Archive | November, 2011

Daft Logic

28 Nov

Exercise does not equal eating.  And, that is some BULLSHIT I do not want to hear.

Especially on Thanksgiving.

I know!  I know!  Jamie needs to breathe…

Maybe it’s because I’ve done this math before.  The how long must I do before I can (?!!!) consume nourishment faulty, INSANE, UNHEALTHY, load-of-crap, WRONG equations before.  Maybe it’s because I believed the math was true.

(Truth:  This math is NEVER true!)

Maybe it’s because I made my mother drive me to the rink gym on my day off so that I could elliptical to nowhere before I ate my meager lunch meal of the day.


I do NOT want to hear about a yoga pose exchange for your Thanksgiving meal.  I’m just saying.  How is this okay?  Gracious?  Nourishing?!!!

I practice yoga because it makes me feel good.  I practice yoga because it is an affirmation of my body and that it is alive and transforming.  I practice yoga because it nourishes me.

Guess what…

  Food does all of these things too!

I hope your Thanksgiving was YUMMY and nourishing.  And, when you exercise, I hope that you find it to be delicious too.  In SPITE, of whatever you eat.  That’s my kind of logic!


Thank YOU

24 Nov

You have what YOU need.  Yourself.

A gift from Elizabeth Gilbert:

So tonight I reach for my journal again. This is the first time I’ve done this since I came to Italy. What I write in my journal is that I am weak and full of fear. I explain that Depression and Loneliness have shown up, and I’m scared they will never leave. I say that I don’t want to take the drugs anymore, but I’m frightened I will have to. I am terrified that I will never really pull my life together.
In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now-familiar presence, offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled. This is what I find myself writing on the page:

I’m here. I love you. I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long. I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don’t need the medication, I will love you, too. There’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and Braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

Tonight, this strange interior gesture of friendship—the lending of a hand from
me to myself when nobody else is around to offer solace—reminds me of something that happened to me once in New York City. I walked into an office building one afternoon in a hurry, dashed into the waiting elevator. As I rushed in, I caught an unexpected glance of myself in a security mirror’s reflection. In that moment, my brain did an odd thing—it fired off this split-second message: “Hey! You know her! That’s a friend of yours!” And I actually ran forward toward my own reflection with a smile, ready to welcome that girl whose name I had lost but whose face was so familiar. In a flash instant of course, I realized my mistake and laughed in embarrassment at my almost doglike confusion over how a mirror works. But for some reason that incident comes to mind again tonight during my sadness in Rome, and I find myself writing this comforting reminder at the bottom of the page.

Never forget that once upon a time, in an unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a FRIEND…

I fell asleep holding my notebook pressed against my chest, open to this most recent assurance.

Happy Thanksgiving!  So grateful…