i'm back

after a ridiculous divergence, i awoke this morning with aching joints and completely unrested.  wheat, sugar, and preservatives strike again....why do i let them?

that's for a WHOLE other post (or blog even).

but, i'm back to myself.

so, today begins the second challenge that i put forth for myself.

the goal of these next thirty days is to eat 100% primal.  again, this means: meats, eggs, nuts, a shit-ton of vegetables, and some fruit.  my one vice is chocolate.  i'm not going to punish myself by removing it, however, i will limit myself to the fantastic 99% superdark that i've found.  also in my goal: adding one raw salad a day and eating seaweed twice a week.  my major issue is having the food readily available.  i've got a couple tricks up my sleeve though and i'll tell you about them as i execute them.

eating well is not a vanity issue for me.  i've been thinner on really unhealthy foods, but i've never felt better than eating like a cave girl.  yet again, the point has been driven home that my body, the only me that there is, does not like eating any other way.

new breath

it's been getting deep around here!  i've kind of fallen off from the primal path.  it's making me verbose.

tomorrow will mark the beginning of my own 30 day challenge.  i will come up with a new one for myself every thirty days.  i bore easily and challenges do motivate me.  i'm competitive enough that increased health may not be sufficient.  i have to beat something.  stupid, i know, but i yam what i yam.

duality

there are two of me.  i think that this is probably true for everyone.  i certainly hope that it is.  there is the me of sunlight, loud laughter, and bubbling energy.  there is the other me; the me of the shadows.

strictly a human condition, duality can leave us (and those who love us) confused.

who will i be in the next five minutes?

it is this capacity for choice, this intelligence that can separate us from other animals.  to me, it is often a source of my depression.  the rejection of my shadow can make me one-dimensional.  i feel best in the sunlight, but is that only because i have can compare it to the shadow?

i think the idea of the dumb cave girl is a myth.  i believe that my ancestor was incredibly intelligent.  was her psychology far different from mine?  was there even a concept of a person's duality?  these are modern concepts, apparently.  it wasn't until freud  in a cocaine-induced frenzy came up with the theory that what makes us who we are is not what we see, but the mystery that lies underneath the visible.

maybe.

or maybe we just think too much.

is there a place for such self-indulgent thought processes when one is foraging with one's tribe? or building a shelter on a spontaneous field trip?  or when dancing around a fire?  or running really, really fast from a predator?  or dancing hard around a fire?  or having sex because it feels good?

we have moved from our bodies to our brains.  when i set up camp in my brain, sit back and let the thinking begin, i can pretty much guarantee that depression, and his brothers, anxiety and fear, will rapidly be joining me.  but, when i move deep into my muscles, feeling the strength of my thighs, the power of my arms, the stability of my torso, the wave of my spine, and the domed structure of my feet, like sinewy temples, i know that i move beyond emotions completely.  i have moved away from narrow psychology.  i have stepped into being.  i am an animal again.  i can channel my intelligence into movement and sensory exploration.  i no longer have to judge my shadow.  it doesn't need to be rejected.  it is just a different movement.

my shadow is the slow stretch.  it is the skin's reaching toward moonlight.

to be beautiful

i am at the ocean.  i'm watching the waves slam into the sand as i write this.  the sea is reflecting the sun as shimmers of light.  there is a steady rhythm that hypnotizes me, but awakens me at the same time.  it awakens an ancient part of me.  the part that is the most primal stretches out in the base of my neck and remembers.  i may not know why the caged bird sings, but i do know why the fish out of water gasps.

yesterday, paddling out on my board, the waves would rise up right in front of me, the light would pierce the mystery of the wave, and schools of fish were shown to me.  dozens, hundreds of little fish were surfing the waves.  early this morning, earlier than i can wake up in my landlocked life, the waves were crashing far off shore.  there were dolphin.  they were leaping out of the water, flipping, splashing.  then they were SURGING through the water, then they were one with the waves.  five, six at a time riding through the wave.  the wave would fill up, reach forward to the shore, and in its bulk were a half dozen dolphin actually surfing.

two nights ago, i lay in bed feeling the numbness of too much fatigue and too much sadness.  my nerves were so overcharged from those two stressors, that i felt nothing.  the tall man mentioned my sister being gone and the switch was flipped.  the tears poured down into the pockets of my ears.  my ears filled with the sadness and it leaked out onto the pillow.  i could feel him caressing my arm as if in a faraway place and could barely hear anything over my sobs.  when i was calm enough to speak again, he asked me what it was that i needed.  what i needed.  what i needed.

when i saw the fish rising up as a unit, the dolphin playing like children in the waves, i knew what i needed.  what i need is to be in my environment with people that i love.

now i am here.  salt crystals are flaking on my skin.  the tall man and the medium boy are here.  i try not to focus on my sister who is missing from here.  i know that she is present in a dry place near the rio grande.  i do believe in blossoming where one is planted.  reach always for the sun and dig your roots deep.  but, it's decidedly harder to bloom in ground that is not ideal.  blue-green saltwater on my skin, sand between my toes, sun on my neck warming my reptilian brain, and the rhythm of the water is where i open up most easily.  my limbs stretch out in every direction seeking out the sun.  my colors deepen to their most vibrant.  i am as beautiful as nature intended me to be.

take a break

cave girl and the city: part 2

in haiti, i have two dear friends that saw the change in me since i went back to living like a cave girl.  "you look so happy!"  "i can see how healthy you feel in your smile!"  "you practically shine!"  "wow, you're able to life such heavy things!"  "you beat me and the elevator by going up the stairs?  you are so fast!"

then, i came back to the states: "have you lost weight?"  "you look like you've lost weight!"  "you're looking thinner!"  "wow, you've lost weight!"

i've gone back and forth with diets all my life.  my mother was overweight and her example was one crazy diet after another.  there was the nothing but boiled chicken diet, the diet coke diet, the cabbage soup diet, the grapefruit diet, the leave-in acupuncture ear needles diet, etc.

i started dancing when i was twelve and felt the pressure to be smaller and smaller.  luckily, i danced folklore (like african dance, but with a lot more booty-shaking) as well as ballet.  folklore required that i be strong, not ballet fragile.

when i went to college, i flirted with eating disorders.  to my advantage, puking grosses me out and i can never go very long without food.  BUT, overeating?  THAT sounds like fun!  and pack it away, i could!

i stopped dancing.  i started "working out" in the way that americans do.  an hour on the treadmill, aerobics classes...nothing that was enjoyable, but things that were "necessary".

and so my body became my enemy.  it was something that needed fed all the time.  eating the carb-heavy american diet put me on a crazy roller-coaster of hungry and overfull.  doing "workouts" instead of moving to the music or playing on the field stuck me in front of the mirror with a lot of criticism.

there is still a epidemic confusion that skinny means healthy.  there is still the misconception that the slender girl is the happy girl.  we've all been sold a bill of goods that says if we can just lose 15 pounds, life will be everything that we wish it was.

i've been losing my way lately.  my eating has gotten erratic, movement has become something of a chore.  my recent desire has been to keep the weight loss going.  this is very anti-cave girl.  it's hard to rise up against the crushing tide of different priorities.  and my core priorities are very different than those of society.

when i move from health based living to wanting to lose weight, certain damaging behaviors raise their ugly little heads.  losing weight, being thin, as a goal is futile, fleeting, and potentially dangerous.  wanting to run faster, throw farther, sleep deeper, eat better, be stronger...these are things that one can have a greater measure of control, but most importantly, it is FUN.  it is PLAY.  remember being five years old?  that was when hopping was challenging.  that was when climbing a tree all by your big girl self was something that filled you with pride.  jumping rope was done to rhymes.  do you remember the way the inside of the house was cool and dark after the bright sun outside?  do you remember how red your face got when you were running as hard as you could?

i can't imagine cave girls wanting to grow up to be models.  i can't imagine cave girls worrying about an extra inch to pinch.  these girls were strong.  they were valued by what they could DO.  it was so much more important to be able to run away from a tiger carrying a toddler on your back than to fit into this year's loin cloth.

i'm trying to see myself, my body, as my tool.  it is my way to experience all the pleasures of this world: the breeze on my skin when i ride the bike, the tickle of grass under my feet as i run, the sun on my eyelids when i nap outside.  i am not an ornament or a statue.  i am dynamic.

to love a wild thing

i am different from other people.  the pat answers of parents, the church, society, and school have never been enough for me.  it has led me to search all my life for answers that are deeper, truer, and, possibly, harder to accept.

i have lived thirty-six years so far and i plan on living 2 more times that.  some of the things that i've learned so far are more like remembering things that i've always known, that my body has always known.

i do not believe in god.

i do not believe in societies' structures as truth.

i do not believe in eating things that were manufactured in a factory.

i do not believe in spandex.

i do not believe in "the family unit" as based on blood.

 i do not believe in doing something that makes one miserable just to pay the bills.

i do not believe in chasing the american dream.

i do not believe in farming as an industry.

i do not believe that surgically altering one's body increases beauty.

i do not believe that the fashion industry gets to dictate my self-worth.

i do not believe that inside the house is more valuable than outside the house.

i do not believe that progress is progress.

i do not believe in western medicine as preventative.

i do not believe that humans have been divinely endowed dominion over the earth and other creatures.

i do not believe in thong underwear.

i do not believe in polyester.

i do not believe in CNN.

i do not believe that food should have a shelf life.

i do believe in love.

cheesy, you say?  maybe.   all my life, i've believed in it as something pure, noble, and life-altering.  the problem with being a wild thing is that most people find wild things intimidating, unruly, and a tad frightening.  what happens to a wild thing that needs love but doesn't know how to find those willing to love a wild thing?  she quiets down.  she learns to laugh quietly so as not to disturb the peace.  she wears a thong and learns to smile through the discomfort.  she uses big words, reads a lot of books, and learns to wear pearls.  she blows her hair dry and covers her true face with "frosted cognac" lips and "mossy dream" eyes.  she stops eating when she's hungry.  she stops moving to the beat of her own drum.  she learns to walk in step.

until she can't anymore.  hunger for blood pushes her to eat to her fill.  the books get set down while she hears her own opinions, her own instincts flood through her mind.  she tosses the thong.  she laughs louder than anyone else in the room.  it's her roar, her power.

and she walks naked into the rain to bathe.

when the mid-summer morning sun shines through silver rain clouds, she rises from her sleep and hears the tickle of the drops on the tin roof.  she smells the earth-mineral-green of the water.  she gasps at how cold it is at it pricks her shoulder, her nipple, her nose. she breaks into a loud laugh.  the water cleanses her of sleep, of sheets, of inside air.  with her feet planted in the earth, her body touched by the wet, and her arms reaching for the sky, she is wild.  she knows who she is.

he watches her through the window, sipping coffee, and smiling.  he disappears for a minute.  he comes back with a towel that he sets wordlessly down near her.

a towel after the rain; that is how to love a wild thing.