Every woman (and perhaps a few men) will understand what I mean when I say:

"I'm having a Fat Day"

'Fat Day' is not actually a period of time lasting 24 or less hours, for which the subject obsesses about her/his weight.  'Fat Day' is a state of mind - nothing is right about you phisically, emotionally, mentally. 

    You pick on your own imperfections, see bulges/wrinkles/zits that arent there, hate your chicken legs or muscular arms, things jiggle that shouldnt, things that should dont.....
    You're stupid, slow, compared to everyone else, your mistakes are frequent and obvious and everyone is lauging at you; you're in awe at how everyone else has thought about life - the universe - everything - and figured it all out, and you punish yourself for being left behind, being so caught up in yourself, or just being too dumb to see the bigger picture...
    You let your emotions rule you, you're irresponsible, you have no idea how to act in social situations, or - even worse - you do, and no matter what, you can't just act properly, be like everyone else, NORMAL - you're a wierdo, a freak, and no one can understand you because you don't make any sense...

AND ITS ALL YOUR FAULT.

This is 'Fat Day'.  It does not last for only 24 hours.  You can wake up in 'Fat Day' or it can creep up on you, a silent stalker.  It may be gone after a few hours, (or drinks); it may stick around for days, weeks, months.  Some people live in a permanent 'Fat Day'. 

Growing up, I lived in 'Fat Day': I was the largest, most muscular girl on a 25 girl gymnastics team ("built like a brick shit-house, power of a Mac Truck").  I can tell you, and I'm sure its not difficult to imagine, that this was very harsh for the developing ego of a 8 - 13 year old girl.  I also attended an all girls private school.  The most important thing I learned here is that girls are viscious creatures (not women, girls).  I didnt wear glasses, I had very clear skin, I have beautiful blue eyes.  So they picked on my solid frame, sweating, and frizzy hair.  I was a good student (for the most part) so I was branded a "suck up", "brown noser", and "teachers pet".  No amount of theatre training will develop the ability to act non-chalant and flippant while dying on the inside like being in an all girls highschool will.

Through a series of boyfriends I craved attention - "I'm fat", "How can you date me?  You could do so much better...", "It's just as well that one of us will amount to something in this life."  (Oh, and the serial monogomist was also "a slut" in high school).  I believed these things, I said the things I had been taught that I was supposed to say - everyone else saw me that way, why shouldnt my boyfriend?  These were met with non-commital, generic responses: "I love you for who you are", "You're not fat, you're voluptuous", "No-one's perfect".

My most recent lover, soul partner, teacher, companion (he is so much more than a boyfriend) brought me out of my 'Fat Day' with two words:

"You're Beautiful"

At first I retreated behind the curtain of denial, making excuses ("He knows to say what I want to hear to get what he wants").  I made it clear that I knew what he was up to, and that I would continue making him happy without him lying to me.  But he just kept saying it.  Random moments - making breakfast in his old Rugby jersey, reading, working behind the bar - I would catch him watching me and he would always say the same thing, as though it were a simple fact of existence itself - "You're Beautiful".

So I began to see it.  First in the obvious places: my eyes, smile, laugh.  Then not so much: the strength of my shoulders, the curve of my neck, my love of literature.  And then it was....I am beautiful.  I began to see myself, believe myself to be that.  And I didnt need to hear it anymore, but he kept saying it.

We have been separated (in distance only) for the past 3 months, and will be so for another 9 or 10.  And I have been slipping back into 'Fat Day' - I'm not taking care of myself, eating right, exercising enough, I have zits, I just cant do anything right.  I began to deny compliments again - I found myself resenting those who used words as a means to an end.  Understandably, people got more and more frustrated, and I kept getting 'Fatter'.

It took one man, a new chef in the resteraunt at which I'm a waitress, to open my eyes to this bizarre situation.  I came in to pick up some appetizers, said thank-you, and he said:

"You're welcome, Beautiful."
I stopped - I had just walked headlong into a wall of ice, and my body was painfully remembering how to feel again.
"Dont say things like that.  I might start believing you."  Flippant, non-chalant, highschool girl.
"Alrighty Beautiful...."

He hasnt stopped saying it, and my 'Fat Day' is over.  All it takes is two simple words.  Now I just have to learn to say them for myself.

Hard To Concentrate

Hustle, bustle and so much muscle awww
Cells about to seperate
And I find it hard to concentrate and

Temporary this cash and carry
I'm stepping up to indicate
The time has come to deviate and

All I want is for you to be happy and
Take this moment to make yoiu my family and
Finally you have found something perfect and
Finally you have found

Death defying this mess I'm buying
It's raining down with love and hate
And I find it hard to motivate and

Estuary is blessed but scary your
Heart's about to palpitate
And I'm not about to hesitate and

One to treasure the rest of your days here and
Give you pleasure in so many ways dear and
Finally you have found something perfect and
Finally you have found... here we go

Do you want me to show up for duty and
Serve this woman and honor her beauty and
Finally you have found something perfect
Finally you have found... yourself

With me... Will you... agree... to take
This man... into your world...
And now... we are as one...

My lone ranger the heart exchanger
Is living in this figure eight
And I'll do my best to recreate and

Sweet precision and soft collision awww
Hearts about to palpitate
And I find it hard to seperate and

All I want is for you to be happy and
Take this woman and make you my family and
Finally you have found someone perfect and
Finally you have found... yourself

 

- Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Stadium Arcadium" 

I just finished my weekly Salsa class.  

I am hot, my clothes are soaked with sweat, my feet hurt, my arms and thighs ache – and I'm happy.  For 2 hours every Thursday night its about the beat – the feel of my body - my freedom to move, to laugh. 

All of the other life-clutter has to surrender to me, my moment.  They are not forgotten, they simply cannot touch me.  I move too fast, too fluidly for these stagnant thoughts.  They cannot feel the beat.  They are lifeless.  This is what salsa is for me: living with perfect freedom.  There is no fear, even if you dont know whats coming next, because there is an understanding that you really cant do anything wrong.  As long as you accept - embrace - the beat.

Thats Life too, really.   No matter what choices you make, the world will not stop turning.  That constant guiding rhythm is always there, regardless of the changing melody.  The world spins, day follows night, the seasons change, things are born, die, and are reborn.  The minutes, hours, days follow one another at the heels, but all are moving to one pulse.  And there is natural perfection....

But its too easy to lose the beat in a society concerned with constructs and structural perfection.  Music is computerised.  It is generated based on technical/mathematical properties to make it theoretically perfect.  We live in a world that tells us we must stop when we make a mistake, go back and do it again and again and again until our routine is perfect.  Living becomes a chore, an obligation.  Perfection is the impossible goal - the video game we can never win.  Trapped within the prisons of our own existence.  And every time we break that connection with the beat it gets a little harder to start again.

I know why the caged bird sings....

Because that melody comes straight from the heart.  It is a vehicle for emotion, spirit and desire.  Every bird that lives its life behind bars dreams of freedom.  What would the world look like if people danced for the sheer joy of feeling that delicious sensation of movement, every muscle working in tandem, the fluidity and grace of the human form? 
What would the world sound like if the creation of music became the art of science, rather than the science of art?  If it just happened, because that was how it was meant to be, if we never lost the beat?  We would still make mistakes, but there would be space for them, they could be accepted, and perhaps become the foundation for a new choreography.  This is the fine art of living.  It's raw, beautiful, honest.  And difficult.  There will always be sweat, dizzy spells, sore muscles and aching feet.

But I will never stop dancing....

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

by
Oriah Mountain Dreamer
copyright © 1999 by Oriah Mountain Dreamer.

Loquat Lovin' 

 

Don'cha look up my short skirt
playful flirt
laughin' tease
through de trees
led by a cool breeze
that tickles my
upper thigh
like a lovers caress,
carryin' your citrus scent.

Revel in de taste of your kiss
tangy-tart
on the tip-of-my-tongue sweetness.
Bite into your juicy skin
liquid passion
flowin' out an' in-
between you and my puckered mouth
that splits in-two
a childish grin
spillin' seeds of laughter
as the honey'd memory of our teasin' mouths
slides down my throat;
that cool, full-bellied pleasure.

Feelin' you, soft an' firm
under my lips.
Touchin' barely with our fingertips,
stroke away de supple skin...
Look within. 
Reach inside.
How many secrets do you hide?

Whispers restin' on de grass.
Let day pass
an' de night rain down
like a dark sea
to rise an' swell
crashin' waves
over, under, into, through us;
tempestuous!
De motion of dis ocean of our emotion
rockin' us to sleep
in each others
arms.

Gimme your seed....

Under her careful watch -

motha moon, she illuminates dis grass altar, and clothed only in de shadows of dese trees

We will perform
Earth Magic.

Regenerate -
dis circle self-perpetuates:
Be fruitful and multiply.
All natural,
yours and my
Loquat Lovin'.

I wonder if she’ll ever lose

that purity of soul;

the hope of touching a sparrows wing

feeling the softest brush of

fragile feather between fat pink fingers;

the laughing wonder in watching

them take flight

just out of reach so,

beautiful….

 

I return to myself

an object in the hands of men

– beaten

– indifferent

– glorified

for being who I am:

the swing of my hip,

the curve of my lip,

the promise in my voice that says “so,

beautiful…”

 

I return to my body,

tattooed and pierced

bearing the more violent and exquisite marks

of a world that’s been seen

that doesn’t recognise good intentions

or understand just how hard

you tried….

to laugh in that moment when they took flight,

the softest brush of feathered fingertips…

 

As I return to who I’ve become

since my days of white dresses:

a creature of hope,

a creature of love,

a creature of dreams,

a creature of essential, unstoppable female energy –

I wonder,

‘Am I really that far of a cry from my innocence?’

 

For my Father,

I will always be your baby girl.

                        -R

It's the happiest place on Earth. 

Skulling around on GoogleNews, as you do, I came across a really cool article...

(On a totally different note - did you know that the verb "to Google" is officially in the dictionary?!)

http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601085&sid=aon_AwjV_o5k&refer=europe

Vanuatu, Pacific Islands, Lead U.S., World in Happiness Ranking

July 12 (Bloomberg) -- Vanuatu, a group of South Pacific islands populated by fisherman and farmers, is the world's happiest place, according to a study published today.

The U.S. and U.K. are among the world's least happy countries because of their higher consumption of natural resources such as oil, according to an index compiled by the New Economics Foundation, a London-based researcher. The biggest malcontents were in Zimbabwe, ranking bottom.

Vanuatu is slightly larger than Connecticut and has a population of 209,000, according to the Central Intelligence Agency. The inhabitants of the islands live for about 69 years, about eight less than Americans, and economic output per person is $2,944, a 13th of that in the U.S.

``People can live long, happy lives without using more than their fair share of the earth's resources,'' said the report, published on the foundation's Web site today.

What more can I say? 

We're killing the earth.  Mother Nature, as beautiful and resiliant as she is, cannot compete with humankind's self-centred obsession with having "MORE".  More than what?  More than the next person; more than now; more just because theres more to have, theres always more to have...

Political theorist John Locke developed a Social Contract from the paradigm of a right to the means to survive - the concept of 'enough' from which modern society, we, humankind, have become so estranged.  The world was given to mankind in common.  In order to abide by the Law of Nature: to preserve one's own life and liberty without encroaching on any other's right to the same - man is entitled to make use of as much of this common property as he may 'enjoy':

"As much as anyone can make use of to any advantage of life before it spoils, so much by his labor he may fix a property in; whatever is beyond this, is more than his share, and belongs to others." (II. v. 31)

What does it really mean then 'to enjoy'?  What does one really need, what is enough, for enjoyment?  Enjoyment of what?  Life, love, liberty, nature, food, water, the color purple, breathing....

I mourn our loss of connection with these most simple, yet essential, pleasures.  Inwardly I weep, as I take in the world we, society, consumerism, has created: a world governed by schedules, obligations, time, constantly moving, our impossible chase, trying to keep up, trying to keep ahead, fast cars, fast food, fast mail, fast women.  A world poisoned by money, material wealth that becomes the defining factor of who we are, why we exist.  Its like being pulled through the eye of a needle.  The world becomes so small and insignificant, decorated with the jewellery of life - worthless, fickle, empty trinkets - and we submit ourselves to this shrinking existence.  We willingly turn and curl our backs against the reality, the stark and difficult beauty of the world.  Because its easier to define ourselves with physical objects.   But we get locked in this cycle of 'never enough' because the material world is not, and can never be, fully satisfying.  

I can feel my soul wail, I feel the pain of a child watching the torture of her Mother, Her slow death.  Tears flood my eyes, I cannot watch as we ignorantly destroy this beautiful Earth.  So often I feel powerless.  I have to escape.  Find a place to have the freedom to my right to life, somewhere that I have enough.  I dont ask for much:

A house, room for two, with a porch, near the water, and animals.  A place to write; time to read, think; space to be, for the simple pleasure of doing so.  A lover, a friend, my soulmate.  I wear my swimsuit and torn jeans.  I wear flipflops.  I dance in the rain wearing stilettos and a guy's shirt.  A moment to feel how small I really am, and how powerful it is to embrace my tiny place, intrinsically, essentially connected to something so magnificent...

There you have it.  Its official.  I'm moving to Vanuatu. 

If you're interested in reading more about the New Economic Foundation and the Happy Planet Index, visit www.neweconomics.org 

Smile on,

R* 

 

Sorry guys,

 I dont really keep a blog.  I actually have a journal that I write in - I love the look of the pages filling up with black ink  - my relaxed loose scripture loping over the creamy smooth paper.  My thoughts just flow better.  And I dont have to do spell-check.  Love it. Typing just doesnt have the same effect.

But if youre interested, just want to talk about something, leave me a message.

I'll also use this space to post poetry, thoughts, questions.  Lets see where we go from there?

R*