weighing in ~ week 40

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost 1.8 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 43.4 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.09 pounds
Current weight ~ 186.6 pounds

weighing in ~ week 39

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Gained .8 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 41.6 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.07 pounds
Current weight ~ 188.4 pounds

weighing in ~ week 38

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost .8 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 42.4 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.12 pounds
Current weight ~ 187.6 pounds

weighing in ~ week 37

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost 2.6 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 41.6 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.12 pounds
Current weight ~ 188.4 pounds or 85.5 kg

weighing in ~ week 36

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost 2.2 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 39 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.08 pounds
Current weight ~ 191

I could write about the extension for another month on my work contract.

I could write about the fabric shopping spree last Saturday with little E and Dolly, how as we boarded the bus, the smiling driver knelt the bus so E could roll Dolly's stroller on.

I could write about the long walk from the bus stop to our favourite fabric shop in search of something perfect for more Dolly clothes and some summer pajamas and dresses for E . E turns out to be an excellent fabric shopper for four-going-on five and is very clear about her preferences.

But these are small things with great significance only for me (and E, I suppose) and don't make for interesting writing or reading despite how they pave the road of my transition into what next. Reflecting on them does not take me to any depth. I am so preoccupied with everything but writing lately.

"Until I get wherever it is I am going, I want to nurture those corners of my psyche and soul that are peaceful and beautiful. I want my work to arise out of those places. I want my life to flow out of those places. It is surprisingly difficult to do that. It requires a confrontation with myself, a discipline over myself. When I sit down to paint, a thousand distractions beckon—unreturned phone messages, unpaid bills, unreconciled bank statements, dirty dishes, etc. However satisfying it is to complete a painting that comes out of that place of peace and beauty, that expresses my feelings about wild places and wild things, disappointment and discouragement are the more common outcome. In a strange way, it is more comfortable to do our bookkeeping. The process of making art is a process of confronting oneself, one’s lack of talent, one’s lack of confidence. It is what Robert Henri called “the magnificent struggle” in his excellent book The Art Spirit. In some ways it is like meditation. Art involves a confrontation with oneself that can be surprisingly uncomfortable."

—Roderick MacIver from Art as a Way of Life.

rethinking addiction treatment

Only another two weeks until my contract ends with the folks who issued this press release a couple of weeks ago (which I've edited a bit to make current):

If treatment for cancer and heart disease was as haphazard and unsuccessful as our current strategies for treating addiction, there would be public outcry, addiction experts, people who use drugs and their family members agreed at a recent public dialogue event examining how to improve treatment options and outcomes.

Obstacles to achieving success in treating addictions include trying to apply a cookie-cutter approach when dealing with a complex illness with myriad contributing factors, establishing unrealistic timelines for treatment in publicly funded programs and insufficient funding both for actual treatment and needed research, said participants in the Rethinking Treatment symposium presented by Keeping the Door Open: Dialogues on Drug Use, a Vancouver coalition focused on drug policy issues.

“This symposium [was] about dispelling the myth that there is a single need to be addressed,” said Gillian Maxwell, Chair of Keeping the Door Open. “We want to help people understand that we need a variety of treatment responses.”

“If we take the focus away from the drugs people use and instead look at them as individuals with personal underlying issues, we are on our way to discovering what they actually need and what might help them achieve success in dealing with their addiction,” she added.

Research in British Columbia, Canada and around the world shows that if treatment is provided in an appropriate and integrated way it can be very effective, but often treatment is provided with enormous and unrealistic time pressures by inadequately trained staff and does not follow established best practices.

“My experience in drug treatment has been that in too many situations there are a whole lot of people who, while they have the best of intentions, don’t have the proper training. They don’t recognise that someone has just made the most important decision of their lives and instead of acknowledging that, they immediately ask you to go to the core of your being to reveal deeply imbedded emotions that require more time and care to access. A certain skill level is needed to deal with such issues positively. I’ve experienced it done poorly repeatedly and many times I’ve felt treatment has done me more harm than good,” said Richard Utendale, President of the Vancouver Area Network of Drug Users.

Rethinking Treatment provide[d] an overview of treatment principles from the macro global level to the micro municipal level, examine[d] the spectrum of substance use and consider[ed] ethical and empirical responses to meet people’s needs.

“Treatment is often positioned as a better alternative by critics of harm reduction, but significantly less attention has been paid to the quality of drug treatment,” said Daniel Wolfe, Deputy Director, International Harm Reduction Development program at New York’s Open Society Institute who has written widely on the intersection of drug policy and HIV prevention.

“Globally, many countries practice coercion in the name of treatment, subjecting drug users to mass institutionalization, unproven medical procedures and punitive approaches that would be clearly unethical in other health care arenas,” he added. “Some of the assumptions underlying problematic approaches to treatment include the notion that treatment is something best done to, rather than with, drug users, the creation of health delivery that requires drug users to negotiate multiple systems to get help and a tendency to attribute treatment failure to individual drug users rather than the systems that serve them.”

Treatment options for people who are addicted to legal and illegal substances are sufficiently limited, but for people with addiction and mental illness the situation is even more complex and can feel desperate, said Dr. Michael Krausz, a leading international psychiatrist specializing in addiction and mental health and the inaugural holder of the newly established Leading Edge Endowment Fund Chair in Addiction Research at the University of BC.

“We must do a better job of understanding how mental illness impacts treatment options. People who are mentally ill are misunderstood when they are dependent on drugs,” said Dr. Krausz. “Significant change is required so that those with mental illness who use drugs receive timely treatment to restore their health. Medical professionals, treatment providers and government officials must come together to achieve this much-needed change. Recently, we have heard that the BC government understands the value of such consultation with the community and we look forward to working with them.”

Parents and family members of people addicted to drugs and other substances who also have mental illness understand too well the nightmare that seeking appropriate treatment can be.

“The way the current treatment system separates addiction and mental health services, particularly for youth and young adults, is dysfunctional and must change," said Chris Richardson, a board member of the support and advocacy group From Grief to Action.

“The only reason my daughter is alive and in recovery today is because of a combination of luck and several exceptional individuals who went above and beyond their normal duties to navigate an unnecessarily complex system. If not for their efforts, I hate to think what might have happened,” he added.

Others speaking at Rethinking Treatment included Dr. Julio Montaner, Director, BC Centre for Excellence in HIV/AIDS, Geoff Plant, Vancouver’s Project Civil City Commissioner, Dr. Gabor Maté, author and staff physician at the Downtown Eastside Portland Hotel, and Donald MacPherson, the City of Vancouver’s Drug Policy Coordinator.

Keeping the Door Open: Dialogues on Drug Use is a Vancouver coalition of individuals and organizations representing a diverse range of stakeholder groups, institutional and community-based service providers, health authorities, research centres, charitable foundations, public policy makers, drug consumers, consumer advocates, government and business officials.

- 30 -

Here's a link to a recent (and what I consider to be a very interesting and moving) talk by one of the symposium speakers, Dr. Gabor Maté, at the launch of his book "In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiciton."

This is not a work contract I am eager to see end.

weighing in ~ week 35

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost .2 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 36.8 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.05 pounds
Current weight ~ 193.2

Lots of exercise last week, so I'm headed in the right direction again and this week -- in addition to keeping up the exercise -- I'm staying away from the sweets and feeling less compulsive.

I'm not as pumped about this process as I was in the beginning when the fat was melting away more quickly, but I'm not discouraged. I can see where I've let my attention drift and where I've let some unhealthy habits creep back in. A couple of weeks ago, I wasn't quite ready to do what I needed to do to regain my focus. This week I've managed to bypass my resistance.

Managing my automatic thoughts is a lot like taking a stronger leadership stance with my dog; the mindfulness is every bit as rewarding and every bit as necessary if I don't want to be tagging along at the end of a leash.

weighing in ~ week 34

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Gained .8 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 36.6 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.08 pounds
Current weight ~ 193.4

weighing in ~ week 33

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Gained .2 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 37.4 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.13 pounds
Current weight ~ 192.6

I didn't get myself to the meeting last week, but I was determined not to miss again tonight. I'm glad I made the effort. I would have guessed that I had gained more. For the past couple of weeks I've lapsed back into some compulsive eating and last week, for the first time in seven months, I resisted tracking my points and knew I was slipping.

Am I back on track again? In this moment? Yes! Tomorrow? We'll see.

Oh, and if it appears that the only thing I have to write about these days is losing weight, please bear with me. I'm one of a group of people organizing a public dialogue for Monday night and Tuesday next week and I've been a bit swamped with details and working long hours to keep my contributions on target.

If you're interested, you can read more about "Rethinking Treatment: Recognizing and Responding to the Spectrum of Substance Use" here.

weighing in ~ week 31

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Gained .2 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 37.6 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.21 pounds
Current weight ~ 192.4

weighing in ~ week 30

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost 3.8 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 37.8 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.26 pounds
Current weight ~ 192.2

weighing in ~ week 29

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~Gained 1 pound
Total weight loss ~ 34 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.17 pounds
Current weight ~ 196

Not much success yet this year in improving my weight (only about five pounds), but I've been more focussed and less compulsive for the past couple of days and I intend to make more progress soon.

With the loss of my initial enthusiasm, I was becoming less careful about portion sizes and a bit too casual about the quality of food I was eating. I was slipping too much sugar and other empty calories into my day. Not surprisingly, I was feeling more hungry and wanting more food.

A few days ago, I decided it was time to get back on track and so far so good. I hope the scales soon agree that I'm headed back in the right direction.

This isn't all about the scales and the measuring tape or about how I look, but it helps to see these signs of how much more healthy I'm getting. Having ignored my body's warning signs for so long, I imagine it will take me some learning to pay more attention to her positive signals.

Also, what's more important than how and what I've been overeating is when and why. I won't explore that here, but I want you to know that I'm on it.

softened by a fall

This is my niece, Shelley Nairn.

This is her story.

So this is it. This is how vibrant colors really are. This is how silent the cold air is. This is peace. This is what it’s like before you die. It really is beautiful and every minute here was worth it.

A flash of grey and white relieves my lungs of all their air with a sudden force as my body collides with an icy rock edge. I don’t particularly like the sound it makes, but the impact has turned me and I greet my one last friend, the bluebird sky. No clouds appear in this picture and silence is somehow deeper. The ropes --two colorful wavy lines -- split the sky and lead my eye to the heavens. They no longer seem to join me to my partner as they dance freely. My blue and green jacket is puffed out in front of me and I am like a child sinking in water in an oversize life preserver. My ice tools and crampons have become surreal weapons glinting slyly in the sun. I wonder indifferently where they will eventually plant themselves -- it won't be me who will have to find me.

The voice in my head says "fight" while my heart and body surrender to my predicament. I have no choice as I am floating backwards full speed towards the ground. I’m certain that these are my last moments of life and because I’m a dreamer I know this isn’t a dream and the voice of reality is getting louder…"you’re not dead yet!" Oh, right, what did I learn about self-arrest? Surely I’ll need to do it when I slide down that steep snow slope we slogged up to get to the ice. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. But what happened anyway? Why am I still falling? I almost yell "take" but laugh at myself, at the absurdity of this notion. Surely I’ve been falling all day. And where on earth is my partner? What happened to him? Something is not right. He must be in trouble. I worry he’s dead.

I’ve landed and I’m stuck butt first in the ground now. I’m almost puking but nothing is coming out. To my left about five feet away is a rock slab. I feel sick with luck that I didn’t land on that. The one I hit was much higher up. No, now I’m safely nestled in the snow with tools still only in hand. I didn’t have to use the self-arrest technique. My dance and yoga instructors would be proud to see me folded in half like a closed book. My legs are straight and perpendicular to the earth that is swallowing me whole and my forehead is inches from my knees. I squirm about to loosen the grasp of my snowy opponent. The struggle ends as I find room to breathe and I stop flailing in a claustrophobic panic. I dig to my right so that I can direct my face to the earth in case anything does come out besides coughs, gasps and the blood I spit. My helmet has been pushed off behind my head and the strap is choking me. I take off my glove and touch my face. I’m bleeding from somewhere but don't investigate it further. With years of nose-bleeds behind me, I am not squeamish at the sight of blood, but at the moment I just feel absorbed by another reality.

Someone is calling my name and I can’t speak. He is asking me if I’m alright, he is asking me where I am. I am relieved to hear him and to know that he is alive but I have to force myself to answer, “I’m down here, at the bottom…about fifteen feet below the base of the ice.”

There’s a pause before I hear his voice again, “You OK?” he calls.

“I think so...”, I say because I know that it is my hand I’m looking at with fresh blood on it… “I just fell really, really far.”
“No shit!” His voice echoes down to me.

“Are you OK?” I yell upwards convinced he isn’t and confused as hell.

“Yes!" he calls, "I am coming down”.

“No!" I yell stubbornly, "I’m coming up.”

In retrospect, this was the craziest idea that I’ve ever had. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Confused about why I had just fallen so far on top rope, I was sure that my partner needed my help. So after my 150 ft., romantically painful ground fall, I was off to the rescue.

I manage to pick myself up and hobble back to the vertical curtain of ice. I begin climbing. It doesn't occur to me to find out whether or not I'm on belay this time and it takes a while for my ego to accept that I may actually be suffering some injuries. My right elbow doesn’t bend anymore and when I touch my right tool to the ice, a fury of pain moves through my arm. Breathing is laborious and my right hip is aching. I can only place my right foot on the ice. Kicking is not an option.

My mom always said that if you get bucked off, you should get right back up on the horse, but as I near the spot where the horse bucked me off, terror starts to set in. I continue slowly with a new perspective of what a 'good' placement is. I climb past the spot where I had taken out the last screw. I am at the exact place where things went wrong and I feel my heart in my throat. I call up to my partner to say that I am really scared and continue to talk myself through it with a deep, muffled, trembling voice.

"You're OK, you're OK, is it sticking? Yes, it's sticking, test it again, OK it's good. No! Test it again. OK? It's good, you're OK, keep moving, you can do this, you are doing this, it will be over soon.." I move with trepidation. An exalted euphoria fills me as I conquer "my crux," but the awareness of pain has returned as I continue up the icy narrow gully. I’m approaching my partner now -- he’s in view. We are talking like butterflies about who-knows-what.

Although I'm not sure that I'm still moving, I am getting closer. I’m right beside him at the anchor I thought he was belaying me from. He is missing his two front teeth, but says he's alright. On the hike in we were asking each other questions like "Do you have any brothers or sisters?, and "Where is your hometown anyway?" I only knew him by reputation, but we're hugging like long-lost friends. In our embrace he touches my arm and I yelp with pain. We separate and will never hug like this again.

The events that follow become distorted and fuzzy -- a foreshadowing of my thoughts and feelings for the next few years to come.

My partner tells me he thought climbing simultaneously would save time and he was about to put me on belay when he was yanked down the hilly pitch above. A few months later he confess that he thought I wouldn't fall because he saw me climbing strong at the gym. On the walk in I told him I was a novice ice climber and that I would prefer to be on belay. This is a testament to how loud our actions speak and a reminder of the intricacies of communication.

Delusional, I ask him if he thinks we should finish the climb. He says no with an expression that makes me think this was a peculiar request. He says we should go down after he gets his ice axe. Next thing I know, I am alone again.

Falling ice bombards me and I feel stressed that our epic has only just begun. Although I don't like being pelted by ice, I am relieved to see that the cause of this storm is another party rappelling. I recognize them from town and one of them is an assistant rock guide I've met before. The guide stops, speaks to my partner, then continues down the 'snowy hill' pitch and stops when he reaches me.

I try to explain but I notice he is untying me and I become anxious. He points out that he has already secured me and will help me get down. How can he be so calm? I'm so confused! Well, good thing he arrived or else we might still be up there.

As he lowers me, I see the terrain with a different perspective. It's as though I'm watching behind-the-scenes-footage of my own stunt. I arrive at the base and stare at my crater mark in the snow. Again I notice how close it is to the rock slab. We slowly make our way down the snow slope to the valley where we left our packs at the beginning of the day.

The guide takes a photo of me, my partner and the Sorceror, the route that we didn't complete. As everyone packs for the hike out, I stand aimlessly and I don't feel real anymore. The others offer to help me pack; I decline, though I don't know where to begin. They notice the blank look on my face and start to give me step-by-step directions. "Take your crampons off and put them in your pack."

We are packed and need to hike out. Ugh. It takes much longer than hiking in. The sky is still clear but everything seems gray. My head is on fire and I can’t put much weight on my right side. Horribly banged up, I just want to go home. I don’t want to hear the stories the others are telling about people who have died climbing. My partner and I are mute. I long to see the familiar face of a loved one.

After our hike I sit in someone's van. My partner has told me to wait here while he goes to find our friends. People in the van are asking me questions and I want them to stop because I don't feel social. I feel like the shy little girl I once was -- lost and wondering if anyone is coming to get me. But, I'm excited when I see my ex-boyfriend walk towards the van. I hobble towards him. When we meet, reality overwhelms me and the fear of what happened sinks into my soul. “We had an accident,” I sob.

That was March 17, 2001 -- St. Patrick's Day. From the time of the incident to the time we arrived at the hospital, about ten hours had passed. This was due to location mostly but also because we had all planned to camp there. For a simple weekend excursion we had brought all the essentials: food, gear and beer. After checking me in the tent, my friends placed me in front of the already blazing fire. Ross, my dog, would normally demand my attention, but sat quietly by my side, ears down, a look of wary on his face. Everyone else packed up camp prematurely. It was decided that giving me beer would be a good substitute for the painkillers we neglected to pack.

I’ve never argued against a beer at the end of a good climbing day so I didn't object to a few super cans. When we arrived at the hospital a few hours later, I smelled of sweat, smoke and alcohol. The emergency room doctor on call thought we were drinking while climbing and reprimanded me.
He ordered X-rays of my neck and the technician consoled me about the doctor. She told me that Asshole 101 was a mandatory course in medical school. I sort of thought this was funny, buy my brother is a doctor and I didn't fully agree. After the X-rays, I was urged to stay at the hospital but given the choice of going home. I wasn’t feeling particularly welcome at the hospital with the angry doctor so I asked to be taken home with uncertain injuries and to embark on an emotional decent.

It's four in the morning as I sit nestled on the couch with blanket, my notebook and pen reflecting on how far I've come. In the end it was me who had to find me after all. It's been three years since the accident and memories of those few seconds are still so vivid I can close my eyes and relive everything at any moment. As I write, tears roll off my cheeks and fall on my words. I am privileged to feel little feet kicking eagerly in my tummy, flooding me with familiar feelings of peace, beauty and life. Feelings of reassurance that every second here in this simple life is worth it.

I wrote this story about three years ago and filed it away.

Since I was spit off by the Sorcerer, I've had a lot of personal mending to do. My emotional journey included years of anger, doubt, insecurity, and ultimately depression. The effects of the accident spilled over into every corner of my life. There were days I wished I had died in the accident. I faced fears that I never knew could exist and eventually I felt stripped raw of who I had always thought I was. Most days I walked a fine line between invincibility and fragility. Relationships took beatings. An emotional wreck, I fought with myself. The pain kept me from seeing all the great things around me.

Fortunately, good-hearted people helped me through. They helped me get out of the bath, tied my shoelaces, listened and provided a shoulder when I needed to cry. Others along the way simply gave me a chance. I am grateful for all these lovely people and will always be thankful to them.

My spirit was awakened during my adventure and I will take a lifetime of learning. Through it I was challenged to grow, to become stronger and to push forward in my endeavours. Forgiveness, trust and happiness will always have more poignant meanings for me but many questions are now settled. No longer do I endlessly question why it happened. No longer do I wonder why my life passion hurt me so badly. No longer do I question whether I have the emotional strength to climb. I am no longer imprisoned by negative thoughts. I see a brighter side of life, and moving on I am a new person, softened by a fall.

Although what I went through is something I wish upon no one and would not choose to experience again, it made me more passionate about life. I choose to live with laughter, love and smiles which are made easy because these are reciprocated so naturally by my son, Elias. This summer, while climbing at the Back of the Lake with many good old and new friends, I could see the sparkle in his eyes as he watched everyone who was climbing. "Do it all by the self...to the top! Good job! Give'er!" These are encouraging words to live by spoken by a two-year-old. I am so proud of him! He truly is the gift in my new life.

Shelley Nairn is a climber living in Canmore, [Alberta, Canada]

First published in Issue V9.01 02/03 2007
Gripped: The Climbing Magazine
Republished with permission.

Photos: Andrew Querner

i still love writing

We've been together for so many years, I was beginning to wonder if we could reignite the romance.

We don't always get along. One of us is often neglecting or abandoning the other. We don't always find each other very interesting. We don't always want to spend time together. We get tired of each other's company. We think we know each other too well.

We're wrong, of course. We're only getting to know one another. We've just rubbed away each other's shiny surfaces and neither of us, I suppose, knows what to do next with each other's dullness or our own.

We could marvel at how well we are beginning to fit, how little needs to be said, how we can finish each other's sentences. But we're not really communicating.

We're far from that edge where we used to meet. We don't go diving very often anymore. There is so little depth to our exchanges. When was the last time we took a risk together?

Oh, we still want to be a couple -- at least, I do. I'm not tearing up the vows. I don't think we've done each other any real harm. We've broken deals. We've disappointed each other. I guess that's a betrayal of sorts, but I don't think we're beyond forgiveness. I don't think it's too late to reconcile.

We're going to have to make some changes though.

We'll need to set some time aside just for us. Maybe go on dates again. Maybe stay home together, without a book, without a movie, without the Internet. Awaken our curiosity about each other. Stop making assumptions. Begin to explore each other again. We're not who we were when we met so shy and insecure way back then. We're not the same two who came together so passionately all those years later either, though.

If we agree to give this another try -- and I'd like that -- we're going to have to accept each other as imperfect as we are. We're going to have to accommodate each other and support each other. We need to meet each other where we are.

Who knows. We might even choose to pleasure each other again.

I have to admit I get a bit aroused just imagining the possibility.

commitment and confidence

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, the providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:

'Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!'

~ W. H. Murray in The Scottish Himalaya Expedition, 1951

I didn't say I would write -- if it:

• was convenient
• wasn't too hard
• was the right time of day
• wasn't painful
• was worthy of praise
• wasn't boring
• was publishable
• wasn't getting in the way of something else I'd rather do
• was earning me money
• wasn't embarrassing
• was prize-winning
• wasn't interfering with my sleep
• was original
• wasn't silly
• was entertaining
• wasn't the worst writing I'd ever done
• was brilliant
• wasn't rejected
• was well-received
• wasn't criticized
• was paid for
• wasn't ruining my social life
• was read by anyone

I didn't say I would write -- if I:

• was in the mood
• had something worthwhile to say
• had enough time
• was caught up with my chores
• was finished my other work
• was encouraged
• had enough energy
• wasn't distracted by something else
• was comfortable
• was on a roll
• was inspired
• wasn't too tired
• was willing
• was ready

I didn't say I would write -- if.

I said I would write.

I didn't say "until death do us part", but that's what I meant and I am very much alive.

I said I would write. I said I was a writer. Now I'm saying it again.

"I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings."

~ Thoreau from Walden, excerpted in Thoreau and the Art of Life

weighing in ~ week 28

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ ? pounds
Total weight loss ~ c. 35 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ c. 1.3 pounds
Current weight ~ c. 195

For the first time since I began this lightening journey, I didn't make it to my meeting tonight. Decided to stay home and keep my stuffed nose, sneezes, and weepy eyes to myself.

My work didn't get my full attention today either. I plodded along, but achieving any focus was more of a challenge than usual.

The day was far from a write-off, though. One of my phone calls (and a good long one) was with my niece. I don't have enough energy to do her justice here tonight, but within the next few days, I'll be introducing you to her and her writing.

So, please stay tuned!

weighing in ~ week 27

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Gained .6 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 35 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.3 pounds
Current weight ~ 195

This is no time to rest on my laurels, so last night I pushed the furniture aside and worked out with a new exercise DVD. Did I say "with"? (And does anyone remember on which side of the quotation marks the question mark should fall???) You know how it goes when someone introduces you to a few dozen new moves; I was glad no one was watching me. I didn't have to stop to catch my breath, but I did have to stop a hundred times to get back in sync and to stop laughing.

The results of the new DVD routine won't be showing for a while, but I'm fascinated by the definition of my shoulders and biceps now that they've shed their fatty blankets. I don't know what I did to earn firm round biceps (though getting food to one's mouth is probably a biceps exercise of sorts), but I like them. I like my calf muscles, too, but they aren't new either. They've worked themselves hard just carting my body around.

Now I'm focusing some effort on my saggy triceps and and tonight my quads are also feeling well-used. I had forgotten the slightly uncomfortable yet satisfying feeling of well-used muscles. Ahhhh.

Other weight loss perks I've treated myself to include new undergarments (TMI?) and it's almost time for new jeans again. I took a couple of bags of old jeans and shorts to a charity clothing bin the other night. Shorts will be next on my shopping list.

This eating right isn't always easy, but the results can sure be fun!

suffering is optional

I did not sit patiently through hours of what I thought was too much dialogue and too little action.

No matter how brilliant the ideas flying about the room, no matter how important the cause, no matter how passionate, experienced and wise the participants and, no matter how creative the process. In the face of a concrete crisis, following on-going warnings, the abstract and theoretical was still demanding and getting the spotlight.

Everyone but me seemed to be getting high on the intellectual cocktails.

It was days before I realized that my impatience with the group was also with myself. I was the one who needed to take immediate action.

That's when I made that phone call I'd been putting off for years while I'd been doubting my ability to turn my ideas into reality. But that's as far as I got and how many months ago was that?

That's when I decided to fire off that first note to connect with a person who was already doing what I wanted to do, but I stopped myself because her qualifications were so superior to mine, her experience so much more suitable. Besides, was that really what I still wanted to do -- help others to tell their stories? For all my imagination, I couldn't imagine the resources to gain such credentials. Nor could I imagine pursuing the path without them.

Imagine. Couldn't imagine or didn't muster up the courage to imagine? Didn't invest the time and energy to imagine?

Okay! I could have imagined. What made me think I couldn't? The idea that only the possible and probable could be imagined? Many great (and even not so great) inventors must have scoffed at that idea.

In any case, I burst my own bubble. It hardly made a sound.

Then I decided that until I could invent a better life for myself, I would accept, love, live and focus on the one I had. After all, it doesn't take much imagination to realize that I cannot enjoy or change anything about where I am if I'm not really here, does it?

The catch, though, is to avoid burying myself in the minutia of the present. The trick is not to busy myself and accept myself to death. The key is to keep moving forward and also looking in that direction.

Some would call it staying ready to push off from shore.

So, tonight I wrote the note. Tonight I fired off a signal across the unknown sea.

weighing in ~ week 26

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost 4.4 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 35.6 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.37 pounds
Current weight ~ 194.4

For the past few weeks, the skin has been telling the fat "Hey, you're melting too fast! Wait up! "

This week the melting fat looked back over its shoulder shouting, "Hey Skin! Catch up!"

weighing in ~ week 25

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Gained 1 pound
Total weight loss ~ 31.2 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.25 pounds
Current weight ~ 198.8

weighing in ~ week 24

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Gained .2 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 32.2 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.34 pounds
Current weight ~ 197.8

in the middle of something

I resist writing during in-between times, though writing may be exactly what would be best for me to do.

I've been noticing that I don't think of myself as a writer anymore. I would feel pretentious introducing myself that way. I also don't think of myself as much of a blogger.

My creativity seems to be taking a rest. I wonder what it's getting ready for.

weighing in ~ week 23

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Gained .2 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 32.4 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.41 pounds
Current weight ~ 197.6

weighing in ~ week 22

Walking gets easier and easier. Today I went out of my way a couple of times just to add a few more steps.

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost 2 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 32.6 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.48 pounds
Current weight ~ 197.4

weighing in ~ week 21

Less than a pound off target and that seems like good progress and an encouraging place to be. I'm also pleased to have crossed another marker or two.

I've been sitting at my desk and computer more than a healthy amount, though, so this week my goal is to get up and out for more exercise. I've found it helps to set a goal of how many "exercise points" I'd like to earn in the week. I've been averaging about 6, but I've been slacking off and I'm told when restarting not to aim too high. So, this week I'm aiming for 3 though I imagine once I get started again, 3 won't feel like enough.

Guess I better get rested up for tomorrow. Nighty, night.

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost 1.8 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 30.6 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.46 pounds
Current weight ~ 199.4

two choices

To post or not to post?

I'm responding by tidying up my desk, picking up the bedtime reading I promised myself and smiling about the full hour I'll allow myself to enjoy the pleasure of my choice.

This isn't really a post, BTW. I just want you to know I've been thinking about it.

one step towards a happy new year

I find it easy enough to hope for a happy new year and to wish one to others.

The bigger challenge is demonstrating the compassion and practicing the mindfulness that might contribute to my own happiness and the well-being of others.

I could spend the rest of the night and more writing my thoughts about this, and sharing everything I've learned about managing my own mood, but tonight after a day of unhelpful thinking and crankiness on my part, I believe getting to bed early might do the most for world peace.

I feel better already, just having acknowledged my less than best behaviour and having made the decision to end it -- at least for the day.

Hmmm. Maybe a happy new year is easier than it seems.

years

They didn't live to see it, but today was my parents' 65th wedding anniversary. Tonight while searching through my ancestry files for their marriage documents to scan and share with my brother, I also found this little old post card from an even earlier time.

grounding

I am a pod full of seeds bursting into a strong wind, not knowing quite where or how to land, not able to stay put after I touch down, not anywhere near ready to plant myself. Everywhere and nowhere at once. Dizzy from the spinning.

I am familiar with this experience yet unaccepting of it. I think I want to focus, settle, dig deeply into something, anything until I am done with it. I crave something complete. In place of my usual process-orientation, I am disoriented.

I imagine there is some cause, some reason, some wisdom at the bottom of this blurry whirling, I also imagine that I might be wrong.

I am here yet not here. I am outside myself, not quite close enough to be beside myself. Half way through this thought, I am peering into another place and time, another something that I want to do, that I think I ought to have done.

I want to anchor myself here until the storm passes. If I can just hang here, inside this box I call a blog, for one full post again, I may stand the chance of taking root.

I pause. I stop struggling. I sense a shift. I sink into this shelter.

I begin to hear my breath -- my little shallow breath -- slowing, deepening. Other sounds emerge and fade. A flight from the nearby airport disappears into the distance. The rattle in my left ear takes a break. Even the fridge hushes it humming.

There is nothing else I need to do in this moment. There is nothing I need to hold onto to be sure I won't forget to think of it later. There is nothing undone that I need to remember to carry forward, nothing to follow up on.

I feel comfort. I feel peace. Purposeful without productivity. Attending to the basics of now. And here is where it dawns on me that I am not a pod of seeds. I never was.

I was the wind. Now I am the calm.

weighing in ~ week 20

Phew! That was a challenging week!

I was aiming to loose my first 30 pounds before the end of the year and to start the new year weighing less than 200, but my behaviour was out of line with my intentions so I missed the mark.

Just another friendly reminder from my body that the key word in watching my weight is watching. And this kind of watching requires paying attention.

So, this is where I begin my new week with my new intention to limbo under that 200 pound bar next Thursday night. I'll let you know how it goes.

Weekly Summary:
Weekly change ~ Lost/Gained 0 pounds
Total weight loss ~ 28.8 pounds
Average weekly weight loss ~ 1.44 pounds