Back in January I submitted my Curvy 7 Interview with Anna Guest-Jelley of Curvy Yoga fame and it’s now my turn to be featured on her blog! First of all, thank you so much, Anna, for doing this! Second, I love the work Anna is doing by encouraging body acceptance for all shapes and sizes. Curvy Yoga is just one of several much needed movements within yoga to make it more diverse and reclaim it from the stereotypical thin, white, yuppies gracing the covers of Yoga Journal. Yoga IS for every BODY, whether you’re big or little and regardless of your skin color, age, sexual orientation, or gender classification. And Curvy Yoga is spreading that word like wildfire. Kudos to you & thanks again!
Category Archives: Yoga
Yesterday, Caroline (fearless leader of the Running Bloggers) put up a post asking how we stay motivated. I’ve been told that this blog is very motivating for people. Some of my readers have begun yoga practices or started running because they see that if I can do it, they can too. This makes me happy because if people can avoid learning things the hard way just by reading something I’ve written, I’m happy to have helped.
Despite what others think of my blog and my journey to wellness, I personally have a hard time staying motivated for a lot of different reasons: my inner dialogue is nearly always negative; I see images of “beauty” every day that I’ll never fit; and it’s hard to stay objective about long-term goals when you’re in the midst of the work and can’t see results. These are just three reasons; there are so many more things that keep me down, mentally. I’ve said countless times on this blog that the mental part of a lifestyle change (in my case exercising & dieting) is the most difficult.
Because of the effort it takes to combat my inner negativity, I try to make my external environment positive. My workstation is filled with quotes, some of which are listed on my Favorite Quotes page. When I saw Caroline’s post, my eyes instantly went to this quote taped to one of my monitors:
The key to development along the Buddhist path is repetitive routine guided by inspirational vision. It is the insight into final freedom–the peace and purity of a liberated mind–that uplifts us and impels us to overcome our limits. But it is by repetition–the methodical cultivation of wholesome practices–that we cover the distance separating us from the goal and draw ever closer to awakening
American Buddhist monk Bhikkhu Bodhi said that, and though it is in reference to a Buddhist practice, I think it applies to lifestyle changes, too. For me that’s essentially what my Buddhist practice is–a way to change myself–to become skillful, healthy, and connected. I am inspired to observe my life and to recognize the cultural forces acting upon it, influencing it. I am inspired to both embrace my existence within this specific time and place as well as to abandon my culture’s influence on me. As it pertains to running specifically, I am inspired to one day call myself a long-distance runner. I envision myself running with the pack instead of in the back of it. This vision does help me overcome what I think are my limits (e.g., I’m overweight, which makes me slow & makes running harder.).
An inspirational vision isn’t enough, though; actual work is required. And the best way to stay committed to any goal is with a daily practice. By the “methodical cultivation of wholesome practices,” I have been changing my life. I’m not sure I’m any closer to “awakening” than I was when I started practicing yoga or running, but I know that the distance between my goal is less now than it was then, and that keeps me motivated that this journey is worthy.
Thank you for reading, and thank you, Caroline for today’s post inspiration. What keeps you motivated?
Remember how I got injured at the end of April? Yeah, I was in physical therapy for much of May. Instead of spending six days a week training and working on my speed, I spent three days a week in physical therapy and the rest of the week doing my exercises and stretches. At first the PT was really painful, but then it wasn’t so bad. All the time off, though, combined with a shit-storm of stress in May made it really tough to get back to training.
I probably could have returned to training last week, but I didn’t. I watched a lot of tv and had several dinners/pool nights with friends. Over the weekend, I recommitted to my training. This time, though, I’m doing it without the fabulous help and support of my coach at Knoxville Endurance (yes, I’m concerned about that). I’m almost a week into it, and for the most part, it’s been a complete failure. However, instead of beating myself up over it, I’ve faced the situation for what it is, and I’m moving forward. Here’s my step-by-step process:
First, assess the situation. I need to return to running for anxiety management and weight loss.
Second, establish goals, both long term and short term. Long-term, I still want to complete the Bluegrass Half Marathon on September 22nd. I also want to lose 30 pounds by then. Short term, I want to complete two weeks of my training plan without deviating. I also want to detox from sugar, carbohydrates, and alcohol until further notice, but most likely until September.
Third, identify specific ways of achieving those goals. I have developed a training plan that will get me back up to running long distances. This training plan includes four days of running each week, one day of yoga, one day of elliptical or Get Fit with Mel B cross training, and one rest day. I have also committed to tracking all calories consumed and burned with My Fitness Pal. This way I can see where my calories are coming from and make adjustments to my diet accordingly.
Fourth, stick to the plan and be flexible only when necessary. It’s easy to tell myself that today is not a good day to (fill in the blank). But that’s not true. Today is always a good day to be active, meditate, eat right, drink enough water, (fill in the blank). Rain or shine, humidity or not, I need to stick to my plan. Building good habits is just as hard as breaking bad ones. It takes a daily commitment and considerable time to change, but the only way it’s going to happen is with consistency.
Fifth, have someone hold yourself accountable. It sucks that I’m doing this on my own. It sucks that I don’t really have a “training buddy,” because having someone else actually sweating balls with you is hugely motivating. But both because of my schedule and my location, that’s just not feasible for me, so I’m turning to my blogging community to help me out a little here. This is why I’m posting all of this here. Please feel free to click on my Daily Mile icon to see if I’ve run or logged elliptical mileage. Check my Twitter feed for my Plank-a-Day challenge posts. And when you don’t see anything, call me on it. If you know my phone number, call me or send me a text. If not, I’m not giving it out, but you can email me, comment on my Facebook page or Twitter feed, or leave a comment here.
An Infographic for Perspective
I found this over at Fit for a Year. Man does that guy have great infographics! Check it out, y’all. Here’s the link to the actual hosted site, though. I’m definitely NOT going to take any weight-loss pills (shown at the bottom of the infographic). In my experience, the best way to make long-term changes with diet and wellness are to do it the old fashioned way: healthy diet and adequate exercise. Aside from that, everything else covered here definitely motivates me to get my butt in gear. I’m committed to cutting my calories, sugars, carbs, which should take care of the processed foods. I’m a little concerned about protein, though, because I can only eat so much chicken and fish before I want to return to vegetarianism; but legumes don’t like me nearly as much as I like them. Having enough variety in my diet is a huge challenge. Also to be considered in my diet is carbohydrate storage. I need to eat GOOD carbs to help me fuel through work outs, and I need something for refueling on long runs; but again, a lot of high-fiber carbs just ruin my GI tract, and I need to not rely on sugary nutrition like Gu during long runs. Finding the right carbs and the right endurance nutrition will require effort.
And without further adieu:
In a comment on my most recent post, Comfortably Numb asked for more information about ovarian cysts, and because that was my first post dealing with that topic, this post is my attempt at providing her with more information. This is much more personal than I ever envisioned being on my blog, but I think women should be as informed as possible about their reproductive health.
My Personal History of Reproductive UNhealth
My struggles with reproductive health have existed since I was 11 years old. To give you some perspective, my “first” period was waking up with severe abdominal pain while being covered/soaked in so much blood that my mom thought I’d been stabbed. I’ve always had pain and been irregular (e.g., three months straight of menstruating to the point of anemia from that initial experience). I also had considerable weight gain and hormonal imbalance. At 11 years old, my doctor put me on Premarin (a hormone treatment for menopausal women) to shock my system with hormone therapy, and that was disastrous after only three days on the drug. My only other option at 11 years old was a surgery that could have potentially left me sterile, and my parents left it up to me to make the decision on whether to go through with it or not. I chose to take my chances with the pain and did not have the surgery. Since then, I’ve been on more birth control pills than I can remember, changing each time to address my body’s changing hormones. I’ve missed school and work because I’ve been crippled with painful menstrual cycles. I’ve had to spend entire summer breaks mostly confined to bed or limited movement also due to the pain. I lived like this for 17 years. Inescapable pain is a prison.
When I started having digestive issues a few years ago, I kept complaining of either sharp, stabbing pain or dull, soreness in my lower right abdomen. Thinking it was related to the digestive issues because of the unbelievable nausea that accompanied it, I went to expensive extremes to resolve it. Some of my nausea and stomach pain actually was related to digestive stuff, but my doctor referred me to a reproductive specialist in my city, and she found a string of cysts, some of them measuring 3.5 cm in diameter around my right ovary with an ultrasound.
In my case, the cysts dissolve on their own, though it may take several weeks. I have noticed reduced frequency of cyst-related pain since I started practicing yoga & added running, and because I now eat foods that are less processed with less sugars. I actually started taking yoga in October 2010 as an alternative to the physical therapy my doctor prescribed to me for the cyst pain, and it’s been the catalyst for the lifestyle overhaul I’m living in right now. However, even with reduced frequency, the pain level hasn’t changed when I do get them. It’s severe, and it wipes me out.
Because repeated, multiple cysts are typically linked to a hormone or insulin-related imbalance, it is treated as a precursor to diabetes, and many doctors prescribe medicine like Metformin, (which is traditionally used for Type II diabetics) to help cyst sufferers lose weight and manage cyst formation. I have NOT been prescribed Metformin because my cysts do eventually dissolve on their own and because I have been losing weight with diet and exercise, though it’s an unbelievably slow and arduous process. I have, however, had to change birth control several times to address the hormonal aspect of my condition.
Symptoms & Dangers of Ovarian Cysts
Symptoms that are red flags for me are (in the order they tend to appear): bloating and more density in my lower abdomen especially, soreness (like cramps), and severe sharp pain (like being stabbed) with nausea. For me it either happens the week before or after my cycle, and sometimes it can make my cycle much worse, even considering that I’m on birth control. Additional complications of ovarian cysts include urinary incontinence and frequent urinary tract infections as well as pain during sex or even during sexual arousal.
Dangers of repeated and multiple ovarian cysts include: cyst rupture, which can cause the ovary to rupture along with it, consequently resulting in internal bleeding and a necessary trip to the ER; twisting the ovary, which can essentially “kill” your ovary; and infertility (because the eggs that are released are too hormonally imbalanced to be fertilized).
When to See the Doctor & What to Bring
If you are experiencing frequent, sharp lower abdominal pain, usually (but not exclusively) limited to one side, I’d start making a log of it, especially in relation to your cycle. I’d also include in this log what you’re eating and drinking. Be specific: Does the pain interfere with your daily life? If so, how long does it last? Do your cycles change (get heavier or lighter, skip or last longer)?
Take the log to your reproductive health doctor and discuss it. He or she will most likely conduct a pelvic exam and a trans-vaginal ultrasound, both of which can be painful with ovarian cysts present, but these exams are necessary because a regular abdominal ultrasound doesn’t always pick them up clearly. If ovarian cysts are present, your doctor will then determine what kind they are and make a plan accordingly. Some people require laparoscopic surgery to burn the cysts off and clean up any scar tissue that may have developed on the ovaries or fallopian tubes; others in danger of becoming diabetic may need to take Metformin; or people like me need to switch up their birth control to manage the hormone imbalances.
Fertility & Ovarian Cysts
Issues like this have made trying to conceive quite challenging. If I have to stay on birth control just to manage my hormonal imbalances, then what happens when I go off it to conceive? Well, I personally have a three-month window off birth control before my symptoms get too severe for daily life. If I can’t conceive within three months, then I have to go back on my pills to prevent cyst/hormone overload on my ovaries. This back-and-forth with hormonal birth control is enough to make me think I’ve lost my mind, and it kills my husband to watch me go through this without being able to do anything about it.
With hormonal imbalances, unavoidable and hard-to-lose weight, crippling pain, and embarrassing facial hair, issues of infertility seem (to me) to be icing on top of the torture cake. While I have suffered beyond measure for almost two decades, I have to face my culture’s pressure to have children (which I absolutely want), and I have to see all my friends and family members fill up mini-vans and SUVs with their ever-expanding families. I have to face questions about why we continue to wait as we are, as well as horror stories of waiting too late to have children. At one point I had 14 friends on Facebook who were simultaneously pregnant and sharing their “baby trackers” online, and I had to unfriend them because I just couldn’t take the frequent updates without feeling sorry for myself. These issues are usually silent struggles shared between couples behind closed doors and in exam rooms, and I would typically say a person’s health issues (reproductive or otherwise) shouldn’t be a matter for such public conversation as this. But clearly people don’t feel they are crossing a line when they repeatedly ask me these questions in public; so I’ve been quite (embarrassingly) forthcoming with this post.
Aside from birth control, laparoscopic surgery is also an option for me (though an unaffordable one right now thanks to the medical debt from troubleshooting these issues). Within three months of having laparoscopic surgery, I’ve been told I’ll be a “fertile Myrtle” very much able to conceive, but the danger then lies in increased complications with pregnancy and increased likelihood of miscarriage. Because being off birth control is obviously necessary while pregnant, the cysts can return while pregnant and cause complications. Pregnant women who are prone to repeated and multiple ovarian cysts are also likely to develop gestational diabetes and preeclampsia.
We’ve also considered adoption, and you wouldn’t believe the expensive hoops we have to jump through just to be qualified. It’s as expensive as IVF, and as heartbreaking if surrogate parents decide to change their minds or if adoption boards don’t approve of any number of things on our adoption application.
I’m doing everything in my power to make my body both fit and strong enough to handle the ovarian cysts and to get & stay pregnant. Every ounce of my energy is going into working (to pay off medical debt and pay for preventative healthcare), exercising to lose weight, and observing a healthy diet to help regulate my hormones all so we can have children, whether biologically, with medical help, or through adoption. I’m well aware that I am approaching 30 and still childless. I do not need public reminders or questions of why we’re still choosing to wait. And I do my best to share in the happiness of my friends and family members who are having kids, but I have to admit it is a bittersweet joy.
For More Information:
Just over a week ago, Jim over at The Running Father Blog posted a callout for transpersonal testimonies, and I took the bait. What follows is my personal testimony…of faith and doubt, of a childhood steeped in fear and abuse, of an adult living with the fallout, of many deaths, and of surviving.
Stages of Development
According to Erik Erikson’s Eight Stages of Human Development, the first thing we learn is either to trust or to mistrust. The easiest example is a parent responding to an infant’s cries. Whether the baby is hungry, tired, or needing a diaper change, the baby has a need, and it is communicating that need with shrill wails. If the parent responds to the baby’s cry with feeding, holding, or changing, then the baby learns to trust that the parent will provide and care for its needs. However, if the parent lets the baby wail and does not feed, hold, or change it, then the baby learns that it cannot trust the parent.
Because the parent is literally the whole world for a baby, this lesson of mistrust then influences the baby’s worldview (and according to Erikson, the potential for successfully mastering the subsequent stages of development as they come up). The subsequent stages of development are: autonomy vs. shame (in the toilet training timeframe), initiative vs. guilt (preschool aged), industry vs. inferiority (primary school aged), identity vs. role confusion (adolescence), intimacy vs. isolation (in young adulthood), generativity vs. stagnation (in middle age), and finally ego integrity vs. despair (in elder years).
It’s fairly safe to say that I was on the losing end of these stages until at least elementary school or adolescence. I essentially survived my childhood as best as I could, and my saving grace in my early life was being in school. Once I learned to count, I counted everything…all the time. Then once I learned to read (in Head Start), and was able to bring books home (in elementary school), I read…all the time. Counting and reading transported me from an unstable, scary home situation into a world of order, patterns, and escapism. Of course my parents, siblings, and school kids thought I was freakish for being a space cadet, tuning everything (and everyone) out most of the time and that I was a lazy loner for choosing to read alone over hanging out with the neighborhood kids.
By the time I was 11, I had a bike, interests of my own, and I had learned to avoid home at all costs, and that’s how I survived. Considering the trauma in my formative years, it’s no wonder I have a hard time trusting people even now, or the gravity of things I walk around with daily. I know I’m lucky to have survived my childhood, and I’m luckier still that I’m not locked away in an institution, either mental or prison. That’s not an exaggeration. I’m literally a statistical anomaly considering my socioeconomic, dysfunctional background.
Of course I’ve been to a variety of therapists, and you know what they say? All of them? “Well, you’re quite well adjusted!” No fucking shit, Sherlock. That I haven’t succumbed to homicidal rages, been successful with suicide, or fallen into the abyss of criminality either means I’m a moderately high functioning sociopath…or I’m okay in spite of everything I’ve experienced.
Snake Oil Salvation
When you take a young girl with my history and add an element of charismatic, evangelical Christianity to the mix, what you end with is a girl who’s suffered unspeakable things thinking she was born damned into the world and deserving of her tragic lot in life. And that’s a goddamned shame.
Drawn to Christianity’s promise of eternal love, I ran to, begged, and pleaded with God to save me…or to let me die. I remember being nine years old and literally praying to God to let me die so I didn’t have to live anymore. (WHAT THE FUCK, INDEED?) But with the resilience that ONLY comes from youth, I embraced the concept of eternal salvation; and I became a proselytizing, evangelical Christian teenager. I channeled all my anger and fear into rigid religious fervor. But I still had questions, so I read the Bible, and I took Biblical courses at church.
When God never rescued me despite all my trying and learning and in the depths of my despair, I chose to let myself die and attempted suicide at sixteen. Though I survived, I think part of me did die then. I’ve felt very much in-between ever since, partly alive and partly dead. I was both corporeal and ethereal at the same time. Some might say I was fragile (they have). I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t say there’s a single fragile thing about me, then or now. I’m as hard and cold as a corpse, and it takes an unbelievable level of effort to force myself to be warm with people.
I had even more questions about faith, and I was desperate for a loving community, so I chose a Christian college when I was lucky enough to have the opportunity. College. Well, it really was the best of times and worst of times. I went through an early marriage, miscarriage, and divorce all before graduating in four years…with two majors… three part time jobs…and a chip on my shoulder the size of Alaska. I was villainized by some for mustering the courage to hold my head up and for bouncing back after the divorce. I was publicly humiliated for wearing a Kerry/Edwards t-shirt while cleaning in the cafeteria on voting day. You read things like Jane Eyre and Great Expectations, or anything by Flannery O’Connor, and you think despicable people like that can’t possibly exist in real life. I’m telling you, I’ve met more than one Bible salesman willing to steal a wooden leg!
As rough as it was, college was also a period of awakening and of finding the deep love of a Christian community, when I wasn’t angry at it, of course. My friends and I would walk barefoot by Buffalo Creek quoting Adam Bede, writing songs, and living out our social justice in the form of hospitality for one another. I never locked my doors. I always left my keys in my car for any of my friends to use as they needed. I never knew if people would be in my apartment…or not. I never claimed ownership over much, but I also never went without anything I needed. I ate well. All my bills were paid…in spite of the money I had or didn’t. It was faith inspired socialism, and it was so beautiful. We lived out the miracle of the loaves and fishes in my last couple of years at college, and it sustained me on more than just material levels.
With my college experiences, my questions about faith only grew, and I became more vocal about my universalist leanings. And then I went to seminary. I realize now that probably wasn’t the best route for me; but I was fresh out of college and not ready to leave my community…so I went to the seminary on the holy hill across the street. I only stayed a year.
In seminary, I gained a love of textual criticism, early Christian tradition, liturgy and ritual, Biblical languages, and early American Christian History, but my doubts than any of it was real, meaningful, or nourishing had also become overwhelming. So I took some time away from church when I left seminary.
In the four years after leaving seminary, I tried going back to church several times, but I just couldn’t. I tried the Methodists because I love John Wesley. I tried the Episcopalians because they drink and have great senses of humor…about faith…and life. The most pleasantly sarcastic people I know are Episcopalian. I strongly considered joining an Episcopal church here in Knoxville, but my husband and I were the youngest people in the congregation by at least a few decades, so the search was still on for a spiritual community.
Dark Night of the Soul
In those same four years after seminary, I struggled in the typical post-collegiate ways. I was overworked, grossly abused by my employer, underpaid, and had no benefits at all. And then I quit that job and struggled with unemployment. But wait…there’s more! To deal with…gosh everything in my life, I started taking an anti-depressant while working for said abusive employer. I was on it a whole month before I quit that job. With all my medical experience, I figured it was okay to just stop taking it. It had only been a month, right? Biggest mistake of my whole life. Ever.
I don’t remember much about the month of November, 2007. I am deeply ashamed of everything I put my husband (then boyfriend) through at that time, but I also know I wasn’t really in control of what was happening. I’m going to blame it all on very bad judgment and quitting my new medication so suddenly (because taking someone with so many demons and fucking with their brain chemistry that way is a disaster just waiting to happen). And it was a disaster.
Some people have a period of depression after confronting (and being consumed with) religious doubt and life struggles. It’s normal, really. But ever the over-achiever, I actually had a certifiable mental breakdown. My beloved took me to the doctor, told him I was broken and lost and not the woman he fell in love with, and he asked for the help that I couldn’t ask for. It took me over a year of taking the right dosage of the right medication to level my brain back out, and the process of figuring out that perfect cocktail was a nightmare all on its own (for me and especially for Daniel).
When I felt better and stronger, I told my doctor I wanted to go off the meds; and I’ve been successfully off of them since early 2009. But I’m not the same. I don’t know that I’ll ever be the same. Maybe part of me died then, too. In all the things I’d been through, I had never experienced debilitating anxiety like I have since living on the flip side of that coin. The constant tentativeness and fear that seems to follow me around since then are like stormy clouds always on the horizon, or a flock of dark pixies overjoyed at my torment.
In the summer of 2010, I started going back to church. I was so skittish. And they let me be. They let me stay on the edges as long as I needed. Even now, they don’t judge me for the times I’m the Roadrunner out the door after service. Or, if they do, they love me the same anyway, and that’s all that really matters. They preach love, and they practice social justice. They care for the people in the margins. They give space and time and validation to people who are experiencing moments of brokenness, and they offer healing to all who would take it. They are made up of people who’ve been rejected and hurt by their loved ones as well as by the Church. They’re religious scholars with rich theology. They embrace and use liturgy regularly, and I’m sure services are planned; but no one gets bent out of shape when something goes awry. I dare say no music leader is as quick with the witty, musical improvisation as ours! And the children’s/youth’s presence in the congregation and service sets the most beautiful example for us as adults.
Along with my return to a spiritual community, I began practicing yoga in October 2010. It really did start as a practical alternative to physical therapy. But it became the first way I ever learned to be comfortable in my own body and mind. I learned to breathe. I learned to be still without relying on obsessive counting, or escaping through literature. I became physically stronger, and then I became inspired…to see what I could do…to learn what challenges I could overcome.
Last year for Lent, I started practicing yoga every day, and so many unexpected obstacles arose. Uncontrollable crying. Anger. Shaking. A return of nightmares, sometimes night terrors. I think my body was finally experiencing a delayed reaction of sorts to all the pain that had been inflicted upon it. And then last summer a friend committed suicide. In my emotional rawness and because of my own near-miss as well as our communication just a couple days before it happened, it hit me and left me down for the count. I gave myself time to grieve, and then I started moving on before I drowned in it. I went back to church, kept up with my yoga practice, added running, and started practicing Buddhist metta meditation.
I’d say I’m still in the process of reclaiming my life. I still cry sometimes when I do certain yoga poses. When I run, listening to loud, screaming types of music, I feel like my whole body is exercising/exorcising out all of my demons. I’m mostly sleepless, unless it’s out of sheer physical exhaustion. And sometimes it’s hard to shake the negative thoughts from my mind. But I’m still active in my spiritual community. I continue in my yoga & meditation practices, and I’m getting better at running every single day. I journal my reactions to life and culture here on this blog. In reading it, I sincerely hope this stage of my life is as inspiring as it is for me to be living it. Because as hard as all of this is, it’s all worth it.
So what am I? What do I believe? What is good or evil? What is my salvation?
Because our culture likes labels, I guess I’m a Post-Traumatic, Post-Evangelical, Post-Fundamentalist, Post-Academic, Atheist, Agnostic, Buddhist, Christian, Yogi. I wouldn’t say I’m a mystic because of my cynicism; but I’m probably more authentically mystic than all the people rushing to India to kiss the feet of their gurus and get new names. The very definition of mysticism, as Wikipedia goes, is “the pursuit of, communion with, identity with, or conscious awareness of an ultimate reality, divinity, spiritual truth, or God through direct experience, intuition, instinct, or insight.” Yup, I’d say I’m probably a mystic; but I don’t dig the talk of chakras or of chanting, or of faith healing. So I’m a cynical mystic as well as a statistical anomaly. Somehow that all seems fitting.
Similarly, the term “charismatic” takes me back to the scary days of life in a Pentecostal church with speaking in tongues, demon possession, and spiritual warfare. I would absolutely say I am not charismatic at all. But the literal and original meaning of charisma is “grace,” and were it not for receiving the grace of all the people who’ll have me, I’d be completely alone in this world.
What is good and evil? Well, I’m an expert at evil, so I’ll start there. Evil is anything that tells us “I am me, and you are you.” If “I am me,” then that means I exist outside of “you.” It means that we are different. It means I can pass righteous judgment on you and you on me. It means I create a sense of self and a sense of other. As long as I have a sense of self and a sense of other, I can debase whatever is “other.” This is the foundation of poverty and war, which are also evil. It is the foundation of thinking one person can own another person and therefore treat “their” people however they please, which is usually to say abuse. And its result…well its result is utter separation, which is hell. Good, on the other hand, is the coming together of You and Me. It is the abandonment of the sense of self and the sense of other. It is the connection of all living things. It is love and charity, grace and peace. It is salvation.
And what of salvation? Well my salvation is Jane Eyre, and all of Dickens’ orphan tales. It’s “The Yellow Wallpaper” and Jane Austen. My salvation is The Smashing Pumpkins, Sarah McLachlan, and Mumford & Sons. It’s absolutely yoga, running, and meditating. It’s Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein. It’s the Mandelbrot set and MC Escher’s Relativity. It’s the Buddha and Jesus and Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. Today and specifically in my life, my salvation is Son’Cia Humphries, Meghan Sizemore, John Henderson, Mr. Owens, Ms. Rhoton & Mr. Wilson, Dr. Ruth Lavender, Dr. Jill LeRoy Frazier, Marvin Glover, Brittany Love, Evelyn Tachau Brown, Judson Nichols, John Gill, Leslie Etheridge, Victoria Medaglia, Ceil Sheahan, Sam Rosolina, Marcia Free & Fred Martinson, and Jim & Sandy Foster. It’s my beloved Daniel and his truly long-suffering love. It’s all the things and people that help me know I’m not alone…that I’m connected. My salvation keeps an eye on me in the moments I’m not able to look out for myself. It challenges me and makes me stronger. It holds me accountable to my vow to love myself.
This post covers my transpersonal journey to this point, which is almost 30 years old. It may seem too short a time to have lived through so much. But I’ve died a few times in the process, and I see it more as if I’ve just lived a few different times even if it’s only in this one lifetime. I’ve certainly had a plentiful serving of tragedy, but I’m living in the midst of the happiest time of my life, which is more than making up for all the doom and gloom.