Over the last year I’ve noticed that my tolerance level for people behaving badly has significantly increased. Maybe it is in part because I am getting older, or maybe it’s happening because of all the yoga and meditation, or maybe it’s both. Nevertheless, I find myself either ignoring or laughing at behavior that would have previously fired me up and led me into some kind of confrontation. In the worst cases, when I do have a strong negative reaction to someone’s behavior, I’m at least not saying the inappropriate things I’m thinking (well most of the time). The first step, one of my Buddhist friends told me, is to just not say it out loud. Every person, no matter how annoying or mean, has some goodness in them, some light that wants to shine through, but for whatever reason they are failing at the moment to “let their little light shine.” I know I have my bad days just like everyone else, where I am self-involved and do something rude, or I am just down and have trouble being present with others. One of the goals of yoga is to become aware of our thoughts and behavior, to witness our own consciousness and be able to manage these highs and lows, to be aware of the good and the bad within ourselves along with accepting this in others. In yoga we are practicing being present in the moment, not just present with the people we are with, but present with our own thoughts, watching from a place of silence and centeredness.
When I was dropping my oldest daughter off at school the other morning, I realized that I had forgotten to tell her something, and so she was standing outside leaning toward the window listening to me. She had been upset about something, and I wanted to give her one more motherly word on the subject. I made a point of pulling tightly into the curb so that the other parents could get around me easily in the parking lot. Despite the fact that there was plenty of room to go around me, the woman behind me started honking her horn and glaring at my daughter. I looked in the rear view mirror to see this woman’s angry face gesturing and honking. The other parents dropping off their kids just pulled around and drove off, no problem. Still, this woman insisted on being belligerent. I pulled up even more onto the curb, thinking maybe she’d pulled in too tightly to turn out, but no, that wasn’t it, she was just pissed that I wasn’t following procedure. She was going nuts back there. Yes, it would have been better if I had just dropped my daughter off and kept going, but sometimes kids need an extra word. Meanwhile, the rest of the parents are easily passing by on our left, looking over to see what all the honking was about. This whole scene went down in about 15 seconds.
In the past I would have become agitated and upset by the woman’s aggressive behavior. I’m not saying that I didn’t react. I did react, but I made the decision to not act. Sometimes we have to just work on not saying things out loud, even though we are reacting on the inside. In the past, I would have acted on my urge to get out of the car and posture. The thought also occurred to me that in my youth I would have gotten out of the car and sat on the hood, maybe opening a soda and enjoying myself, not moving. The temptation was there to give her the bird out the window. This time, I am proud to report that I did not give her the bird, nor did I roll down the window and yell, “WTF you crazy BIT@#!” I just sat there, relaxed, thinking these “bad” things, and then I heard myself think, “wow, that woman really needs some yoga.” I resisted the urge to get out of my car and flyer her windshield with the yoga schedule (the passive aggressive, I’m more enlightened than you are option). My daughter was intimidated of course, so I told her, “don’t look at her. Just ignore her. She is having a bad day, and that is her stuff.” It really didn’t have anything to do with us. The woman dramatically wheeled around us, continuing to glare and honk. I said to my daughter, “somebody forgot to eat their Goji berries this morning!”
This last weekend, I was teaching to a group of people who are working towards becoming yoga teachers themselves. I wanted to give them my take on yoga teachers behaving badly, most specifically famous teachers. Yoga people love their rockstar yogis, and they don’t want to consider the truth that they are real people with faults. For my readers who don’t do yoga, the phenomenon is similar to how some church members put their pastor up on a pedestal and then are crushed when they find out he’s been engaging in something unbecoming of a pastor. It can be something as simple as witnessing the pastor yell at his kids disrespectfully or the more egregious sin of having an affair with someone in the congregation. Many famous yoga teachers have had affairs with people in their “congregations,” just like we hear about with pastors.
Does this make null everything we’ve learned from them before we learned of their faults and indiscretions? No. Just like all of us, spiritual teachers have their dark night of the soul experiences, those periods of time when they do not feel the divine within them and begin searching in the wrong places to fill their needs. A person can be an amazing orator one day, and then in the next not follow her own teachings and act selfishly. As yoga students, our best protection against disappointment is not to idolize the teachers in the first place. By fawning over the teacher in order to get into the “inner circle” students are not only at risk of being taken advantage of by the yogi – they are most likely not following their own dharma or calling. The comparison to church life is overwhelmingly similar – always, there is the couple trying to get into the pastor’s inner circle, only to be disappointed when they find out he gets drunk on Saturdays while watching Nascar and yells at his wife from the couch to bring more beers. The way I see it, we all have to take turns being each other’s teachers, because sometimes we connect to the spirit within us, and sometimes we don’t. We have to look for the light in one another, and try to accept the darkness when it is present. Sometimes we need others to help lead us to the light within ourselves, someone to walk with us on our journey for awhile. In the end though, a good teacher lets you walk on your own path after he has helped you, quietly returning down his path. If you look back and see him ducking into a questionable pub, just grin and keep walking. He did his job, now it’s your turn.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Knock on the Door of your Heart
I am again this year taking a lot of calls and e-mails concerning the tradition of the New Year’s Resolution. If people make any resolutions at all, it is often about weight loss. Maybe this is due to all the marketing this time of year for creating the “new you” in the new year or just a reflection of our obsession with skinny bodies as a culture. Part of my job as a yoga teacher and studio owner is to take all of these calls and attempt to stay present with people as they tell me, that this time, this time, they are going to change their lifestyle. I’ve got to make them believe that I believe them, because maybe they will succeed. Maybe they are the one person in twenty who will follow through and do it. And I am the person they are saying it to out loud, so I have to do my best to stay with it. I must admit that by the end of January, I begin to struggle with it, because it takes a lot of spiritual energy and attention to stay focused on all the stories that people tell me. I’m not complaining though. I do like the job.
Still, I can’t help feeling that something important is missing in all these resolutions. Last year, I contemplated why some people keep their resolutions to take better care of themselves and some don’t. This year, I’m starting to wonder if maybe we are all just making the wrong resolutions. I shared my thoughts on this with a friend of mine who is a pastor, and he said, “How come no one makes the resolution to get closer to God this year?” Of course he said that, it’s his job, and he did make me laugh. His comment sent me to the internet in search of the history of New Year’s Resolutions. It turns out these resolutions have been around for thousands of years, but they used to be of a much more spiritual nature.
What are we actually thinking and feeling when we say, “I’m going to exercise and lose weight this year”? Most people who make this resolution and start telling their friends are most likely thinking negative thoughts about their bodies and themselves. For such an out of shape and dormant society, we have an odd obsession with overly skinny, ripped bodies. These images, both male and female, on TV and in magazines are ridiculously unrealistic. But even though we know this, we still compare ourselves continually to them, whether we admit it or not.
What I sense when I talk with people is a deeper unhappiness about their bodies and themselves. Clearly, eating better and exercising is a great goal and will definitely improve quality of life, but it won’t necessarily make a person happy. We can’t put off choosing to be happy until we have a slender, in-shape body. We have to figure out how to be happy with what we have now, even if what we have now is a far cry from some magazine picture.
I can hear what some of my readers, who know me, are thinking right about now. “Easy for you to say, skinny chick!” Yes, that is right, I’ve always been a skinny chick. But I’m telling you right now, and this is important, being skinny doesn’t make you happy. Just go back into this blog and read, and you’ll find that skinny girls have their demons just like everyone else. As women, we need to let go of any thoughts that the perfect body will make us happy.
How can we learn to be happy with whatever we have, even if it’s getting older and fatter and going south? It is easier said than done, but I believe it can be done. I don’t think the answer will be found by extreme exercising or eating twigs. It’s more likely that we’ll find it sitting on our mat or cushion and being quiet, and following the breath. What? Learn to be happy with my body by not doing anything other than sitting on my butt? Yes.
As we practice yoga and meditation, we begin to witness our own minds. We begin to hear our minds chattering. What is your mind saying about your body? Would you say these awful things to anyone else? Why then say them to yourself? Becoming aware of these thoughts isn’t going to stop them, but we can learn to just let them go on by and give them less weight. We are not our thoughts, and we are not our bodies.
Although all the marketing of “body as temple” has jaded us, it is based in the truth that we can find the Spirit through and in the body. I believe the body is a sacred vessel for the Spirit, and if we begin to feel connected to our bodies and the beauty and mystery of them, we begin to make the journey out of the cycle of negative self-talk. Often we abuse our bodies in our quest to fill the spirit. As humans we often want more, when we feel empty inside or unfulfilled, and we want to find a way to fill that emptiness. Sometimes we look to food to fill this inner yearning. When the mind is quiet, we become less thirsty and less hungry. In 2010, let the Spirit fill you from the inside. Sit and knock on the door of your heart.
- Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live. -Jonathan Edwards, 1723
Still, I can’t help feeling that something important is missing in all these resolutions. Last year, I contemplated why some people keep their resolutions to take better care of themselves and some don’t. This year, I’m starting to wonder if maybe we are all just making the wrong resolutions. I shared my thoughts on this with a friend of mine who is a pastor, and he said, “How come no one makes the resolution to get closer to God this year?” Of course he said that, it’s his job, and he did make me laugh. His comment sent me to the internet in search of the history of New Year’s Resolutions. It turns out these resolutions have been around for thousands of years, but they used to be of a much more spiritual nature.
What are we actually thinking and feeling when we say, “I’m going to exercise and lose weight this year”? Most people who make this resolution and start telling their friends are most likely thinking negative thoughts about their bodies and themselves. For such an out of shape and dormant society, we have an odd obsession with overly skinny, ripped bodies. These images, both male and female, on TV and in magazines are ridiculously unrealistic. But even though we know this, we still compare ourselves continually to them, whether we admit it or not.
What I sense when I talk with people is a deeper unhappiness about their bodies and themselves. Clearly, eating better and exercising is a great goal and will definitely improve quality of life, but it won’t necessarily make a person happy. We can’t put off choosing to be happy until we have a slender, in-shape body. We have to figure out how to be happy with what we have now, even if what we have now is a far cry from some magazine picture.
I can hear what some of my readers, who know me, are thinking right about now. “Easy for you to say, skinny chick!” Yes, that is right, I’ve always been a skinny chick. But I’m telling you right now, and this is important, being skinny doesn’t make you happy. Just go back into this blog and read, and you’ll find that skinny girls have their demons just like everyone else. As women, we need to let go of any thoughts that the perfect body will make us happy.
How can we learn to be happy with whatever we have, even if it’s getting older and fatter and going south? It is easier said than done, but I believe it can be done. I don’t think the answer will be found by extreme exercising or eating twigs. It’s more likely that we’ll find it sitting on our mat or cushion and being quiet, and following the breath. What? Learn to be happy with my body by not doing anything other than sitting on my butt? Yes.
As we practice yoga and meditation, we begin to witness our own minds. We begin to hear our minds chattering. What is your mind saying about your body? Would you say these awful things to anyone else? Why then say them to yourself? Becoming aware of these thoughts isn’t going to stop them, but we can learn to just let them go on by and give them less weight. We are not our thoughts, and we are not our bodies.
Although all the marketing of “body as temple” has jaded us, it is based in the truth that we can find the Spirit through and in the body. I believe the body is a sacred vessel for the Spirit, and if we begin to feel connected to our bodies and the beauty and mystery of them, we begin to make the journey out of the cycle of negative self-talk. Often we abuse our bodies in our quest to fill the spirit. As humans we often want more, when we feel empty inside or unfulfilled, and we want to find a way to fill that emptiness. Sometimes we look to food to fill this inner yearning. When the mind is quiet, we become less thirsty and less hungry. In 2010, let the Spirit fill you from the inside. Sit and knock on the door of your heart.
- Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live. -Jonathan Edwards, 1723
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas Eve and Ginger Ale
Christmas vacation has started and my kids are wound up. They got onto my Netflix account last night and watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and now I’m either hearing the songs from Chitty Chitty or some random Christmas carol. I don’t want to be a Grinch already, but the combination is really getting to me. Some simple math here: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang + the 12 days of Christmas = Rum.
A few years ago I sent out an e-mail before the holidays that encouraged people to try mini meditations during those sometimes joyous and other times difficult family gatherings. I also suggested occasionally hiding in the bathroom, because no one is going to bother you in there – or ask you any probing questions. One problem with this suggestion: kids will actually sit outside the bathroom and talk to you. No matter who we are or what kind of family we have, lets be honest, there is dysfunction. The families that appear to be perfect are often the ones that turn out to be the craziest. So if things get crazy at your family gathering this year, try to take a deep breath and remember that you have a choice of how you react to what is happening around you. You can choose to just sit quietly, ignore, and say nothing. It turns out that silence is very powerful. If you don’t say anything, everyone thinks you agree with them.
As I’ve shared before on this blog, my family puts the fun back into dysFUNctional. For as long as I can remember, there has always been some kind of crazy behind the scenes thing going on. The adults think the kids don’t know, but oh yes, we most certainly did. When I was about 9, I sensed that something was going on with my parents and grandparents. It all started to become clear to me with the continual serving of the ginger ale and giggling going on in the kitchen. My mom never bought ginger ale. I didn’t really like it. Yet every time we’d go to Grandma’s house and Great Grandma was there, we’d all be drinking ginger ale. So I thought, what’s up with the ginger ale? Nine year-olds want to know the answers to these kinds of questions.
Christmas gatherings at my grandmothers were always a bit fancy. She knew how to entertain and we kids were expected to behave like ladies and gentlemen – even though we had to sit at “the kids” table. I was required to wear this red velvet dress that itched and little black patent shoes. My great grandmother fascinated me and I would sit next to her in awe. She would look down at me with intensity. Her crooked fingers still worked, and she played cards with me while we drank our ginger ale. She evidently liked ginger ale. Maybe that is why we always had it? Wiggling my way into the kitchen one Christmas Eve, I saw my mother grinning while my grandfather was pouring some stuff into her glass of ginger ale. Then he put the bottle back into the cabinet, and they both started giggling. I thought to myself, wow, the kitchen is kind of interesting. Maybe I’ll hang out for awhile. Grandma started giving me snacks, assuming that I was in there because I was hungry. My dad came in, and Grampa did the same thing! He pulled the bottle out of the cabinet and poured some of it into my dad’s ginger ale. I started to get the picture. Years later, I found out that Great Grandmother did not approve of liquor and had poured out all my grandfather’s liquor when she first visited my newly wedded grandparents in the early ‘30s. So while she was with us, everyone drank “ginger ale” and the liquor bottles were hidden safely away.
The whole “kids table” experience pretty much sucked for me because I was the only girl. Of all the cousins, I was it, the only little girl. It was like eating with a pack of wolves. You’d better get what you want, and you’d better be ready to hit someone who attempts to take your roll. I’d tried the crying and complaining to my mother routine when I was 5 and 6, and this just excited the pack and they’d laugh at me. There is actually a photo of me sitting between my brother and my cousin Craig. I’m crying and they are both evilly laughing at me. Boys can really suck sometimes. So I got tough and started knocking some heads, and by the time I was 9 there was no problem anymore. However, I still had to endure eating with them. The smacking, the belching, the “see food” routine, the mixing up of the food, the daring others to eat gross concoctions, yes, I would see it all. One of my little cousins however was sweeter, and perhaps not as smart as the others, and he would sometimes get picked on by the pack. His only defense was his sense of humor. If he could keep them laughing, then everything would stay on an even keel.
One Christmas eve the Swedish meat balls turned out, well, kind of hard. Just imagine what a pack of boys would do with a bunch of hard, overcooked meat balls. The situation began to roll out of control, and the little guy held his knife up high and blurted out, “this meatball can stand up to anything” and with a dramatic pause draws the knife down onto the plate with a big “KEEE-YAWWWW!” Nothing happened to the meatball, and everybody busted out laughing. All the parents drinking “ginger ale” start calling from the dining room as to what was going on. I’ve never seen boys pick up meatballs that fast. They sat down quickly as my uncle walked over and gave us all the eye. Luckily, he didn’t notice the one lonely meatball that was still sitting in the ashtray on the mantel.
A few years ago I sent out an e-mail before the holidays that encouraged people to try mini meditations during those sometimes joyous and other times difficult family gatherings. I also suggested occasionally hiding in the bathroom, because no one is going to bother you in there – or ask you any probing questions. One problem with this suggestion: kids will actually sit outside the bathroom and talk to you. No matter who we are or what kind of family we have, lets be honest, there is dysfunction. The families that appear to be perfect are often the ones that turn out to be the craziest. So if things get crazy at your family gathering this year, try to take a deep breath and remember that you have a choice of how you react to what is happening around you. You can choose to just sit quietly, ignore, and say nothing. It turns out that silence is very powerful. If you don’t say anything, everyone thinks you agree with them.
As I’ve shared before on this blog, my family puts the fun back into dysFUNctional. For as long as I can remember, there has always been some kind of crazy behind the scenes thing going on. The adults think the kids don’t know, but oh yes, we most certainly did. When I was about 9, I sensed that something was going on with my parents and grandparents. It all started to become clear to me with the continual serving of the ginger ale and giggling going on in the kitchen. My mom never bought ginger ale. I didn’t really like it. Yet every time we’d go to Grandma’s house and Great Grandma was there, we’d all be drinking ginger ale. So I thought, what’s up with the ginger ale? Nine year-olds want to know the answers to these kinds of questions.
Christmas gatherings at my grandmothers were always a bit fancy. She knew how to entertain and we kids were expected to behave like ladies and gentlemen – even though we had to sit at “the kids” table. I was required to wear this red velvet dress that itched and little black patent shoes. My great grandmother fascinated me and I would sit next to her in awe. She would look down at me with intensity. Her crooked fingers still worked, and she played cards with me while we drank our ginger ale. She evidently liked ginger ale. Maybe that is why we always had it? Wiggling my way into the kitchen one Christmas Eve, I saw my mother grinning while my grandfather was pouring some stuff into her glass of ginger ale. Then he put the bottle back into the cabinet, and they both started giggling. I thought to myself, wow, the kitchen is kind of interesting. Maybe I’ll hang out for awhile. Grandma started giving me snacks, assuming that I was in there because I was hungry. My dad came in, and Grampa did the same thing! He pulled the bottle out of the cabinet and poured some of it into my dad’s ginger ale. I started to get the picture. Years later, I found out that Great Grandmother did not approve of liquor and had poured out all my grandfather’s liquor when she first visited my newly wedded grandparents in the early ‘30s. So while she was with us, everyone drank “ginger ale” and the liquor bottles were hidden safely away.
The whole “kids table” experience pretty much sucked for me because I was the only girl. Of all the cousins, I was it, the only little girl. It was like eating with a pack of wolves. You’d better get what you want, and you’d better be ready to hit someone who attempts to take your roll. I’d tried the crying and complaining to my mother routine when I was 5 and 6, and this just excited the pack and they’d laugh at me. There is actually a photo of me sitting between my brother and my cousin Craig. I’m crying and they are both evilly laughing at me. Boys can really suck sometimes. So I got tough and started knocking some heads, and by the time I was 9 there was no problem anymore. However, I still had to endure eating with them. The smacking, the belching, the “see food” routine, the mixing up of the food, the daring others to eat gross concoctions, yes, I would see it all. One of my little cousins however was sweeter, and perhaps not as smart as the others, and he would sometimes get picked on by the pack. His only defense was his sense of humor. If he could keep them laughing, then everything would stay on an even keel.
One Christmas eve the Swedish meat balls turned out, well, kind of hard. Just imagine what a pack of boys would do with a bunch of hard, overcooked meat balls. The situation began to roll out of control, and the little guy held his knife up high and blurted out, “this meatball can stand up to anything” and with a dramatic pause draws the knife down onto the plate with a big “KEEE-YAWWWW!” Nothing happened to the meatball, and everybody busted out laughing. All the parents drinking “ginger ale” start calling from the dining room as to what was going on. I’ve never seen boys pick up meatballs that fast. They sat down quickly as my uncle walked over and gave us all the eye. Luckily, he didn’t notice the one lonely meatball that was still sitting in the ashtray on the mantel.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
EatSpicy
Recently, my youngest contracted the swine flu, and I spent the better part of a week taking care of her. When the kids get sick, life sort of comes to a standstill. Appointments get canceled and nothing gets done, except maybe some housework when they are sleeping. I move into full-time mom mode, checking temperatures, keeping track of doses of Tylenol and Motrin, and pushing fluids. It is hard to convince kids to take fluids. I keep hearing myself say, “drink your water, little sips of water!” The vomiting, well, you just get used to that as a mom. I remember that before I had kids, if I saw someone else even act like they were going to be sick, I would feel sick … and if possible would get away from the person as soon as possible. Now when someone vomits, I go and hang out with them with no ill effects. I talk to them while they are puking:
“Do you need a washcloth?”
“Are you done, or is there more?”
“It’ll be ok, it’ll stop in awhile”
“Just relax and let it all come out….”
They can even puke on me, and I will have no reaction. My daughter pointed out after one round that the big white plastic bowl I’d given her to throw up in was also the big white plastic bowl in which I made brownies. She thought this was kind of funny. The discovery that she felt a lot better right after vomiting pleased her, and she naturally focused on this, popping up off the couch to check her Webkinz account between rounds.
Kids don’t like to be alone when they are sick. Those first rides through a bad virus can be kind of scary. So even though I would attempt to go and do some laundry or clean the kitchen, she would realize I’d left and start calling, “come and sit with me mom!”
I finally had to just “give-in,” as we say in the mom business, and accept the fact that I was going to get nothing done. I was in the living room with a large iced tea, my iPhone, a bottle of Purell, and daytime TV. I’m not really a TV person. I just don’t have much time to watch, and most of it bores me within about 15 minutes (yes, I’m ADHD even with TV). What I did find interesting was all the ads on daytime TV – especially all the weight loss ads. The amount of money being spent on ads for weight loss pills, diets, and diet plans is mind boggling. The diet business is evidently an over $35 billion per year industry. That’s billion, not million, according to CBS news.
People sit at home on the couch watching daytime TV, most likely snacking, and then in mass ($35 billion worth) buy various dieting products. After the 20th Jenny Craig ad, bad Becca started thinking how she could get into this racket and make a buck. My first idea was an electronic device that turned the channel to a diet station which would broadcast in Cecil B DeMille’s voice the message, “get your butt off the couch and go walk around the block!” If they tried to change the channel the device would administer an electric shock. Realizing that this was cruel and that most people would never install the machine, I moved on to my next plan, the EatSpicyTM diet.
With the EatSpicyTM plan, you’ll have more energy that you have in years! No measuring or calorie counting with EatSpicyTM, no boxes of dehydrated food. Our plan is simple and it works due to ancient south American secrets that only now have been discovered by European scientists. Simply add spiciness, such as cayenne pepper, jalapeños, red pepper flakes, Indian or thai curry, Mexican hot sauce, or hot salsa to your food and burn extra calories with every bite! The spicier the better. When you eat spicy food, this raises the internal temperature of your endocrine system, which regulates the release of cortisol and serotonin. The spicier you eat the less cortisol is produced, and this reduces the amount of belly fat that you produce. Due to the energy your system must produce for digestion, you’ll burn 30% more calories after eating spicy food rather than bland boring food. Our special hot sauces and curries have been specially formulated to maximize the effects on your endocrine system to help you lose weight fast and keep it off. Call now, and order our EatSpicyTM Curry Pack and receive the EatSpicyTM Hot Sauces totally free! Call today and lose weight the natural spicy way!
“Do you need a washcloth?”
“Are you done, or is there more?”
“It’ll be ok, it’ll stop in awhile”
“Just relax and let it all come out….”
They can even puke on me, and I will have no reaction. My daughter pointed out after one round that the big white plastic bowl I’d given her to throw up in was also the big white plastic bowl in which I made brownies. She thought this was kind of funny. The discovery that she felt a lot better right after vomiting pleased her, and she naturally focused on this, popping up off the couch to check her Webkinz account between rounds.
Kids don’t like to be alone when they are sick. Those first rides through a bad virus can be kind of scary. So even though I would attempt to go and do some laundry or clean the kitchen, she would realize I’d left and start calling, “come and sit with me mom!”
I finally had to just “give-in,” as we say in the mom business, and accept the fact that I was going to get nothing done. I was in the living room with a large iced tea, my iPhone, a bottle of Purell, and daytime TV. I’m not really a TV person. I just don’t have much time to watch, and most of it bores me within about 15 minutes (yes, I’m ADHD even with TV). What I did find interesting was all the ads on daytime TV – especially all the weight loss ads. The amount of money being spent on ads for weight loss pills, diets, and diet plans is mind boggling. The diet business is evidently an over $35 billion per year industry. That’s billion, not million, according to CBS news.
People sit at home on the couch watching daytime TV, most likely snacking, and then in mass ($35 billion worth) buy various dieting products. After the 20th Jenny Craig ad, bad Becca started thinking how she could get into this racket and make a buck. My first idea was an electronic device that turned the channel to a diet station which would broadcast in Cecil B DeMille’s voice the message, “get your butt off the couch and go walk around the block!” If they tried to change the channel the device would administer an electric shock. Realizing that this was cruel and that most people would never install the machine, I moved on to my next plan, the EatSpicyTM diet.
With the EatSpicyTM plan, you’ll have more energy that you have in years! No measuring or calorie counting with EatSpicyTM, no boxes of dehydrated food. Our plan is simple and it works due to ancient south American secrets that only now have been discovered by European scientists. Simply add spiciness, such as cayenne pepper, jalapeños, red pepper flakes, Indian or thai curry, Mexican hot sauce, or hot salsa to your food and burn extra calories with every bite! The spicier the better. When you eat spicy food, this raises the internal temperature of your endocrine system, which regulates the release of cortisol and serotonin. The spicier you eat the less cortisol is produced, and this reduces the amount of belly fat that you produce. Due to the energy your system must produce for digestion, you’ll burn 30% more calories after eating spicy food rather than bland boring food. Our special hot sauces and curries have been specially formulated to maximize the effects on your endocrine system to help you lose weight fast and keep it off. Call now, and order our EatSpicyTM Curry Pack and receive the EatSpicyTM Hot Sauces totally free! Call today and lose weight the natural spicy way!
Before EatSpicyTM
After EatSpicyTM (Results not typical.)
Caution: Eating spicy food may cause you to drink alcohol, counteracting the EatSpicyTM effect.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Smart Kids Rule
Lately I’ve been frustrated at the lack of education I’m seeing all around me. It’s not just the people I interact with here in Oklahoma
I remember the first time I realized that some people lacked basic intelligence and critical thinking. It was at my mom’s garage sale, and I was 13 years old. We were hanging out in lawn chairs selling all sorts of random stuff and watching the parade of people. All sizes, shapes, races, and socioeconomic statuses were represented. I discovered that some wealthy people like to garage sale; I guess it is the joy of the hunt. I had been growing so fast that I’d outgrown some shoes that were barely worn, so my mom was trying to get a few bucks for them. A very large woman, with very large feet attempted to stick her foot into my old shoe. I stared at her, wondering what was wrong. Couldn’t she see that her feet were at least 3 sizes bigger than those shoes? Everyone else noticed and started looking around at each other and then tried not to look at each other for fear of laughing and hurting her feelings. Her heel hung off the edge of the shoe by quite a bit. She looked down with disappointment at her fully grown feet. Then she tried on the other shoe…. I watched the adults trying not to laugh at her. It was hard not to laugh, but at the same time I felt sorry for her. She didn’t appear to be mentally challenged; she just didn’t have a realistic concept of her foot size! The items she did want, she had trouble determining if she had enough money to buy. After she left I asked my mom, “what was wrong with her?” My mom grinned a little as said, “well you are old enough to know now, the world is filled with people that are not very smart.” Now I wonder if in fact the woman was high, and if my mother wasn’t really ready to explain that to me. But that still qualifies for the “not very smart” category.
I’m watching my daughters, who are now in public school, learning this same lesson. They finish their tests way before half the class, and sit and wait, and try to be patient. There is a lot of sitting and waiting and being patient in public school when you are the smart kid. Patience is a virtue though, and I think going to pubic school helps gifted kids learn to deal with the real world. In the real world, people don’t know how to add up basic numbers, and they don’t know how to determine who to listen to on the television. There is a fine line between helping those who are underprivileged or uneducated and patronizing them. When you are smart, and you are in public school, or maybe in public office, you have to learn to walk that line carefully.
I’ve been hearing quotes about “those stuck-up educated liberals, who think they know what is better for everyone else.” Who I hear in those remarks are the kids in my high school who hated the fact that no matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried, my friends and I out-scored them in the classroom. That didn’t mean we were better people. We just “got” school. I’ve been working with my oldest daughter to help her find this line between truly helping others, rather than dominating them. When she helps the other kids without ego, using her gifts to encourage and support rather than to “school” the other kids, they have learned to like and trust her, and in some cases look up to her. What if we had all done this in high school to help the others along, rather than leaving them in our wake? Maybe they would listen now when we told them who might be a good person to listen to on the TV.
I remember the first time I realized that some people lacked basic intelligence and critical thinking. It was at my mom’s garage sale, and I was 13 years old. We were hanging out in lawn chairs selling all sorts of random stuff and watching the parade of people. All sizes, shapes, races, and socioeconomic statuses were represented. I discovered that some wealthy people like to garage sale; I guess it is the joy of the hunt. I had been growing so fast that I’d outgrown some shoes that were barely worn, so my mom was trying to get a few bucks for them. A very large woman, with very large feet attempted to stick her foot into my old shoe. I stared at her, wondering what was wrong. Couldn’t she see that her feet were at least 3 sizes bigger than those shoes? Everyone else noticed and started looking around at each other and then tried not to look at each other for fear of laughing and hurting her feelings. Her heel hung off the edge of the shoe by quite a bit. She looked down with disappointment at her fully grown feet. Then she tried on the other shoe…. I watched the adults trying not to laugh at her. It was hard not to laugh, but at the same time I felt sorry for her. She didn’t appear to be mentally challenged; she just didn’t have a realistic concept of her foot size! The items she did want, she had trouble determining if she had enough money to buy. After she left I asked my mom, “what was wrong with her?” My mom grinned a little as said, “well you are old enough to know now, the world is filled with people that are not very smart.” Now I wonder if in fact the woman was high, and if my mother wasn’t really ready to explain that to me. But that still qualifies for the “not very smart” category.
I’m watching my daughters, who are now in public school, learning this same lesson. They finish their tests way before half the class, and sit and wait, and try to be patient. There is a lot of sitting and waiting and being patient in public school when you are the smart kid. Patience is a virtue though, and I think going to pubic school helps gifted kids learn to deal with the real world. In the real world, people don’t know how to add up basic numbers, and they don’t know how to determine who to listen to on the television. There is a fine line between helping those who are underprivileged or uneducated and patronizing them. When you are smart, and you are in public school, or maybe in public office, you have to learn to walk that line carefully.
I’ve been hearing quotes about “those stuck-up educated liberals, who think they know what is better for everyone else.” Who I hear in those remarks are the kids in my high school who hated the fact that no matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried, my friends and I out-scored them in the classroom. That didn’t mean we were better people. We just “got” school. I’ve been working with my oldest daughter to help her find this line between truly helping others, rather than dominating them. When she helps the other kids without ego, using her gifts to encourage and support rather than to “school” the other kids, they have learned to like and trust her, and in some cases look up to her. What if we had all done this in high school to help the others along, rather than leaving them in our wake? Maybe they would listen now when we told them who might be a good person to listen to on the TV.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
The Enemy Within
Slim and I started watching the original Star Trek series with our kids. We are on the first season now, about halfway through. There is not much I really want my kids to watch on prime time, and Star Trek certainly held my attention as a kid. My brother and I had the Star Trek toys even, and pretended to beam up to the Starship Enterprise. An argument always ensued among the boys as to who would be Spock and who would be Jim. Not to mention who would be the unknown security guy who beams down with the team and ends up dead in every episode.
I really enjoyed the 5th episode of the first season entitled, “The Enemy Within.” The transporter system goes awry, and Jim gets split up into two Jims. The good Jim and the bad Jim are both on the Enterprise vying for control. Bad Jim starts drinking and hitting on the women in miniskirt uniforms, along with making selfish and rash decisions. Good Jim tries to get control of events, but being so nice he starts to fail to get anything done. The more powerful the bad Jim becomes, the more everyone’s lives are in the balance. At some point, Spock and Bones realize that Good Jim just can’t run the Enterprise without Bad Jim. Bad Jim is part of what makes the whole Jim a great captain – as long as he is kept under control.
Why did I like this episode so much? I have been referring to an aspect of my personality as Bad Becca for some time now. Those who know me well have been laughing at my Bad Becca jokes for years. If some young, good looking guy walks by and I get caught looking at him, I say, “Bad Becca likes him.” If I say something funny at someone else’s expense, I’ll say, “Bad Becca said that.” It’s one of those gags you can’t pull too often, or it fails to be funny. But within reason, under some control of good Becca, Bad Becca can be quite hilarious. There are some situations, however, when I just have to lock Bad Becca up in the cage in the back of my head and tell her to be quiet. She rattles the cage sometimes, and I just have to laugh at myself.
We all have these internal battles – and sometimes it’s full-on ultimate fighting inside our heads. Some spiritual disciplines and practices work to get control of these “bad” thoughts to snuff out our evil desires. In the end though, I don’t think people succeed in this. Their personalities just get muted somehow. They practice themselves into some half shell of who they are meant to be, always in inner turmoil. In the end we are not our thoughts. It is our words and actions that define us.
At some point we have to accept ourselves as we truly are, broken somewhat into good and bad. Our best assets are also our worst. Bad Becca can be selfish, competitive, ambitious, rude, bossy, and judgmental. Without her fire though, I’m not sure I’d get much done. An old friend who knew Bad Becca well used to call me “Captain.” Even though she could be bossy and rude, he still couldn’t help liking her.
As I’ve practiced accepting myself as I truly am, a not so perfect girl, I’ve found the biggest reward is a growing acceptance of others. Lately I’ve found myself liking people that years ago I couldn’t stand to be around. Sometimes the bad stuff around the edges just makes people more interesting. Through our practices or spiritual beliefs we have to find a way to make peace with our enemy within.
I really enjoyed the 5th episode of the first season entitled, “The Enemy Within.” The transporter system goes awry, and Jim gets split up into two Jims. The good Jim and the bad Jim are both on the Enterprise vying for control. Bad Jim starts drinking and hitting on the women in miniskirt uniforms, along with making selfish and rash decisions. Good Jim tries to get control of events, but being so nice he starts to fail to get anything done. The more powerful the bad Jim becomes, the more everyone’s lives are in the balance. At some point, Spock and Bones realize that Good Jim just can’t run the Enterprise without Bad Jim. Bad Jim is part of what makes the whole Jim a great captain – as long as he is kept under control.
Why did I like this episode so much? I have been referring to an aspect of my personality as Bad Becca for some time now. Those who know me well have been laughing at my Bad Becca jokes for years. If some young, good looking guy walks by and I get caught looking at him, I say, “Bad Becca likes him.” If I say something funny at someone else’s expense, I’ll say, “Bad Becca said that.” It’s one of those gags you can’t pull too often, or it fails to be funny. But within reason, under some control of good Becca, Bad Becca can be quite hilarious. There are some situations, however, when I just have to lock Bad Becca up in the cage in the back of my head and tell her to be quiet. She rattles the cage sometimes, and I just have to laugh at myself.
We all have these internal battles – and sometimes it’s full-on ultimate fighting inside our heads. Some spiritual disciplines and practices work to get control of these “bad” thoughts to snuff out our evil desires. In the end though, I don’t think people succeed in this. Their personalities just get muted somehow. They practice themselves into some half shell of who they are meant to be, always in inner turmoil. In the end we are not our thoughts. It is our words and actions that define us.
At some point we have to accept ourselves as we truly are, broken somewhat into good and bad. Our best assets are also our worst. Bad Becca can be selfish, competitive, ambitious, rude, bossy, and judgmental. Without her fire though, I’m not sure I’d get much done. An old friend who knew Bad Becca well used to call me “Captain.” Even though she could be bossy and rude, he still couldn’t help liking her.
As I’ve practiced accepting myself as I truly am, a not so perfect girl, I’ve found the biggest reward is a growing acceptance of others. Lately I’ve found myself liking people that years ago I couldn’t stand to be around. Sometimes the bad stuff around the edges just makes people more interesting. Through our practices or spiritual beliefs we have to find a way to make peace with our enemy within.
Monday, May 25, 2009
The PURGE
All my mom friends are tired right now! The end of school activities are about to do us in, we need summer to be here. We need less time in the mini-van and more time at home (preferably with the kids playing outside). Remember when you were a kid and your mom started hollering “go play outside!”, or my favorite, “in or out!” We are at the end. We need no more activities or recitals or soccer games.
Today I went to get some plastic “glad”ware out of the cupboard to put away the pasta salad I had made. I found no plastic containers. Where are all the plastic containers, I pondered? Then I looked over at the fridge and realized…I’ve been so busy that I hadn’t done THE PURGE. You know - the refrigerator purge.
I’m embarrassed to say that I hadn’t purged in a long time, and well, it was pretty disgusting. I guess I just quit seeing it when I opened the fridge (where was Slim?). Luckily my kids are old enough I don’t have to worry about anyone actually trying to eat anything out of there! There comes a time in every girl’s life when she must learn from her mother those household tasks that she will be expected to do someday as a mother herself, because NO ONE ELSE will do them. This includes among other things: cleaning up puke, removing lice from hair, cutting someone else’s finger nails, putting away the clean laundry, changing the toilet paper rolls, and purging the fridge.
I called the girls in and began directing the purge. “Take out all the old plastic containers that look like they have dead food in them, and put them on the kitchen table.” You would have thought I’d asked them to clean up dog poop off the carpet or something like that (another task reserved for mothers). Then they started giving me lip, “Mom, we ate this spaghetti and bean balls for supper like 4 weeks ago!” or “I can’t even tell what this was!” and my favorite from Hermoine, “I think the swine flu actually started in our refrigerator.” When it came time to open the containers, the real fun began. Some seriously gross stuff was in there, and they just flat out refused to dump the contents into the trash. I used an old carrot to scrape out the molded contents, as Taz screamed, “it smells awful in here!” She ran and got a handkerchief, wrapped it around her face for what she called “maximum defensive from stinkiness.” I didn’t think it was that bad, really. I’d seen worse. It didn’t really help that Slim had just finished putting some fresh “organic” mulch in the yard, which smelled like chicken poop.
Today I went to get some plastic “glad”ware out of the cupboard to put away the pasta salad I had made. I found no plastic containers. Where are all the plastic containers, I pondered? Then I looked over at the fridge and realized…I’ve been so busy that I hadn’t done THE PURGE. You know - the refrigerator purge.
I’m embarrassed to say that I hadn’t purged in a long time, and well, it was pretty disgusting. I guess I just quit seeing it when I opened the fridge (where was Slim?). Luckily my kids are old enough I don’t have to worry about anyone actually trying to eat anything out of there! There comes a time in every girl’s life when she must learn from her mother those household tasks that she will be expected to do someday as a mother herself, because NO ONE ELSE will do them. This includes among other things: cleaning up puke, removing lice from hair, cutting someone else’s finger nails, putting away the clean laundry, changing the toilet paper rolls, and purging the fridge.
I called the girls in and began directing the purge. “Take out all the old plastic containers that look like they have dead food in them, and put them on the kitchen table.” You would have thought I’d asked them to clean up dog poop off the carpet or something like that (another task reserved for mothers). Then they started giving me lip, “Mom, we ate this spaghetti and bean balls for supper like 4 weeks ago!” or “I can’t even tell what this was!” and my favorite from Hermoine, “I think the swine flu actually started in our refrigerator.” When it came time to open the containers, the real fun began. Some seriously gross stuff was in there, and they just flat out refused to dump the contents into the trash. I used an old carrot to scrape out the molded contents, as Taz screamed, “it smells awful in here!” She ran and got a handkerchief, wrapped it around her face for what she called “maximum defensive from stinkiness.” I didn’t think it was that bad, really. I’d seen worse. It didn’t really help that Slim had just finished putting some fresh “organic” mulch in the yard, which smelled like chicken poop.
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