It All Starts With Good Health Intentions
It’s been an angst filled time in my life – compounded losses have abounded.
I take stock:
I’ve gained weight (I’m not one of those people who lose weight when stressed – I turn to wine and sugar to relieve my anxiety).
My jeans are tight.
My Sciatica is back in full force. (no pun intended)
Leg and toe cramps visit me nightly, as soon as I curl up in bed.
And heartburn now accompanies my heartache over losing my mom and cousin.
What to do?
Well, I’m heading back to Weight Watchers so that I can once more shed enough pounds to COMFORTABLY zip up my skinny jeans – without passing out from an inability to take a deep breath.
I’m going to be actually weighing my food instead of shoveling it into my mouth by the handfuls. And then rationalizing the portion size.
I’m scheduling physical therapy for the radiating pain in my legs.
And I’ve recruited my younger cousin, Jill, to be my head cheerleader in coaxing me back to good overall health. She solved all her health problems through diligence, research, trial and error and self-discipline. All the things I lack. That’s why I’ve recruited her. Maybe I can get some of it simply through association with her.
Stay tuned for more specifics in a follow-up newsletter.
Meanwhile, I’m basking in the thought of how healthy I will be and how wonderfully constructive all my intentions are. I guess you could label this “My Good Health Intentions Stage.”
Oops, Can’t Forget “Home Renovation Stage”
And then I read in the April 20th edition of the Wall Street Journal an articleabout finding nirvana at HOME. I start itching to expand my list of personal intentions beyond just getting healthier. And home improvement is always tops on my list for buoying up my spirits
Remodeling your space to reduce stress? Right up my alley. Redesigning to increase mindfulness? Love it. Meditation spaces to expand my wellness regimen? Can’t wait. (The fact that at present I have NO wellness regimen does not deter me in the slightest.)
I’ve got a good start: One hundred fifty-year-old Grand Oaks in my yard to gaze at. I admit I’m lacking twenty acres of undisturbed land to romp in and an ocean view to elicit rapture – all of which I’m led to believe will increase serenity. But, hey, I also have an undisturbed six-foot tall concrete wall to gaze at. Okay, so its purpose is to screen out the noise of the relentlessly busy two-lane highway hugging the perimeter of my house. But it IS gaze-able. Ugly, but slightly gaze-worthy. Maybe I could employ my artist friend, Michelle, to paint a beachy-like mural across its expanse.
And I do have interior high ceilings and big windows – both of which are supposed to induce a state of restfulness – according to the nirvana article.
But I am sorely lacking a one-acre medicinal garden of edible shrubs – also recommended for inducing calm. However, I do have a new basil plant in a clay pot on my porch off the family room. It gets regularly replaced every three weeks – right after I kill the former one. And I do see greenery from many of my windows – which is supposed to “impact your mind and well-being.” Except, it’s the wrong windows with the greenery: my commode, my guest bathroom, my laundry room and my butler’s pantry. Unfortunately, my kitchen, family room and bedroom windows face a washed-out looking, decaying wood fence.
And I have to admit that my house also lacks a Japanese style tearoom, a meditation altar and yoga studio. But, no kidding, I do have a covered outdoor gazebo. It serves no purpose whatsoever, except as a receptacle of discarded, chipped, dirty clay pots. My friend, a self-declared expert Fung Shui practitioner, boldly and emphatically informed me – in a none too pleasant tone of voice – “that is where all your personal chi energy is escaping to, thus making you listless and apathetic.”
Geez.
I’m undeterred. I’m determined that my health and wellness-seeking endeavors will be infused with a new burst of creativity and inventiveness once I recycle all those old clay pots. And my presently unused and neglected outdoor space will now be dedicated solely to meditating and the practice of Yoga. No more donut dunking and romance novel reading in my old and comfy wicker chair on the gazebo. Nope. The gazebo will be stripped bare. It will be purposefully, aesthetically spartan. No decadence will dare seep into its space.
Execution is a Whole Other Matter.
But first I have to build a walled trellis and coax it into a lush mass of greenery. I’m not sure what that entails. Then I have to give up Coffee Mate, caffeine, sugar, dairy, and all carbs. I have to train myself to meditate for more than fifteen seconds. Oh, yes, and build a reflecting pool. Screen in the gazebo and install some dimmer switches, somehow soften the floor, add a few potted palm trees, and multiple cushions. And most importantly, introduce a state of quietude. That means scheduling my de-stressing (not distressing) time when automobile traffic is light and my backyard neighbors aren’t entertaining, swimming in their pool, or letting out their dog – who howls and barks incessantly. Yep: my own slice of paradise – available weekday mornings between 2am and 4am.
I can’t wait to move from intention to active execution.
Oh yes, and one more thing: I’m starting tomorrow.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris