. What the word Zen means to me, or brings to my agile mind, is what I need to achieve/experience/attain/endure (Whatever!) in order to reach Zen. Maybe my difficulty in defining Zen is due to its shifting definition for each person. And defining MY Zen can be done in four little words: Balance, Peace, Calm and Serenity.

Namaste

I used to be athletic. It’s true. But somewhere along my way, fitness and I just weren’t working out. We had to break up. I was cheating on it with fatty food and laziness. But every now and then fitness and I run into each other, we chat, and there’s chemistry just like old times…then laziness stops by, and its seduction is just too hard to resist.

I found myself last night putting off doing my yoga routine for no apparent reason. I was a little tired, a little hungry, and frankly listening to my Zune and filling out MySpace surveys sounded a lot more appealing than downward dog. So I made myself a light dinner (okay, I cheated, it was a frozen entrée and rice) and sat down to finish watching an episode of the Sopranos. About five minutes into the show and three bites into my meal, I felt guilty. Five days into the New Year and I’m already giving up? This is not a philosophy I want to live by.

So I put on my yoga pants, rolled out my mat, and kicked my cat out of the apartment. 10 minutes into the routine I noticed I was holding warrior two stronger than I had been in the past. I was even able to do the side plank pose unmodified! I was hit with a rush of adrenaline. I could feel my muscles working hard to support my body, my heart rate increasing, the calories burning, there may have even been a bead of precipitation forming along my hairline (I wouldn’t know, I don’t really sweat).

Afterward, I felt amazing. I was left with that natural high you can really only achieve by knowing you just kicked your own ass. Finally I have felt the benefits of exercise without the pain of sore muscles, the cost of gym memberships, or the embarrassment of being out of breath six steps into a jog. Yoga has brought me peace with fitness. Sorry laziness, it’s over between you and me.

Installment One

A shout out to my sister for giving me inspiration. She is (as it appears) documenting her year upholding her resolution via the blogging world. I’ve decided to give it a try, how hard can it be?

Just about every year, the day after Christmas (or sometimes during the weeks before), I think about which resolution I’ll make, keep up for three weeks, and then eventually ditch for something more fun like drinking. This year was no different.

I decided it was high time I became more physically active. I hate people who sit around and bitch about not having the body they wish they had, as they turn on the John and Kate Plus 8 marathon on TLC and remain sedentary for the next eight hours, and sadly I had become one of them. And so it began – my new year’s resolution to be more active. I decided to stick with the vague concept at first, my way of cheating myself into thinking I’ve actually upheld my resolution throughout the year by not defining what “more active” means.

But what sort of physical activity would I introduce into my lifestyle? Walking? Too cold. Running? Too intense. Swimming? Haha, yeah right. So, what? I needed something indoors, at-home available, that would burn fat and tone muscle without me having to do too much. And then I thought about my sister. She’s done yoga off and on for a few years now, and loves it. Perfect! I was set. I recruited my BFF to become a yoga master with me – “Oh! I’ve always wanted to carry a yoga mat around and be like, Yeah, I totally do yoga.”

But, like all of my scathingly brilliant ideas, things evolved. Suddenly just adding physical activity wasn’t enough anymore (and of course by this time it had finalized itself to ‘doing yoga every morning’), I had to actually change something. While watching TLC’s documentary on super morbidly obese people – Half Ton Dad – two things dawned on me: A.) Tight yoga bodies don’t form overnight and B.) I eat WAY too much fast food. I quickly put my cognitive behavior counseling skills to work and assessed patterns in my fast food consumption – when I eat it, where I eat, how much – and discovered two things: 1.) I eat it when I’m suddenly hungry and can’t find a prepared snack within arms reach, or can’t be ‘hassled’ with preparing a lunch to take to work and 2.) The amount I consume per visit had increased. Yup, I was on my way to having my own TLC documentary – The Fatal Bite: The story of a young woman who ate herself to death. This of course did not stop me from finishing the bacon burrito I had just purchased.

So now I had resolved to add physical activity and cease fast food consumption. But still I needed more. Well, needed is a strong word. I felt diet and exercise are really the most cliché resolutions anyone could come up with, so I had to do something different. I added notions like ‘write more’, ‘keep my house clean’, ‘cook healthier food’, and ‘spend less time wasted on sites like Facebook and more time with the three dimensional people’. Basically, better my life.

And so my resolution entered its final stage of evolution: This year, will be my year of Zen. (Okay, really, it’s my year of trying to find Zen/maintaining Zen/figuring out what the hell Zen really is).

Thus, I have concocted this blog to aid in my maintenance of my resolution (which has a sub-resolution of: keeping a resolution for a whole year). I call it: The Road to Zen. I have some concerns with the title of course – feeling the word ‘Road’ suggests I believe this will be easy, or that I will find Zen like a hitchhiker on the side of the highway. But at the same time, ‘Path’ seems too short term, too impermanent. There is something about the concrete of a road that seems a fitting metaphor. Not to mention the appealing sleekness of freshly paved blacktop and the seductive suggestion of getting my kicks on route 66. Plus, think of the photograph for the book cover! (What? I dream big.)

So there you have it. This blog will be my documentation of my travels down The Road to Zen. What exactly that will encompass, I’m still not sure.