New Understanding

It’s strange, but I am understanding new things about the world all the time. I now understand why some middle-aged women cut their hair short (or shorter) — it’s the awkwardness of grey hairs growing in. Another one: some people become alcoholics because they are punishing themselves for something, and are actually slowly committing suicide. One more: when we think of aliens, we think of “the greys,” but they aren’t necessarily real. They became well-known after the TV show “The X Files,” which is just a show, not a documentary!

Freakonomics coverI’ve been reading Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner lately. In it, they look at all kinds of trends and statistics to try and figure out why the world is the way it is. No subject is taboo, and they are careful not to confuse morality with causality; just because something ought not to happen, doesn’t mean it doesn’t. As a result, I have a much better understanding of how urban street-life and drug culture work. The authors actually got financial records from a gang in Chicago, and a sociology student hung out with the gang members and made notes on what he learned. The over-arching theme in Freakonomics is incentive — what makes people do the things they do — and it’s becoming terribly interesting to me. (With my introverted nature, I never really thought about this much before.) The incentive to be a drug dealer? To be recognized, to be popular, to get rich — very similar to an aspiring actor: to be one of the very few to make it big.

Sometimes, I get a new flash of understanding by reading/learning something, and other times it comes as a flash of insight — something more akin to intuition. I had a truly startling flash-revelation when I was in Wrigley. One morning, in that state between sleep and wakefulness, an image and a sentence came to mind: “If I get big enough, maybe they will leave me alone.” The really big girl I had met recently was obese because she was trying to keep men from bothering her. She had been abused and the thought that came through to me was crystal clear. It is sad, but I guess that is her coping strategy… I just don’t know if it’s working.

That flash of insight lead to this:

When you hate yourself, you are less healthy (which includes being overweight).

Many people would say I have it backwards: they hate themselves when they are overweight. But I believe it goes the other way. Why? Because the reverse is true:

When I like myself the most, I am naturally thin and healthy.

It is easy, and it doesn’t seem to matter much what I eat. The “work,” if you want to call it that, is in liking myself, because I’m human too, and sometimes I get into a habit of complaining about myself more than appreciating.

The thing is, you can’t fake liking yourself. Remember how Freakonomics is all about incentives? You can’t ask “what’s my incentive to like myself more? To be THIN!” That just reinforces the idea that you are not okay unless you are thin — a message that has saturated the media, although I am happy to see more normal body images popping up all the time.

But this blog post is not about being thin. It’s about understanding things, and how a new perspective changes everything. So let me summarize a few of my latest revelations:

  • When I tell myself “I don’t feel like being grumpy today. I want to be happy!” I am well on the way to being happy.
  • When I focus on what I have to work with, rather than what I am lacking, I become like MacGyver — solving problems, coming up with innovative solutions, and being a hero (at least to myself)!
  • When I am grateful for everything around me, I am overwhelmed with contentment.
  • When I am happy about who I am, health comes easily.
  • If you’re after fame and fortune, choose acting rather than dealing drugs (it’s a lot safer).
  • No matter the hair style, grey hairs happen!

less grumpy people

The Stain of Complaining

The other evening, a very good friend and I were sitting around the living room, listening to music and talking about our life experiences. We were connecting deeply, and as the night went on, we both fell asleep on the couch. I was so amazingly content — beautiful music playing, cozy living room, lovely company and wonderful conversation. I felt myself rising to a very high vibration — love and appreciation — and I stayed there for a long time, basking, feeling warm, and connecting to my intuition…

My friend was very comfortable on the couch, I could tell. I was too, but suddenly, I felt like my back was cold — it wasn’t covered by any blanket and there must have been a slight draft from somewhere. From my place of pure, clear appreciation, came the stain of complaining. It was positively palpable — I could taste it in the air. It was like those cheesy stain remover info-mercials where they add deep blue and red dye to a clear container of water — the dye churns. My complaining was colouring my mood and I could feel it as clearly as if I was standing outside in the rain. It churned.

I adjusted my position to get warmer and more comfortable, but the mood did not lift immediately. I laid there, thinking about the startling effect my complaining was having on my body. My happy, glowing feeling was gone. I was just back on the couch, mostly comfortable. I felt like I was in my body again — I had been flying so high, I had been somewhat unaware of my physicality for a while. I felt very concrete, but not grounded. It’s difficult to explain.

The effect on my mind was just as obvious. The lighthearted, clear feeling I had been basking in was gone. I was cloudy, confused, even anxious… all from one little complaint. I had a hard time shaking that feeling of complaining, and I even, very briefly, started judging my friend for being comfortable when I was not. Thankfully, since I am in the habit of being aware of my thoughts, I nipped that in the bud — what a ridiculous thing to be jealous of! But that is what complaining does to you — it makes you jealous, cloudy, confused and frustrated, and since I had been feeling so great before, the contrast of those icky feelings was striking.

Of my body, mind and spirit, my spirit was affected the least. Since I was so aware, I didn’t let the complaining go on too long. I let the feeling pass through me, and resettled into a happier state. I keep coming back to the analogy of a cork on water — you have to work quite hard to keep it down. We are the same — when we stop judging ourselves harshly, putting ourselves down or thinking thoughts of lack, we immediately rise up and start to float again. You and I have an invincible spirit, and the very simple, quick act of breathing and coming back to the moment, feeling the goodness of this moment, lets us rise again.