A day in pictures…
She calls herself fat but to me, according to her photo in the article, she just looks like an attractive woman with brown hair.
The comments on the original article are less than accepting of her choice to care more about her spirit and less about her body. I just cannot wrap my head around why people feel it’s okay to judge another human being just because they choose a different path in life–a path their SPIRIT tells them is better in order to be happy. Happy people tend to be healthier people so I don’t understand the problem here.
One comment stated “It sounds like she just gave up.” Gave up what? Starving herself? Being obsessed with her body? Worrying that Oh My God I might not fit into those size 4 jeans if I eat this slice of pizza?
If you are an athlete or you are into the gym and fitness etc. and doing it in a healthy way that makes your spirit happy, that is fantastic. However, not everyone is into that and believe it or not, even with a few extra pounds in their pants, they are still healthy and happy.
So far, most of the comments have been dictating to her how she’s setting herself up for health problems down the road.
Granted, obesity can cause health issues but so does yoyo dieting, improper nutrition and yes, excessive and compulsive behavior associated with obsessing over your weight and pants size. If she’s happier not working out like an athlete and not starving herself to stay a size 4, that is her choice, just as adult who is naturally thin and eats garbage food all day and leads a sedentary life should not have to answer to anyone’s criticisms.
There is a freedom that washes over your spirit when you let go of the pressure to be something on the outside that you aren’t on the inside. It’s not about giving up. To me, it’s about loving yourself the way you are and taking good care of your spirit.
After all, isn’t that what we always preach? Your spirit is what makes you beautiful, not your pants size, right?
I go through phases where I internalize things and it takes a breakthrough of some kind to pop the cork and allow the pressure to escape in a fountain of liquid bubbles of thoughts and words.
I went to dinner last night with two of my besties. Some words that had been contained for a while escaped but I mostly listened and enjoyed allowing my lovies to share their own feelings and release pressures of their own in their own way. I do share bits and pieces of myself with those intimately close but often my emotions are channeled in basic ways that only the most trusted individuals know and understand.
I often listen to the pressures of others. I am able to allow their troubles to pass through me. I feel their pain, joy and struggles and then most of the emotion scatters like dust in a ray of sunlight, and the words and memory of the conversation remains almost verbatim…if that makes sense. If they only know what they share and how it clings to me like tiny invisible particles of light and darkness that my soul retains.
Without being able to describe exactly what has been happening in my day to day life that has kept me away, I can share the emotion part by saying I’ve been feeling blessed, worried, anxious, frustrated, confused, concerned, hopeful and loved. Strange combinations of things from day to day. But isn’t that what living is all about?
I don’t expect to be happy all of the time. I don’t expect to feel content or unsettled either. I do believe though that this bottle of bubbles is due to my inability lately to write as much as I normally do. I’ve been so busy out in the real world that I haven’t had the time to focus and write that I have had in recent months. Book launch, marketing, brain storming and life’s usual callings have whittled down those precious hours.
Writers have to write or they’ll go crazy. We have to pop that cork and pour out our soul into a glass. We have to raise the glass and watch the bubbles rise and swirl around until we tip them to our lips and swallow them down again…one sip at a time. They become something else. They liquefy and settle and become clear until we’re drunk on all of the feelings and can finally put them in the right order to where they make sense…and we give it all to total strangers who over the course of thousands of words FINALLY give us the true release.
That’s when the story gets told. That’s where the tears and the laughter live. The circumstances that created the pressure and bubbles, fade away and all we’re left with are how those incidents made us feel and why we bottled them up to begin with.
Then, they become someone else’s feelings–someone else’s woes and triumphs and failures. We pour them into words and create worlds where those feelings can run free and be expressed without having to put a cork in them and then we hand them out into the world in hopes that the world will accept them.
…and when the bottle is empty…we fill it again.
Amen to this! I’ve been through a whole lot of storms and each one has washed away the burdens, the strife, the need to be perfect or of feeling incomplete, and I’m stronger and more fulfilled than I could have ever imagined. I don’t have or need “things” to make me feel important and certainly not to make me happy. My life is far from perfect. My bank account is always on E at the end of the month but I have been so blessed to be able to surround myself with an amazing cast of players who have stood through those storms with me, put up with my bullshit and mistakes and who have welcomed me to do the same for them, while others washed away.
Together, we will ride out this storm with no umbrellas or raincoats, and no shelter except for each other but what more do we really need? You have to know who your people are, through both the gentle spring showers and the violent, hard rain that comes at you from every direction, as you dodge lightning strikes and the thunder shakes your house. The ones who slap you hard when you need it and the ones who wipe your tears. The ones who stand by you when you’re on top and the ones who pick you up when you fall. If you haven’t figured out yet who they are, you better get busy figuring it out.
My heart hurts because one of these people will be moving on to the next life very soon. A Matriarch. A woman who’s respect had to be earned but who’s love was unquestionable. She’d give you that slap and then wipe your tears, reminding you that life isn’t fair but at the same time showing you every damn second of it is worth it – even the storms. What an honor and privilege it has been to be a part of her life for the past twenty years.
Oh the blessings I live with, that I cherish and am so thankful for.
All of them rainbows and flowers after the storms.
My beautiful family and friends.
My wonderful children and grandchildren.
Here comes the thunder.
Let it rain. Let it rain.