6:45pm Sundown in 19 minutes, the start of the Sabbath. Two weeks since I ended my fast. Two weeks of exploring new terrain. I have been going very slowly with respect to figuring out how to eat. Mostly, I've kept a pot of kitchari handy. The only non-plant based food I've eaten is eggs, and not very many of them.
Three things stand out for me.
Number 1. I have missed writing this blog — missed reflecting on the days as they passed. Through this blog, a web of support formed around me — something that made the whole endeavor possible, something I would wish we all could have all the time. Yesterday a dear friend and teacher who had been following the blog, wrote me to say she missed it and suggested I write an entry to catch folks up. She presumed that if she missed it, others might too; others might want to know what has been happening for me in these two weeks. I'd been missing it too but felt that I couldn't yet deliver the postscript I'd promised on Day 40. I'd imagined it would be a deeply thought out essay where I would have thoroughly analyzed everything that had happened along the way and I would be able to say, unequivocally, the ways in which I was transformed by the experience. That notion, conceived within the safety and spaciousness of the fast, was swallowed up by a maelstrom of busyness that descended as soon as I stepped outside of its comfortable confines. Which leads me to...
Number 2. The 40 day fast which I had envisioned for myself was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. It was a framework which determined everything else about my life: where I went, who I engaged with, how I spent my time and money, what I thought about. I was living a daily spiritual practice and reaping its rewards in the form of love, companionship, tangible support, deepened intuitive abilities, greatly improved self-esteem. I slept better, smiled more, knew what needed to happen next. I became proficient in the kitchen in ways I'd never been nor ever cared to be. I was interested in the qualities of the foods that went into the kitchari. I blessed each bowl I ate, I gave away as much of each pot as I myself consumed. People felt immediately nourished by it, as did I. When the 40 days ended I was shocked at how all that changed. Not once in 40 days did I burn the bottom of the pot. Not even one time — and that's saying something. Once the 40 days were over, all of a sudden I kept forgetting I was cooking until I smelled it catching! Or I'd forget some key ingredient, which I hadn't done before. Even though I'd said I'd go another ten days, it just didn't carry the same fire, the same juice, the same sanctity that the 4o days did. AND, I began to feel depleted. The fear that I was becoming deficient in some key nutrient returned. I knew that down this road is the path to the dreaded American Diet which has been so wrong for me. What I have been grappling with is how to hang on to a key learning that has come from these 40 days. The Learning: I have reached a stage in my life where I am the expert when it comes to what I need to sustain me. The key is to listen with great care; to call on Spirit and then listen as the answers form inside me. This is a radical act, entirely counter culture. How do I stand firm in this truth without the safety net of the fast? What is it about the 40 days that allowed me to be the person I want to be all the time. How can I re-create that outside the fast? And last, but hardly least...
Number 3. It's as if I've shed the fat suit I was shlepping around for the last many years. In 40 days, I dropped nearly 25 pounds. To be sure, I'm no slip of a thing, but I feel so much better, so much more like myself. This is pure bonus, though it's certainly welcome and it's a very visible effect of the fast. Any nutritionist would wag a finger at how quickly I've lost this weight. But, I felt better than I had in a very long time all the way through. The depletion came after the 40 days ended and I was in a quandary about what and how to eat. I let myself get dehydrated, I didn't eat enough, I fasted on Yom Kippur, was an officiant at not one but TWO fire rituals in this period. In fact, yesterday was the first day I started feeling better. I've been taking care to hydrate more, and I've been feeling more confidant around food. I'm not so worried any more that I will suddenly, accidentally, eat a bag of chips.
I am still captivated by what I've learned about my sacred activism and how it's through the care and feeding of this body that I'm coming to know the truth of what started me on this practice in the first place: when I was preparing to do a Ceremony to Heal the Waters of the Gulf of Mexico, I began to think about how I have treated my body with the same disregard as humanity treats the EarthSeaMother. This awareness grew into a commitment to pay more than just lip service to my commitment to Tikkun Olam. I think of Bernice Johnson Reagon, in an interview with Bill Moyers explaining the beauty and power of Black Gospel music in how personal it is. She uses as an example: "This little light of mine I'm gonna let it shine...."
I take a stand for the healing of the planet through the healing of my body.
YES! Let it begin with me!
Friday, October 1, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — DAY 40!!!!
6:52pm Wow! I did it. Sunset in 8 minutes from now. 40 days of kitchari and I've lived to tell about it. I will fast for Yom Kippur, beginning tonight at sunset, as I'd planned from Day 1. My counting error which made today be the last day, rather than tomorrow, feels like the right thing now – though I will always regret having not directly linked the Ramadan fast to the Yom Kippur fast. Oh well. Next year in Jerusalem. Perhaps, if the two fasts fall on the calendar in the right way, I'll try again. I've had my last bowl of kitchari of this 40 day practice and am moving into something new which will unfold.
Tonight I must make my final preparations for the Fall Equinox/Yom Kippur Forgiveness Ritual taking place tomorrow. In the coming days and weeks, I'm looking forward to writing about the extraordinary journey I've been on, the learnings, the surprises, the openings, the letting go's. During that time, more will emerge. I will post that exploration as a postscript. For now, 40 days and 40 nights — The Blog, has come to a close.
Thank you, my dear friends, those who have joined me along the way in eating kitchari, those who have witnessed silently, and those who have cheered me on. I have been held in a powerful field of love and support that I will carry with me always.
Mitakuye Oyasin, All My Relations, Tikkun Olam!
Tonight I must make my final preparations for the Fall Equinox/Yom Kippur Forgiveness Ritual taking place tomorrow. In the coming days and weeks, I'm looking forward to writing about the extraordinary journey I've been on, the learnings, the surprises, the openings, the letting go's. During that time, more will emerge. I will post that exploration as a postscript. For now, 40 days and 40 nights — The Blog, has come to a close.
Thank you, my dear friends, those who have joined me along the way in eating kitchari, those who have witnessed silently, and those who have cheered me on. I have been held in a powerful field of love and support that I will carry with me always.
Mitakuye Oyasin, All My Relations, Tikkun Olam!
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 38
7:47am Including today, three more days. As of today, I've decided to have a meal of curried vegetables with lamb to break my fast on Yom Kippur and then, starting Sunday, begin 10 more days eating kitchari. These 10 days are to give me time to live outside the safe haven of the 40 days and take a deep look at everything I've learned, time to be with what's changed in me without overwhelming my system — and by that I mean my whole system.
A question that I need to answer for myself: How do I retain the simplicity that has entered my life as a result of how much attention I've had to put on the act of keeping myself fed? Formulating that question as I write this, at least at the level I'm able to look at the issue in this moment, helps. A lot. The fast has brought great simplicity to my life. My days have systems in place that support the primacy and sanctity of the fast. Shouldn't it be possible to bring this intentionality into everyday life? What IS everyday life anyway? Maybe that's the larger question. What do I mean by "everyday life?!" I think what it's meant to me has been the stuff that's forgettable, that's unimportant, that's boring, hard, or doesn't make for a good story when you talk about it to your friends. Today, it doesn't feel right to relegate any part of life to the category of forgettable. These days, I find everything, at the very least, interesting. Usually it's more than that. What was once hard is now an adventure. What was once tedious is now an opportunity to practice a kind of discipline. I think a lot about The Karate Kid these days with Mr. Miyage saying "Wax on, wax off." That's a practice, one that builds patience, strength, skill and gets you a nice shiny car.
There's a practice that I sometimes do called "Soul Collage" in which you allow the alchemical process of selecting images and putting them together in a collage on a 5x7 piece of cardboard to work it's magic. As we move toward the Fall Equinox, I'm remembering that back at the Winter Solstice, I got together with my spirit sister Grace and did some Soul Collage. The card I ended up making I titled "Everyday Practice." It speaks to me about the power of everyday practice — something I'd aspired to but never really achieved. An everyday altar practice, prayer practice, self-care practice. All these energies right there in this card that I've had in my field of vision on and off since then. I've had it out for the entire period of the fast. Part of the Soul Collage process is to have the person sitting opposite you hold the card so you can see it from a bit of a distance. And then you speak sentences that begin with the words: I am the one who....
I am the one who now has an Everyday Practice — a practice that acknowledges the Oneness of all things, where washing the celentro is as sacred an act as standing at my altar offering prayers of healing for all beings and for the planet. I am the one who lives an intentional life and for whom the path of consciousness is unfolding. I offer the fruits of my practice to the healing of the planet. Mitakuye Oyasin, All My Relations, Tikkun Olam
A question that I need to answer for myself: How do I retain the simplicity that has entered my life as a result of how much attention I've had to put on the act of keeping myself fed? Formulating that question as I write this, at least at the level I'm able to look at the issue in this moment, helps. A lot. The fast has brought great simplicity to my life. My days have systems in place that support the primacy and sanctity of the fast. Shouldn't it be possible to bring this intentionality into everyday life? What IS everyday life anyway? Maybe that's the larger question. What do I mean by "everyday life?!" I think what it's meant to me has been the stuff that's forgettable, that's unimportant, that's boring, hard, or doesn't make for a good story when you talk about it to your friends. Today, it doesn't feel right to relegate any part of life to the category of forgettable. These days, I find everything, at the very least, interesting. Usually it's more than that. What was once hard is now an adventure. What was once tedious is now an opportunity to practice a kind of discipline. I think a lot about The Karate Kid these days with Mr. Miyage saying "Wax on, wax off." That's a practice, one that builds patience, strength, skill and gets you a nice shiny car.
There's a practice that I sometimes do called "Soul Collage" in which you allow the alchemical process of selecting images and putting them together in a collage on a 5x7 piece of cardboard to work it's magic. As we move toward the Fall Equinox, I'm remembering that back at the Winter Solstice, I got together with my spirit sister Grace and did some Soul Collage. The card I ended up making I titled "Everyday Practice." It speaks to me about the power of everyday practice — something I'd aspired to but never really achieved. An everyday altar practice, prayer practice, self-care practice. All these energies right there in this card that I've had in my field of vision on and off since then. I've had it out for the entire period of the fast. Part of the Soul Collage process is to have the person sitting opposite you hold the card so you can see it from a bit of a distance. And then you speak sentences that begin with the words: I am the one who....
I am the one who now has an Everyday Practice — a practice that acknowledges the Oneness of all things, where washing the celentro is as sacred an act as standing at my altar offering prayers of healing for all beings and for the planet. I am the one who lives an intentional life and for whom the path of consciousness is unfolding. I offer the fruits of my practice to the healing of the planet. Mitakuye Oyasin, All My Relations, Tikkun Olam
Saturday, September 11, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 34
7:44pm As importantly as today being Day 34 of my kitchari* fast is that it's September 11th. Endings and beginnings. On this day, commemorating a terror act that slaughtered thousands, brought down an icon of corporate America, and continues — 9 years later — to terrorize us, my beloved spiritual home at One Spirit Interfaith Seminary, opened its doors in a brand new, beautifully appointed space, to a brand new crop of first year students. I, about to begin my second year — my ordination year — was privileged to be a greeter, to welcome the newcomers into a process that is nothing short miraculous. I certainly would not have embarked on a 40 day practice of any kind if not for One Spirit.
Today is also the day my mother stopped knowing who I am. Because of the fast, because of this blog, because it's September 11, 2010, I will forever know when that day came.
My mother and I had spent the day together, from noon on, because her weekend aide had to fly to Jamaica due to a death in the family. I split the day with my daughter so that I could get down to One Spirit in the morning. Driving down from a brief visit to the country house where she'd spent 36 summers with my father — dead now these past 5 and a half years, the house she'd given to me several years ago, she turned and asked, looking around at the back seat, "Where's my husband." It was so sudden. I was caught off-guard. I said, foolishly, "Are you talking about my father?" She was silent for a time and the said, "Are you my child?" We'd been talking the whole way down about things that referenced the family, there was no question that we were connected in the way that I was accustomed. She'd dozed off and it was after she woke up that things started to get wonky. I didn't realize at first, when she'd awakened, that she really didn't know in whose car she was and who I was. She complemented my driving, which she has done before. My father had been a terrible driver. She went into great detail about all the ways my driving was good. They were all the ways my father's driving was appallingly bad. I said something to that effect. And that's when she all of a sudden switched and asked where her husband was. She absolutely knew she had a daughter named Riva, but she didn't believe that I was her. She was completely baffled at how much I knew about her family. I was completely baffled that I was trying to reach her in this way, given that I knew this day was coming. I reminded her about her grandchildren, who she completely remembered. I said that I was their mother. She said "Do they know that." I was flummoxed by that response. Once the car was parked and we got upstairs, I began to fully lose my emotional equilibrium. She seemed to understand that there was something wrong — she seemed to get that I knew too much to not be Riva. She tried deciding to accept it, but I could absolutely feel that she was looking at a perfect stranger. As often as I'd heard about this happening with Alzheimers, it was devastating. I txted my beloved who reminded me to call in Spirit Help and promised to do so on my behalf. I felt better almost immediately and I began to feel into the energy of the situation. I became unafraid, unreactive and introduced myself as Riva, the person taking care of her this evening. I was aware that she had a daughter named Riva and wasn't that a coincidence. She asked what had caused me to know that she'd even need care today, and I responded that I'm the person who sees to her getting the care she needs. She was interested to know that. I could feel the energy unjamming, I kept it going, the energy flow. Back and forth, sending her expansion, acceptance, building a field of trust. Before too long, I could feel her shift back into seeing me as her daughter. Until the next time — which could be tomorrow, when I will again be sending the afternoon with her. The day will come when I won't be able to retrieve her.
What I know is that this access to the kind of energy work I did today is something else I have a much greater conscious awareness of, faith in, and ability to work with as a result of the increasingly clear field engendered by the kitchari fast.
Tomorrow's another day. Please send prayers for her, for me.
______________
*For those of you who are sensitive to issues of consistency of usage and spelling, I want to acknowledge that I have not landed anywhere on how I think kitchari (kitcheree) should be spelled. This is the case because I've been told on good authority that kitchari, with the accent on the second syllable is absolutely the right way to spell and say it (this from 1. my beloved, who spent several years following a macrobiotic diet and 2. a Guyanese friend) and I have been told on equally good authority that kitcheree (accent on the first syllable and a decided roll of the tongue on the "r" is the absolutely correct way to spell and say it (this from a friend married to an Indian man). I trust and love all three sources and so sometimes it comes out one way, sometimes another.
Today is also the day my mother stopped knowing who I am. Because of the fast, because of this blog, because it's September 11, 2010, I will forever know when that day came.
My mother and I had spent the day together, from noon on, because her weekend aide had to fly to Jamaica due to a death in the family. I split the day with my daughter so that I could get down to One Spirit in the morning. Driving down from a brief visit to the country house where she'd spent 36 summers with my father — dead now these past 5 and a half years, the house she'd given to me several years ago, she turned and asked, looking around at the back seat, "Where's my husband." It was so sudden. I was caught off-guard. I said, foolishly, "Are you talking about my father?" She was silent for a time and the said, "Are you my child?" We'd been talking the whole way down about things that referenced the family, there was no question that we were connected in the way that I was accustomed. She'd dozed off and it was after she woke up that things started to get wonky. I didn't realize at first, when she'd awakened, that she really didn't know in whose car she was and who I was. She complemented my driving, which she has done before. My father had been a terrible driver. She went into great detail about all the ways my driving was good. They were all the ways my father's driving was appallingly bad. I said something to that effect. And that's when she all of a sudden switched and asked where her husband was. She absolutely knew she had a daughter named Riva, but she didn't believe that I was her. She was completely baffled at how much I knew about her family. I was completely baffled that I was trying to reach her in this way, given that I knew this day was coming. I reminded her about her grandchildren, who she completely remembered. I said that I was their mother. She said "Do they know that." I was flummoxed by that response. Once the car was parked and we got upstairs, I began to fully lose my emotional equilibrium. She seemed to understand that there was something wrong — she seemed to get that I knew too much to not be Riva. She tried deciding to accept it, but I could absolutely feel that she was looking at a perfect stranger. As often as I'd heard about this happening with Alzheimers, it was devastating. I txted my beloved who reminded me to call in Spirit Help and promised to do so on my behalf. I felt better almost immediately and I began to feel into the energy of the situation. I became unafraid, unreactive and introduced myself as Riva, the person taking care of her this evening. I was aware that she had a daughter named Riva and wasn't that a coincidence. She asked what had caused me to know that she'd even need care today, and I responded that I'm the person who sees to her getting the care she needs. She was interested to know that. I could feel the energy unjamming, I kept it going, the energy flow. Back and forth, sending her expansion, acceptance, building a field of trust. Before too long, I could feel her shift back into seeing me as her daughter. Until the next time — which could be tomorrow, when I will again be sending the afternoon with her. The day will come when I won't be able to retrieve her.
What I know is that this access to the kind of energy work I did today is something else I have a much greater conscious awareness of, faith in, and ability to work with as a result of the increasingly clear field engendered by the kitchari fast.
Tomorrow's another day. Please send prayers for her, for me.
______________
*For those of you who are sensitive to issues of consistency of usage and spelling, I want to acknowledge that I have not landed anywhere on how I think kitchari (kitcheree) should be spelled. This is the case because I've been told on good authority that kitchari, with the accent on the second syllable is absolutely the right way to spell and say it (this from 1. my beloved, who spent several years following a macrobiotic diet and 2. a Guyanese friend) and I have been told on equally good authority that kitcheree (accent on the first syllable and a decided roll of the tongue on the "r" is the absolutely correct way to spell and say it (this from a friend married to an Indian man). I trust and love all three sources and so sometimes it comes out one way, sometimes another.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 32
3:59pm What a day. "Emotional rollar-coaster" doesn't actually cover it. I mean I'm fine, but as I move through the day I'm hit with wave upon wave of intense emotion. Today is Rosh HaShanah. I am acutely aware that today is a High Holy Day, acutely aware of how little personal experience I have of celebrating it from a spiritual perspective (as opposed to a culinary one), and how my spiritual community, rich and deep as it is, caring and careful to wish me a Happy New Year, has me once again in grief over my disaffection from organized religious practice, including and perhaps especially the religion of my ancestors. I had felt that so much had gotten healed vis a vis my relationship to my Judaism during the first year of my seminary training. But in the space and clarity of this fast, so much is coming up yet to be healed. Today, after hearing the story of a dear friend and spirit sister's awakening to her own internalized race hatred, I wonder if I've got that going on myself — if at the root of this disaffection, perhaps even antipathy, is a long-buried case of antisemetism. That would be a real kick in the head! I, who have been quite an in-your-face secular Jew, eager to use a yiddish bon mot whenever possible, proud to have a fairly good working knowledge of Yiddish and a very nearly perfect Eastern European accent... this is something to contemplate. It makes it easy to remain disaffected with the political situation in Israel which has me at odds with family that lives there. Anyway, I find this and other strong, hard, uncomfortable feelings coming up today, as I move through day 32.
It struck me that with 8 days left, I am now able to have wave on wave of difficult feelings without using food to medicate them way. I've developed a new way of being with feelings and, as I once again contemplate the approaching end of this 40 day container, I'm thinking of keeping it going. We'll see what unfolds.
It struck me that with 8 days left, I am now able to have wave on wave of difficult feelings without using food to medicate them way. I've developed a new way of being with feelings and, as I once again contemplate the approaching end of this 40 day container, I'm thinking of keeping it going. We'll see what unfolds.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 30
8:47pm I've never been very good with numbers, with counting, with arithmetic. Geometry was the only mathematical thing that I excelled at and I'm sure it's because it was about pictures. What calls this to mind? Well, for the past several days I've had the awful feeling that I'd counted wrong and Yom Kippur, the putative 40th day of my kitchari fast was going to turn out to either be day 39 or day 41. I didn't have the heart to double check until today. And wouldn't you know it, I started my fast a day early. Yom Kippur is indeed the 41st day. If it weren't such a classic Riva move, I'd be really upset with myself. I'm trying to find the deeper meaning to it than that I simply messed up. What comes to mind is one of the first talmudic laws I learned from my brand new father-in-law, back in 1969. The law was "eyn marbim simkhe b'simkhe" which means: don't mix one holiday with another. So, if you get together for someone's birthday, and another person at the gathering happens to have a birthday the very next day, you can't celebrate both at the same gathering. Similarly, if you happen to be at the cemetery for a funeral, it's wrong to go visit the graves of others. I always found this an interesting interpretation of "simkhe" (holiday), but Jewish humor is always on the darker side. Anyway, perhaps my messing up has to do with it being wrong to celebrate the end of my fast on the most sacred day of the Jewish calendar. Or maybe it's just that I'm not so good at counting. Doing a practice that connected Ramadan and Yom Kippur... I'm unwilling to let that go. I will rest in the righteousness of my intention and notice how through the millenia, getting Ishmael and Isaac to sit at the same table has been something of a challenge. Oh how I wish I'd begun on August 10th!! Perhaps the deeper meaning will emerge as whatever transformation(s) emerge after the 40 days are over. Perhaps something occurs to you who are reading this.
I'd love to stop here for today, but something else happened that I want to record. Today, I made a conscious decision to wait until tonight to cook up the next batch of kitchari. This meant that I'd be without a "stash" for several hours. I had to be out for a while today. During that time, I got to a place of extreme hunger about which I could do nothing until I got home. I had just about a thimbleful of kitchari left at home. I deliberately took care of all the things on my to do list, drinking lots of water to try to manage the stomach hunger, grateful that "taking the edge off" with some snacky thing was not an option, successfully staying present to the hunger, and standing in solidarity with the millions (billions?) of people so hungry for so long they don't even have hunger pangs. I finally got home, had the thimbleful, did some work, and then made the new batch — slowly, carefully. It's now in it's final 20 minutes or so of cooking. May I remember this time when I'm out and about and notice myself getting hungry. As I noted early on in these posts — I have been much afraid of hunger. How could this NOT be ancestral?
Ok. NOW I'm done for today. Blessings on you, my dear friends. May we all know sufficiency!
I'd love to stop here for today, but something else happened that I want to record. Today, I made a conscious decision to wait until tonight to cook up the next batch of kitchari. This meant that I'd be without a "stash" for several hours. I had to be out for a while today. During that time, I got to a place of extreme hunger about which I could do nothing until I got home. I had just about a thimbleful of kitchari left at home. I deliberately took care of all the things on my to do list, drinking lots of water to try to manage the stomach hunger, grateful that "taking the edge off" with some snacky thing was not an option, successfully staying present to the hunger, and standing in solidarity with the millions (billions?) of people so hungry for so long they don't even have hunger pangs. I finally got home, had the thimbleful, did some work, and then made the new batch — slowly, carefully. It's now in it's final 20 minutes or so of cooking. May I remember this time when I'm out and about and notice myself getting hungry. As I noted early on in these posts — I have been much afraid of hunger. How could this NOT be ancestral?
Ok. NOW I'm done for today. Blessings on you, my dear friends. May we all know sufficiency!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 28
10:02am I have been up since early, in a bit of a state over this being Day 28. Only 12 days left. I put up a fresh batch of kitchari, noticing how much I have come to love the preparation, the decisions I make from one batch to the next — a little more of this, less of that, things chopped coarser of finer, wondering the difference it will make to the finished food. And in the background of that, a hint of something that feels remarkably like the anticipated grief over this extraordinary time of having stepped outside my regular routines coming to an end. I'm pretty sure I've touched on this in earlier blog posts, but it's coming up as more than a thought. It's here as a feeling with texture and tone and with physical manifestations: tears and an ache in my solar plexus and chest — the kind that comes with sadness.
And so, how to negotiate this terrain. First and foremost, be aware. Stay conscious. Don't get swept away. This is what's here today. Day 28. If these were years, this would be the start of my 1st Saturn Return, a time of heaviness, constriction and potential suffering (what many young people think of as "the specter of turning 30). For the moment, today, I am carrying these very energies. What I know also is that it's only Day 28. It would be an unfortunate case of arrogance to think I have a clue as to how I will feel on Day 40 — much less on Day 40 + 1! I don't believe the Transformation is for me to know today — what happens when I return from the desert, when I get to Canaan, when the rain stops. Perhaps my challenge for these last 12 days is to stay out of anticipation, out of second-guessing, out of my addiction to the need to know.
There is a process I learned from my former teacher which she called The "get out of your own way" process. It addresses issues of "heart addictions:" addiction to intensity; addiction to the need to know; addiction to perfection; and fixation on what's not working. Each addiction correlates to a chamber of the heart, which correlates to the medicine wheel and the four directions. It's a gorgeous practice that I think it's called for at this time. Once again, much gratitude to my teacher and to all I've learned from her.
Into the day, which will include journeying to prepare for several rituals coming up later this month — among them, the Forgiveness Ritual on Yom Kippur, the last day of my fast. It will also include several bowls of delicious, nutritious, healing, hearty kitchari.
And so, how to negotiate this terrain. First and foremost, be aware. Stay conscious. Don't get swept away. This is what's here today. Day 28. If these were years, this would be the start of my 1st Saturn Return, a time of heaviness, constriction and potential suffering (what many young people think of as "the specter of turning 30). For the moment, today, I am carrying these very energies. What I know also is that it's only Day 28. It would be an unfortunate case of arrogance to think I have a clue as to how I will feel on Day 40 — much less on Day 40 + 1! I don't believe the Transformation is for me to know today — what happens when I return from the desert, when I get to Canaan, when the rain stops. Perhaps my challenge for these last 12 days is to stay out of anticipation, out of second-guessing, out of my addiction to the need to know.
There is a process I learned from my former teacher which she called The "get out of your own way" process. It addresses issues of "heart addictions:" addiction to intensity; addiction to the need to know; addiction to perfection; and fixation on what's not working. Each addiction correlates to a chamber of the heart, which correlates to the medicine wheel and the four directions. It's a gorgeous practice that I think it's called for at this time. Once again, much gratitude to my teacher and to all I've learned from her.
Into the day, which will include journeying to prepare for several rituals coming up later this month — among them, the Forgiveness Ritual on Yom Kippur, the last day of my fast. It will also include several bowls of delicious, nutritious, healing, hearty kitchari.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 25
2:28pm Here it is! September. What a wild ride through the summer months. Not that it's over — the temp is somewhere near 90 and the humidity... oy. It's definitely impacting my mood. I think. Something is impacting my mood. I know that one can't be living in the Expansion all the time. Look at the economy, for crissakes! What expands must contract (except perhaps for the Universe?). At least I've found this to be true for me and all the people I know. There are the big, fullhearted, life-is-great, (or at least the-challenges-of life-are-interesting) times and the constricted, shut down, life-sucks-and-who-needs-these-challenges-anyway times. Without going through all the blog posts, I don't believe that in the last 24 days, I've had a full-on, protracted, grouch attack, like the one I'm having today.
This morning at 7am, I made my usual getting-my-92-year-old-mother-with-Alzheimer's-oriented-to-the-day phonecall. As has been happening increasingly, she didn't pick up the phone. I called several more times as I finished getting dressed. She lives around the corner from me and when she doesn't answer the phone, I take a walk over to see what's what. Today, she'd finished her morning routine and decided that though it was before 7am and though her aide would not be arriving for another two hours, she should head out to the senior center for lunch. I no longer panic when she's not home. She still knows how to put together a snappy outfit. She still remembers her keys and to lock the door. She still remembers where the senior center is and I know she'll be sitting on the little white brick wall in front of the synagogue which houses it. She is, so far, lost in time, not in space. Each time I arrive at the center, she seems entirely mystifyed as to why she can't remember what 7am signifies with respect to the decisions she's making. We talk about her Alzheimer's. We talk about how she has always been a creature of habit and someone who always needed to know what the next thing on the agenda was. And going to the center is the next thing, because the 2.5 hours of down time in between getting dressed and leaving for lunch is not a "to do." It's the same talk each time. I remain calm, patient, deeply knowing she has no idea this is a conversation we have several times a week. I get her back upstairs, make sure she's hydrated and clear that the aide will be there in less than an hour. Today, the cleaning lady will be there, too. A big day!
With my mother installed in her recliner in her air-conditioned bedroom for a much-needed snooze, I return home where I find myself in a funk that has remained. The kitcheree elixir has not removed the tightness in my chest, the knot in my solar plexus. I can feel my face frowning. It would be easy to conclude from this post that my funk is due to this morning's unscheduled walk up to senior center. Or maybe it's the 3 month wait since the application for Medicaid was filed and the possibility of getting my mother the 24 hour care she needs can be explored. Or the fact that she's out of money and I'm about to be out of money — including my retirement fund which, like the rest of Americans in their 60s who don't plan to retire, is going to the care of their nonagenarian parents. These things pull me away from the expanded place I've been in, from the healing work I prefer to be engaged in on behalf of the planet. I can't fix the healthcare and social services system. I can't go head to head with the Corporatocracy. But I can pray for the healing of the Gulf, for the healing of the planet, for the healing of hate and greed — the greed that keeps the healthcare system broken.
And I can't fix the woundings that caused my mother to become the person she became and who is now stuck with the habits of a lifetime. I can be compassionate and patient and pray that she gets a ticket out before she loses all function and becomes a being that she expressly stated when she was in her 70s she never wanted to be.
7:29pm I'm feeling a little better. I've been asked to read in a poetry reading tomorrow evening and I was looking for what I wanted to read. I've reconnected with some Magic Spells I'd written in 2002-2003 and reading them completely turned my mood around. I came upon one I had no memory writing. It as completely on target for this moment. A friend from seminary called me today and asked if I'd join her in a prayer practice that we'd do for each other to call in prosperity. There had to be divine intervention involved in my coming upon this Spell. I offer it here for all.
A Spell to Transform Obstacles to
Abundance and Prosperity into Stepping Stones
I've lived my life expecting
there will never be enough —
It makes achieving Joy and Bliss
entirely too tough.
The second-guessing, doubt and fear,
Ignoring things I hold most dear,
Rejecting Angels who appear —
All stand as Obstacles to Wealth,
Abundant Living, Vibrant Health.
Prosperity is out of reach,
No time for Standing on a Beach with
Trousers Rolled and Perfect Peach.
These obstacles brought from before
Have been as steps to this next door.
With burning sage and sandalwood
(And always for the greatest good)
We ask The Goddess if She could
Please change the things that bar our way
to Stepping Stones so that we may
Arrive at True Properity:
We ask with all humility
Transform these things—
So Make It Be!
Love, light, prosperity, and blessings to all who are with me on this journey.
This morning at 7am, I made my usual getting-my-92-year-old-mother-with-Alzheimer's-oriented-to-the-day phonecall. As has been happening increasingly, she didn't pick up the phone. I called several more times as I finished getting dressed. She lives around the corner from me and when she doesn't answer the phone, I take a walk over to see what's what. Today, she'd finished her morning routine and decided that though it was before 7am and though her aide would not be arriving for another two hours, she should head out to the senior center for lunch. I no longer panic when she's not home. She still knows how to put together a snappy outfit. She still remembers her keys and to lock the door. She still remembers where the senior center is and I know she'll be sitting on the little white brick wall in front of the synagogue which houses it. She is, so far, lost in time, not in space. Each time I arrive at the center, she seems entirely mystifyed as to why she can't remember what 7am signifies with respect to the decisions she's making. We talk about her Alzheimer's. We talk about how she has always been a creature of habit and someone who always needed to know what the next thing on the agenda was. And going to the center is the next thing, because the 2.5 hours of down time in between getting dressed and leaving for lunch is not a "to do." It's the same talk each time. I remain calm, patient, deeply knowing she has no idea this is a conversation we have several times a week. I get her back upstairs, make sure she's hydrated and clear that the aide will be there in less than an hour. Today, the cleaning lady will be there, too. A big day!
With my mother installed in her recliner in her air-conditioned bedroom for a much-needed snooze, I return home where I find myself in a funk that has remained. The kitcheree elixir has not removed the tightness in my chest, the knot in my solar plexus. I can feel my face frowning. It would be easy to conclude from this post that my funk is due to this morning's unscheduled walk up to senior center. Or maybe it's the 3 month wait since the application for Medicaid was filed and the possibility of getting my mother the 24 hour care she needs can be explored. Or the fact that she's out of money and I'm about to be out of money — including my retirement fund which, like the rest of Americans in their 60s who don't plan to retire, is going to the care of their nonagenarian parents. These things pull me away from the expanded place I've been in, from the healing work I prefer to be engaged in on behalf of the planet. I can't fix the healthcare and social services system. I can't go head to head with the Corporatocracy. But I can pray for the healing of the Gulf, for the healing of the planet, for the healing of hate and greed — the greed that keeps the healthcare system broken.
And I can't fix the woundings that caused my mother to become the person she became and who is now stuck with the habits of a lifetime. I can be compassionate and patient and pray that she gets a ticket out before she loses all function and becomes a being that she expressly stated when she was in her 70s she never wanted to be.
7:29pm I'm feeling a little better. I've been asked to read in a poetry reading tomorrow evening and I was looking for what I wanted to read. I've reconnected with some Magic Spells I'd written in 2002-2003 and reading them completely turned my mood around. I came upon one I had no memory writing. It as completely on target for this moment. A friend from seminary called me today and asked if I'd join her in a prayer practice that we'd do for each other to call in prosperity. There had to be divine intervention involved in my coming upon this Spell. I offer it here for all.
A Spell to Transform Obstacles to
Abundance and Prosperity into Stepping Stones
I've lived my life expecting
there will never be enough —
It makes achieving Joy and Bliss
entirely too tough.
The second-guessing, doubt and fear,
Ignoring things I hold most dear,
Rejecting Angels who appear —
All stand as Obstacles to Wealth,
Abundant Living, Vibrant Health.
Prosperity is out of reach,
No time for Standing on a Beach with
Trousers Rolled and Perfect Peach.
These obstacles brought from before
Have been as steps to this next door.
With burning sage and sandalwood
(And always for the greatest good)
We ask The Goddess if She could
Please change the things that bar our way
to Stepping Stones so that we may
Arrive at True Properity:
We ask with all humility
Transform these things—
So Make It Be!
Love, light, prosperity, and blessings to all who are with me on this journey.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 23
9:19am The hot weather has returned. I realize with gratitude that I began this journey after the last heatwave ended, making the cooking much more manageable. What's happened in the interval is that eating only the kitcheree seems to have enabled me to tolerate the high temps better than I had been. We'll see if that remains true after several days of promised upper 90 degree days. Today I will likely have the opportunity to jump into a lake, which will be most welcome!
This morning I had the first inkling of a feeling that one more bowl of kitcheree would be the bowl too many! It was a little unnerving but I was pretty sure that if I actually waited until hunger hit, such thoughts would either leave me or become irrelevant. Both things happened. Once I got hungry, kitcheree looked mighty good to me. And the fact that there's nothing else I'm going to eat for the next 17 days removes it as a discussion item. When I had the thought that I couldn't possibly look at anther bowl of kitcheree, it's not that I was longing for something else. It may well have been that I just am not feeling so great today and eating anything at all was the issue. I don't have much experience with loss of appetite, so I wouldn't know it even if it introduced itself to me by name. But I'm interested to explore the parameters of this thing called "appetite:" an unanticipated stop along the way of this Camino I'm on.
The "not feeling so great today" started with waking up in the night with a headache that I associate with overeating the things that don't really work so well for me: chips, wheat, sugar — all the things I've been totally clear of for these 23 days. It remains a mystery what caused the headache.
This morning I had the first inkling of a feeling that one more bowl of kitcheree would be the bowl too many! It was a little unnerving but I was pretty sure that if I actually waited until hunger hit, such thoughts would either leave me or become irrelevant. Both things happened. Once I got hungry, kitcheree looked mighty good to me. And the fact that there's nothing else I'm going to eat for the next 17 days removes it as a discussion item. When I had the thought that I couldn't possibly look at anther bowl of kitcheree, it's not that I was longing for something else. It may well have been that I just am not feeling so great today and eating anything at all was the issue. I don't have much experience with loss of appetite, so I wouldn't know it even if it introduced itself to me by name. But I'm interested to explore the parameters of this thing called "appetite:" an unanticipated stop along the way of this Camino I'm on.
The "not feeling so great today" started with waking up in the night with a headache that I associate with overeating the things that don't really work so well for me: chips, wheat, sugar — all the things I've been totally clear of for these 23 days. It remains a mystery what caused the headache.
3:16pm And so the day has progressed and I'm feeling better. A new batch of kitcheree, still a little young to be as completely delicious as I now know it can be. But still nourishing and filling.
11:44pm A long busy day coming to a close, much to reflect on — this new awareness about appetite. I look forward to more information coming in about it, and to opening to the possibility that I might one day become someone who sometimes just doesn't have much appetite for food. I like the sound of that.
11:44pm A long busy day coming to a close, much to reflect on — this new awareness about appetite. I look forward to more information coming in about it, and to opening to the possibility that I might one day become someone who sometimes just doesn't have much appetite for food. I like the sound of that.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 21
5:33pm Incredibly, I'm past the halfway mark. I continue to feel increasing energy, easing out of joint pain, strengthening of muscles. And I continue to enjoy each and very spoonful of kitcheree. It is wonderful to have the support of a wide circle of people who are with me in many ways — some by participating in the fast in ways that work for them, all by holding space and by understanding that I can socialize with them anywhere I can bring a container of kitcheree.
With regard to my physical wellbeing, I'm not seeing what the benefit to me will be to stop eating the way I've been eating once the 40 days end on September 18 (maybe change up the mung beans and red lentils for aduki or pinto beans, but that's about it). I know that current nutritional wisdom supports the idea of a varied diet, but this really works for me. It's a framework that handles my food addiction — no choices to be made, the quality of my food assured. What WILL stop, perforce, is the circle of protection around these 40 days insofar as it is a spiritual journey, a Camino of sorts. Will the transformation as a result of this pilgrimage, dedicated to Tikkun Olam,* peace, and forgiveness, include making the choice on a daily basis to consume only those foods that support my highest self? I speak the following statement, morning and evening: "I release now and forever all patterns, behaviors, and beliefs, that prevent me from making healthy food choices." The voice that would have me believe that a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream would serve me, chuckles in the background. In my growing up house, we used to call ice cream and other such things "neshama food" (food for the soul). Funny to think of that now, when my concept of "soul" is so different than what it was in my childhood secular home. To think that ice cream fed the soul... perhaps that's why I kept at it, looking for the feeling I get, increasingly, from connection to Spirit.
--------------------------
* I was asked recently in an email, about the kitcheree fast by a friend of a friend who had mentioned to her what I was doing. I wrote the following and include it here because I feel it expresses better than I have elsewhere what this is that I'm doing. It seems my understanding deepens as I move through the 40 days: "...this fast I'm doing has at its roots the startling awareness that my efforts at self-care mirror humanity's egregious failings at caring for the Earth Mother. There is a complete disregard for Her body and Her being as The One Who Is Simply There — home to all beings and things, asking nothing in return for making this abundant home. Worse than disregard, humans ruthlessly and shamelessly commit unspeakable acts of violence against Her. So let it begin with me. My commitment to Tikkun Olam has brought me to this knowing: if I don't care for myself as I would have the Earth Mother cared for, my sacred activism on behalf of the planet is just an empty gesture. And how can I possibly take on the care of my own 92-year old human mother with mid-stage Alzheimer's if I myself am broken, much as she is, (and She, the Earth Mother, is)..."
With regard to my physical wellbeing, I'm not seeing what the benefit to me will be to stop eating the way I've been eating once the 40 days end on September 18 (maybe change up the mung beans and red lentils for aduki or pinto beans, but that's about it). I know that current nutritional wisdom supports the idea of a varied diet, but this really works for me. It's a framework that handles my food addiction — no choices to be made, the quality of my food assured. What WILL stop, perforce, is the circle of protection around these 40 days insofar as it is a spiritual journey, a Camino of sorts. Will the transformation as a result of this pilgrimage, dedicated to Tikkun Olam,* peace, and forgiveness, include making the choice on a daily basis to consume only those foods that support my highest self? I speak the following statement, morning and evening: "I release now and forever all patterns, behaviors, and beliefs, that prevent me from making healthy food choices." The voice that would have me believe that a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream would serve me, chuckles in the background. In my growing up house, we used to call ice cream and other such things "neshama food" (food for the soul). Funny to think of that now, when my concept of "soul" is so different than what it was in my childhood secular home. To think that ice cream fed the soul... perhaps that's why I kept at it, looking for the feeling I get, increasingly, from connection to Spirit.
--------------------------
* I was asked recently in an email, about the kitcheree fast by a friend of a friend who had mentioned to her what I was doing. I wrote the following and include it here because I feel it expresses better than I have elsewhere what this is that I'm doing. It seems my understanding deepens as I move through the 40 days: "...this fast I'm doing has at its roots the startling awareness that my efforts at self-care mirror humanity's egregious failings at caring for the Earth Mother. There is a complete disregard for Her body and Her being as The One Who Is Simply There — home to all beings and things, asking nothing in return for making this abundant home. Worse than disregard, humans ruthlessly and shamelessly commit unspeakable acts of violence against Her. So let it begin with me. My commitment to Tikkun Olam has brought me to this knowing: if I don't care for myself as I would have the Earth Mother cared for, my sacred activism on behalf of the planet is just an empty gesture. And how can I possibly take on the care of my own 92-year old human mother with mid-stage Alzheimer's if I myself am broken, much as she is, (and She, the Earth Mother, is)..."
Friday, August 27, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 19
1:25pm It's Friday again. I can hardly believe another week has ripped by. I'm hoping to get done with my work and declare it the weekend. This evening I've been invited to a potluck in honor of a friend's birthday. So I'll be bringing kitcheree, goat yogurt, and braggs. I wonder if folks will sample this dish that's been sustaining me so beautifully. I also wonder how I will feel to be around all the other food that will be there. Within the confines of the 40 days and 40 nights, I don't have any concern about eating anything other than what I'm bringing, but I'm remembering my discomfort at last week's potluck — as much with the drinking as with the food. To be sure, there'll be alcohol there tonight. I've thought of it as the grease that oils the social engine of these sorts of gatherings. I used to participate with gusto — was even, at times, the life of the party. But it took a terrible toll on my health and on my personal integrity, drawing me into doing and saying things I still regret. The good news about the regret is that it keeps me from drinking. But I have a hard time staying out of judgment when I'm in its midst. No good ever comes of using alcohol to get happy — at least not for me. What is right action here for me? I want to honor my friend's birthday, and I want to honor myself. We shall see.
8:46pm Home from the potluck. The people who tried the kitcheree all enjoyed it, which pleased me. Being around the alcohol was hard. Again, not because it called to me, but because I could track how the energy shifted as the evening progressed and the alcohol level increased. I noticed this thing that happens when folks start slipping away from real connection. When I call them back by engaging them from my own presence, the eyes dart, an almost perceivable question mark forms on the brow and then they slip away again. Is it rude to walk away when real connection is not what's actually wanted? I mean I get, sort of, that real connection is only just one of several possible ways of being connected — my preferred way.
What do I mean by "real?"
I mean even when the talk is about ideas and opinions, there's a connection through the heart. Alcohol and heart connection cannot co-exist, at least not for me.
But I did honor my friend on her birthday and that felt good.
On to Day 20!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 17
2:07pm It's been raining for 4 days. I try not to play favorites with the weather — there isn't anything intrinsically good or bad about weather, only how it conveniences or inconveniences us humans — but these gray, rainy days get me down.* My beloved, who rivals me in finding positive ways to view things. reminded me today that fire sign people (like my Sagittarian self) are not at their best with prolonged periods of rain. Made sense to me, but I consider my issues with rainy days to be pretty politically and spiritually incorrect!
Here's why:
Several years back, I was a student of a wonderfully and terribly charismatic teacher from whom I learned the basis of my current shamanic practice (deep gratitude to her, even as I keep my distance). I have been quite taken with her belief that we are all suffering from yin depletion. She encouraged us to look upon rainy times like these last 4 days as opportunities to replenish yin. Just as the night is made for yin replenishment, so are the gray, wet, rain times.
I have meditated a lot on this notion, realizing the inseparable nature of yin and yang but seeing how, in our culture, things that possess yin qualities (dark, cold, below, stillness, inwardness, inhibatory) are not as prized as things that are associated with yang (bright, warm, above, movement, outwardness, excitatory). I take this as a clear illustration of how far out of balance we have gotten; how committed the culture is to the devaluation of the feminine and to the myth of separation — in this case, the separation of the masculine from the feminine, and how part of my practice is to move toward balancing yin and yang energies in myself.
I have begun a gratitude practice over my food which I remember to do only half the time and when I'm with people who have no use for spiritual practice, I am still too shy to do at all. I'll get over it. This practice involves holding my hands over my bowl of kitcheri and feeling the energy of the food. I can feel each ingredient, see it's origins, give gratitude to the plants, to the Earth Mother, the goats whose milk has made the yogurt, and to the humans who farmed, packaged and got everything I need into the stores where I bought it, got it home and prepared it. I give gratitude to the energy of all the beings known and unknown to me that went into the creation of what I am about to consume, what is about to become part of me, to nourish me and to bring me into balance. I feel the balanced energy of the stew, I feel my energy body moving into alignment. Yin inseparable from yang in a beautiful dance that is my lifeforce where sometimes one leads and sometimes the other. It strikes me that one can't eat compulsively if one stops to give gratitude for the food one is consuming and connects to what has actually gone into its creation. May the end of my compulsive eating be a fruit of my 40 days and 40 nights!
--------------
*Today, at my altar, I prayed for the flood victims of Pakistan. As I re-read the words "...rainy days get me down" sitting in my dry apartment at my Macbook Pro with a nice 21 inch monitor, I say to myself, "Riva! Honey! Get a grip!"
Here's why:
Several years back, I was a student of a wonderfully and terribly charismatic teacher from whom I learned the basis of my current shamanic practice (deep gratitude to her, even as I keep my distance). I have been quite taken with her belief that we are all suffering from yin depletion. She encouraged us to look upon rainy times like these last 4 days as opportunities to replenish yin. Just as the night is made for yin replenishment, so are the gray, wet, rain times.
I have meditated a lot on this notion, realizing the inseparable nature of yin and yang but seeing how, in our culture, things that possess yin qualities (dark, cold, below, stillness, inwardness, inhibatory) are not as prized as things that are associated with yang (bright, warm, above, movement, outwardness, excitatory). I take this as a clear illustration of how far out of balance we have gotten; how committed the culture is to the devaluation of the feminine and to the myth of separation — in this case, the separation of the masculine from the feminine, and how part of my practice is to move toward balancing yin and yang energies in myself.
I have begun a gratitude practice over my food which I remember to do only half the time and when I'm with people who have no use for spiritual practice, I am still too shy to do at all. I'll get over it. This practice involves holding my hands over my bowl of kitcheri and feeling the energy of the food. I can feel each ingredient, see it's origins, give gratitude to the plants, to the Earth Mother, the goats whose milk has made the yogurt, and to the humans who farmed, packaged and got everything I need into the stores where I bought it, got it home and prepared it. I give gratitude to the energy of all the beings known and unknown to me that went into the creation of what I am about to consume, what is about to become part of me, to nourish me and to bring me into balance. I feel the balanced energy of the stew, I feel my energy body moving into alignment. Yin inseparable from yang in a beautiful dance that is my lifeforce where sometimes one leads and sometimes the other. It strikes me that one can't eat compulsively if one stops to give gratitude for the food one is consuming and connects to what has actually gone into its creation. May the end of my compulsive eating be a fruit of my 40 days and 40 nights!
--------------
*Today, at my altar, I prayed for the flood victims of Pakistan. As I re-read the words "...rainy days get me down" sitting in my dry apartment at my Macbook Pro with a nice 21 inch monitor, I say to myself, "Riva! Honey! Get a grip!"
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 16
8:40am Day 16.... I'm still wowed by the prospects (to paraphrase my friend Suzu) of who I will be at the end of the 40 days.
I'm actually sleeping better than I can ever remember. Along with the break I'm giving my body by only asking it to digest the easily digestible kitchari, now I'm giving it restorative sleep, too! What will they think of next!? Exercise, perhaps!? I can hear my grandmother tsk, tsk, tsking in the background -- "be careful, you'll fall," she said in yiddish, as I ride my bike with joyful abandon down a short ramp leading to the basement of the apartment building where I grew up. This was something I'd done without falling more times than I could remember at that tender age of 8 or 9. It was also the last time I ever did it because . . . I fell. My grandmother, Bubbe Esther, who couldn't have been but a few years older than I am now, happened to be walking by just as I began my descent. She issued her warning (or was it a prophecy?); I said "no I won't" and within seconds I was down and bleeding. I imagine this to be one of the key Stories that keeps me attached to fear around using my body in particular ways. A good story to make peace with and release. Writing it now, perhaps she was making a prophecy, referring only to that particular trip down the ramp and not to all future trips. But since prophecy was outside the lexicon of Tremont Avenue in the Bronx in 1956, it couldn't have occurred to me till now.
Oh God, how I loved my bike and how it felt to ride! May the memory of that infuse me with the willingness to feel that again -- even if the bike I ride is attached to a floor in my co-op's exercise room! And may I be willing to let go of all the self-limiting Stories I carry.
Today feels like the day to turn my attention to the Forgiveness Ritual I'll be doing on September 18th -- Yom Kippur. I want to learn more about forgiveness -- what it means and what it doesn't mean. I'm curious about what Yom Kippur really is about and how, if at all, to work any specific practices from the Yom Kippur tradition into the ritual. I will, of course, journey for Spirit-help in crafting this ritual, but I like to arrive having done my homework, so to speak. More on this as it unfolds.
Onward into this day.
I'm actually sleeping better than I can ever remember. Along with the break I'm giving my body by only asking it to digest the easily digestible kitchari, now I'm giving it restorative sleep, too! What will they think of next!? Exercise, perhaps!? I can hear my grandmother tsk, tsk, tsking in the background -- "be careful, you'll fall," she said in yiddish, as I ride my bike with joyful abandon down a short ramp leading to the basement of the apartment building where I grew up. This was something I'd done without falling more times than I could remember at that tender age of 8 or 9. It was also the last time I ever did it because . . . I fell. My grandmother, Bubbe Esther, who couldn't have been but a few years older than I am now, happened to be walking by just as I began my descent. She issued her warning (or was it a prophecy?); I said "no I won't" and within seconds I was down and bleeding. I imagine this to be one of the key Stories that keeps me attached to fear around using my body in particular ways. A good story to make peace with and release. Writing it now, perhaps she was making a prophecy, referring only to that particular trip down the ramp and not to all future trips. But since prophecy was outside the lexicon of Tremont Avenue in the Bronx in 1956, it couldn't have occurred to me till now.
Oh God, how I loved my bike and how it felt to ride! May the memory of that infuse me with the willingness to feel that again -- even if the bike I ride is attached to a floor in my co-op's exercise room! And may I be willing to let go of all the self-limiting Stories I carry.
Today feels like the day to turn my attention to the Forgiveness Ritual I'll be doing on September 18th -- Yom Kippur. I want to learn more about forgiveness -- what it means and what it doesn't mean. I'm curious about what Yom Kippur really is about and how, if at all, to work any specific practices from the Yom Kippur tradition into the ritual. I will, of course, journey for Spirit-help in crafting this ritual, but I like to arrive having done my homework, so to speak. More on this as it unfolds.
Onward into this day.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 14
9:32am The day got away from me yesterday and I missed a day of posting to the blog. I'm not sure I actually meant to be posting everyday, but that's what ended up happening -- until now.
So I'm trying not let the fact that my body is smaller overtake all the other reasons that I'm engaged in this practice. Today, when I got on the scale, it hadn't moved since yesterday and I felt a little bit of a let down -- enough to have me know I need to check myself on this. That I've been following this path for two solid weeks without any inclination to stop or "cheat," that my days are filled with such rich experiences of all kinds: deep intuitive knowings; a daily, satisfying spiritual and creative practice; wonderful connection with all sorts of people; and that I'm feeling so physically well -- these are the fruits of this practice. The shedding of excess weight is so very welcome and yet I'm aware of the power of the numbers game to sweep away these other benefits. When people comment on how I look, which people seem to feel called to do a lot these days, I feel deeply they're seeing the internal shifts. But there's another part that believes they're more comfortable with me as I drop weight. It's not easy letting go of the standard of measure that's been with me for a lifetime, but let it go I will -- through prayer and through consciousness, to the best of my growing ability.
Onward into Day 14.
So I'm trying not let the fact that my body is smaller overtake all the other reasons that I'm engaged in this practice. Today, when I got on the scale, it hadn't moved since yesterday and I felt a little bit of a let down -- enough to have me know I need to check myself on this. That I've been following this path for two solid weeks without any inclination to stop or "cheat," that my days are filled with such rich experiences of all kinds: deep intuitive knowings; a daily, satisfying spiritual and creative practice; wonderful connection with all sorts of people; and that I'm feeling so physically well -- these are the fruits of this practice. The shedding of excess weight is so very welcome and yet I'm aware of the power of the numbers game to sweep away these other benefits. When people comment on how I look, which people seem to feel called to do a lot these days, I feel deeply they're seeing the internal shifts. But there's another part that believes they're more comfortable with me as I drop weight. It's not easy letting go of the standard of measure that's been with me for a lifetime, but let it go I will -- through prayer and through consciousness, to the best of my growing ability.
Onward into Day 14.
Friday, August 20, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 12
11:13pm Long, busy day and yet not much to report. Today included an organizational thing that had me sitting at a table with a group of people eating a fabulous looking spread of healthy, well-prepared food (+ a seemingly endless supply of beer). It's not that I wished I could eat and drink as the others were — I can honestly say my mouth didn't even water (though it is now as I sit and think about the food that was there). I'd had a nice helping of kitcheree before going to this shindig and arrived intentionally late. Though folks were still eating, some speechifying was going to happen that I needed to listen to. Because of that, my focus was on the speaker and not on the food, and others were less involved with my not eating. It went fine. I felt, to some extent, outside the group. But truth be told, that's always been true. Only my consciousness about it has changed and I am unwilling to participate in something not right for me so that I can feel like I belong. It all worked out fine with more opportunities to observe and learn and feel ok about myself. Time to sleep.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 11
8:42pm The day, kitcheree-wise, has gotten away from me. Though it's getting on toward 9pm I've got to put up a batch of kitcheree for tomorrow. I gave some of it to my beloved, who was in need of grounding, clean, homemade food. No better use, as far as I can tell, but now I must start the process of making it because I've used the last of the current batch for my evening portion. It's not that it's hard to make, but by the time I'm done, it'll probably be 10:30. And I guess if I continue writing now, it will be even later. So....
9:57pm I've just turned the kitcheree off. I've made it with red lentils tonight instead of mung beans, something I haven't tried before, though the recipe I've been using says it's a perfectly fine option. I guess I was feeling daring enough to try something new. Or was it that I was feeling safe enough to risk a batch I might not like as well? Safe enough? Flexibility around food. I may not like it, but it will be nourishing and I will eat it because it is my hope to come out of this experience with the ability and willingness to eat for the sake of nourishment, to have that be the pleasure in the food I eat, that I am beautifully nourishing this container that is housing my spirit, my gifts; this body that carries me from place to place, facilitates my engagement with all the amazing people in my life. So, feeling safe seems to be a key ingredient in self-care. That's news to me and is coming up a lot lately. Has removing food as a drug opened me up to the truth of how I've used food to feel safe. It doesn't seem like a shocking revelation as I write it now. But arriving at it through this reflection makes it more real than if I'd read it somewhere else, or had the thought in the midst of a sugar high or in fog induced by compulsive overeating. Amazing what I see when I actually take a look at a thing.
9:57pm I've just turned the kitcheree off. I've made it with red lentils tonight instead of mung beans, something I haven't tried before, though the recipe I've been using says it's a perfectly fine option. I guess I was feeling daring enough to try something new. Or was it that I was feeling safe enough to risk a batch I might not like as well? Safe enough? Flexibility around food. I may not like it, but it will be nourishing and I will eat it because it is my hope to come out of this experience with the ability and willingness to eat for the sake of nourishment, to have that be the pleasure in the food I eat, that I am beautifully nourishing this container that is housing my spirit, my gifts; this body that carries me from place to place, facilitates my engagement with all the amazing people in my life. So, feeling safe seems to be a key ingredient in self-care. That's news to me and is coming up a lot lately. Has removing food as a drug opened me up to the truth of how I've used food to feel safe. It doesn't seem like a shocking revelation as I write it now. But arriving at it through this reflection makes it more real than if I'd read it somewhere else, or had the thought in the midst of a sugar high or in fog induced by compulsive overeating. Amazing what I see when I actually take a look at a thing.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 10
10:02pm The end of the tenth day. A quarter of the way there. I really can't believe I've been eating this one thing for 10 days. I find it completely delicious and satisfying, I love the effects it's having on my body, and I just can't believe that's all I've been eating. Keeping stocked with the ingredients I need, preparing, cooking, and eating kitcharee, along with the rest of the things life has to offer has brought a simplicity to my life and an ease to my body. Much less joint pain, much less digestive disturbance. Giving my body a rest from processing all the things I've thrown at it seems like such a gift. The thing that has come in so strongly and comfortably is a spiritual practice I feel good about, secure in. Why is that? What comes in answer, like last night, is that my Hungry Ghost has left the house. Instead of focusing on having, on getting, on fear of there not being enough, I'm living consciously in a space of openness, of allowing; a space where there's room to remember intentions -- like the intention to listen for information that comes intuitively. To hear it and trust it. There's so much more of it in this space created by letting my body rest from processing too much food, the wrong food; rest from having to metabolize endless amounts of toxicity.
I'm not one to boycott news -- I've been a big NPR listener, and I have had the habit of checking in on NYTimes.com several times a day. I think it's important to know. But in this period, I find myself thrown into hopelessness when I listen too much to the news. So instead of NPR in the car and frequent looks at the Times on my blackberry and computer, I scan a daily summary from the Huffington Post that comes into my inbox. I can better keep my equilibrium -- not get angry at countless examples of human greed in the face of human suffering and planetary destruction, or at smelling the red herrings being waved under the noses of America in an effort to have it stay focused on hatred: Islam equals terrorism and God hates queers rather than on the American Corporatocracy -- which will destroy everything. And so, during this time, when I feel that I'm strengthening my field, stepping away from the model of self-care that is best reflected in humanity's lack of care for the Earth Mother, I am trying to be discerning about what I consume from the media at the same time as I remain informed. Not exactly a news fast, maybe call it news discernment. Seems right to not assault my senses while I'm giving my body a break. Let me know if I miss anything important!
I'm not one to boycott news -- I've been a big NPR listener, and I have had the habit of checking in on NYTimes.com several times a day. I think it's important to know. But in this period, I find myself thrown into hopelessness when I listen too much to the news. So instead of NPR in the car and frequent looks at the Times on my blackberry and computer, I scan a daily summary from the Huffington Post that comes into my inbox. I can better keep my equilibrium -- not get angry at countless examples of human greed in the face of human suffering and planetary destruction, or at smelling the red herrings being waved under the noses of America in an effort to have it stay focused on hatred: Islam equals terrorism and God hates queers rather than on the American Corporatocracy -- which will destroy everything. And so, during this time, when I feel that I'm strengthening my field, stepping away from the model of self-care that is best reflected in humanity's lack of care for the Earth Mother, I am trying to be discerning about what I consume from the media at the same time as I remain informed. Not exactly a news fast, maybe call it news discernment. Seems right to not assault my senses while I'm giving my body a break. Let me know if I miss anything important!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 9
8:24pm Today, I found myself away from home (and my kitcheree supply) for a longer stretch than I'd anticipated. I'd contemplated taking a to-go bowl with me but I didn't. I'd left the house feeling very satisfied from my midday portion and was sure I'd comfortably make it home for the next meal. Well, I was wrong. I was out and, after a wonderful, inspiring few hours with several dear friends, I was extremely hungry. I don't get the severe hungry pangs I'd had in the first few days. The hunger hit as a slight disturbance in my stomach, but I could feel it in my head, the way my mind was functioning -- it was running on empty. So here I was, faced with the challenge to not panic. I was determined to find an Asian market so I could pick up a supply of garam masala, a spice I've come to love in my kitcheree. I didn't want to have to rush home to feed myself. As I drove down Central Avenue through lower Westchester, I was aware that at another time, I'd have just gotten either a nosh or a meal. I felt relief at knowing that simply wasn't an option for me now and that hungry is just another way to feel. It's a problem that would be deliciously solved in very short order. I was once again struck at how privileged I am. This fast puts me squarely into the middle of how rich my life is. I don't think I could have predicted that an ongoing experience of physical hunger would have given me this lesson. Could this be the beginning of the end for my Hungry Ghost -- the one who has clung to her addictive behaviors like her life depended on it. I pray for that.
A factoid about kitcheree: this won't be news to anyone who cooks, but here it is anyway -- like cholent, like stew, kitcheree improves exponentially the next day. I want to try to get into a cycle of cooking the next batch at least a day before I need it. Make a note.
A factoid about kitcheree: this won't be news to anyone who cooks, but here it is anyway -- like cholent, like stew, kitcheree improves exponentially the next day. I want to try to get into a cycle of cooking the next batch at least a day before I need it. Make a note.
Monday, August 16, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 8
7:52 Such wonderful response from so many people! Thank you, everyone for peeking in from time to time. I'm a fifth of the way there and am feeling wonderful and looking forward to the continued unfolding.
"The day job" was very demanding today. I'm tired in that way I get when I've been intensely engaged in graphic design. Lots of opportunity to be annoyed at clients who, unless they find their way to this blog, won't know I think of my work for them as "the day job." This is actually a very recent development. I'd say that it dates from when I was initiated as a candidate for the ministry which, as many of you know, happened in June. I've been a graphic designer for 56 years(!) — since I was five and I would help my father with his work putting together journals and books. I used to call book design "doing God's work," books being so sacred in the family I grew up in. Maybe if I were still in book publishing, I'd still feel that way about what I do to make money. I left to go have babies — a different sort of "God's work" and when I went back to paid employment I just took whatever job arrived first -- an ad agency for a while and then a trade magazine publishing company, which took me very far away from books and from putting my energies into things that I personally valued. I wish I'd known then what I know now. I wish I could have valued myself then the way I do now. As much as I try to not live in regret, I'm giving this voice as the feeling arises in me. I know it won't linger, but there it is. I'm grateful that I value myself more now and am living in the faith that I am already engaged in the next right thing. "The day job" will have to fund me a little longer, but mostly, I am grateful to have a way of funding my life until the next thing emerges. For today, as I have my evening portion or kitcheri and update the blog, I notice that doing God's work seems to be what I came in to this life to do.
Feeling so grateful for my life and for all the miracles I've witnessed and been the beneficiary of.
"The day job" was very demanding today. I'm tired in that way I get when I've been intensely engaged in graphic design. Lots of opportunity to be annoyed at clients who, unless they find their way to this blog, won't know I think of my work for them as "the day job." This is actually a very recent development. I'd say that it dates from when I was initiated as a candidate for the ministry which, as many of you know, happened in June. I've been a graphic designer for 56 years(!) — since I was five and I would help my father with his work putting together journals and books. I used to call book design "doing God's work," books being so sacred in the family I grew up in. Maybe if I were still in book publishing, I'd still feel that way about what I do to make money. I left to go have babies — a different sort of "God's work" and when I went back to paid employment I just took whatever job arrived first -- an ad agency for a while and then a trade magazine publishing company, which took me very far away from books and from putting my energies into things that I personally valued. I wish I'd known then what I know now. I wish I could have valued myself then the way I do now. As much as I try to not live in regret, I'm giving this voice as the feeling arises in me. I know it won't linger, but there it is. I'm grateful that I value myself more now and am living in the faith that I am already engaged in the next right thing. "The day job" will have to fund me a little longer, but mostly, I am grateful to have a way of funding my life until the next thing emerges. For today, as I have my evening portion or kitcheri and update the blog, I notice that doing God's work seems to be what I came in to this life to do.
Feeling so grateful for my life and for all the miracles I've witnessed and been the beneficiary of.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 7
2:03pm Ready for a nap. I tried taking a yoga class this morning and I did it without having a morning meal, thinking that all this great energy I've been having would see me through and I'd have the unique experience of taking a movement class on an empty stomach. I say unique because my anxiety about being feint with hunger has always had me eat before things like this. Then I get too full and am sorry. So here was a great opportunity to experiment with this growing new relationship with food. Midway through, I had a wave of nausea coupled with a twinge in my back that reminded me I'd been crippled with back pain less than a week ago. And so I stopped. I left the class, waited for Sivasana and congratulated myself for not trying to push through. I had a very deep Sivasana which was a gift and a blessing. I find it hard to value yoga nidra, though I should know better.
My breakfast was again delayed because I had a meeting scheduled for after the class. So I ended up have my first bowl of kitchari at about 12:15. And now I'm sleepy and will attempt a nap -- something I used to really excel at, but now, not so much. I prefer the hyper energy. I've always been a bit of a speed freak!
7:57 An interesting thought came to me just now as I was contemplating the soon-to-be-upon-us Mercury Retrograde (August 20-September 12). I've noticed that, though I don't know my left from my right, my sense of direction is excellent and I'm rarely lost for very long. I can also find lost things well (better for others than myself -- for that, my younger daughter has the gift). It occurred to be that I have tracker medicine. Writing this blog is tracking a process. It feels daring but it also feels natural. It occurred to me that rather than be at the affect of pesky mercury retrograde, I'd do a ritual of protection and then track the three week period. Somehow bringing this sort of awareness to it makes it more interesting than frightening.
In truth, for me, there's so much more time to capture thoughts when not focused on food! It really feels true that the purpose of eating compulsively, for me, was to keep it all quiet in there as a way to keep myself out of trouble. No more.
My breakfast was again delayed because I had a meeting scheduled for after the class. So I ended up have my first bowl of kitchari at about 12:15. And now I'm sleepy and will attempt a nap -- something I used to really excel at, but now, not so much. I prefer the hyper energy. I've always been a bit of a speed freak!
7:57 An interesting thought came to me just now as I was contemplating the soon-to-be-upon-us Mercury Retrograde (August 20-September 12). I've noticed that, though I don't know my left from my right, my sense of direction is excellent and I'm rarely lost for very long. I can also find lost things well (better for others than myself -- for that, my younger daughter has the gift). It occurred to be that I have tracker medicine. Writing this blog is tracking a process. It feels daring but it also feels natural. It occurred to me that rather than be at the affect of pesky mercury retrograde, I'd do a ritual of protection and then track the three week period. Somehow bringing this sort of awareness to it makes it more interesting than frightening.
In truth, for me, there's so much more time to capture thoughts when not focused on food! It really feels true that the purpose of eating compulsively, for me, was to keep it all quiet in there as a way to keep myself out of trouble. No more.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 6
6:15pm A wonderful day so far with my spiritual family at One Spirit Interfaith Seminary and with my daughters and granddaughter up at the family country house in Putnam Valley. How blessed do I feel to have all this abundance. Today I am much with the freedom of not having to consider what I will be eating. I'm loving how simple life is with this mono-diet--so much more time, a spaciousness around things. And then there's how great I feel, so much less joint pain, so much more energy. I find myself talking. A lot. Animatedly. With great gusto and detail. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to be careful to not become a total pain in the ass. If this abundant energy continues for the next 34 days... what. What will I do? I guess I'll find out!
Going to hear music tonight at the community social hall, and maybe dancing!!
Going to hear music tonight at the community social hall, and maybe dancing!!
Friday, August 13, 2010
40 days and 40 nights -- Day 5
9:14am So far so good today. Remembered to ask Spirit's help. Funny how I forget to do that! Encountered my deep, crippling fear that I CAN'T function without food. Praying to have that fear lifted today. I'll be mostly offline today, lots of interesting things -- a divination with DeShannon, a get-together with my writing group, and time with my kids! La illaha, Il Allahu!!
12:27am It's Saturday, but I haven't ended my Friday yet so I'm putting this entry in Day 5.
Today was transcendant! I broke my Ramadan fast (a meal at sundown called ftour in arabic) with Grace, her husband Taoufik, and Tzivia. We all had been fasting and, Grace, Taoufik, and Tzivia broke there fasts with traditional Moroccan foods and I broke mine with Kitchari. We sat at the table and talked about the meaning of Ramadan, the close relationship between Jews and Muslims, the insanity of the blood feud. The talk was deep, free ranging, moving from religion to politics to customs & culture, neurolinguistics, recipes.... it was completely satisfying and it was as though we left the normal continuum of time and suddenly it was two hours later. I think Taoufik was glad to have support for a Ramadan practice. No doubt that to attempt a practice like this and not be in community is intensely difficult. My three day visit into the monthlong practice was profoundly transforming, from the encounter with my own fear to the pride I feel at having set out to do something difficult and outside the norms of the culture I typically inhabit and actually accomplishing it (albeit imperfectly). As I move back into the the 40 day Kitchari fast I feel better equipped to deal with things as they come. Meanwhile, my eyes SO want to close and I think I'm going to let them!
12:27am It's Saturday, but I haven't ended my Friday yet so I'm putting this entry in Day 5.
Today was transcendant! I broke my Ramadan fast (a meal at sundown called ftour in arabic) with Grace, her husband Taoufik, and Tzivia. We all had been fasting and, Grace, Taoufik, and Tzivia broke there fasts with traditional Moroccan foods and I broke mine with Kitchari. We sat at the table and talked about the meaning of Ramadan, the close relationship between Jews and Muslims, the insanity of the blood feud. The talk was deep, free ranging, moving from religion to politics to customs & culture, neurolinguistics, recipes.... it was completely satisfying and it was as though we left the normal continuum of time and suddenly it was two hours later. I think Taoufik was glad to have support for a Ramadan practice. No doubt that to attempt a practice like this and not be in community is intensely difficult. My three day visit into the monthlong practice was profoundly transforming, from the encounter with my own fear to the pride I feel at having set out to do something difficult and outside the norms of the culture I typically inhabit and actually accomplishing it (albeit imperfectly). As I move back into the the 40 day Kitchari fast I feel better equipped to deal with things as they come. Meanwhile, my eyes SO want to close and I think I'm going to let them!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 4
10:38am Pre-dawn prayer session went great -- I woke up on time, sprang out of bed and did my practice. And I went right back to sleep afterwards. Feeling really good this morning, my aches and pains are less troubling today. This morning, I whipped up another batch of Kitchari for tonight and tomorrow night. Based on how my weekend is shaping up, I actually think I'll have to make a second batch today to get me through to Sunday. I'd have done it all at once if I'd had a big enough pot. It's so interesting -- different from how I live my life -- to have to structure my days around the having of ingredients and planning in the time to cook them. I've been so resistant to food prep, creating the situation, for lack of ingredients and the inclination to cook them, where I'm ordering in or eating out much more than I can afford from both a financial and a food quality standpoint. PLEASE may this bring a transformation. So far, I'm enjoying the Kitchari prep. I hope I can think of all food prep as contributing to my health and wellbeing which I have acknowledged as an important action to take for the repair of the planet. How we take care of ourselves is a reflection of how we take care of the planet.
When I went in to check on the Kitchari, I tasted it -- one little tiny slurp off the end of the wooden cooking spoon. OH NO!!! Ramadan fast!!!! What have I done!!! My first inclination, of course, was to go all the way down the "you're such a fuckup" path, but I stopped myself before I'd taken even a few steps in that direction. Everything's a lesson, Riva. What's this one? I'd gotten caught up in IM'ing with my daughters which pushed the Ramadan fast to a secondary place in my consciousness. Involvement with my kids ALWAYS shifts my focus. Somehow it seems to me to go with the territory. They are amazing women who it is my privilege to have given birth to and have had a hand in raising! Could I not lose myself as thoroughly in them? Of course! That persists in NOT being job one on my self-improvement list. But back to the lessons: amazingly, I'm not hungry. Hunger is something else that keeps the fast very present for me and I'm neither hungry or feeling that mush-headedness I had most of the day yesterday. I feel ok. Regular. And Regular Riva tastes what she cooks and isn't a participant in Ramadan. So, I must be careful to hold the space of the IR-regular. It is highly irregular, as in, not part of the last 61 years of my life, to be fasting for Ramadan. Greater vigilance is called for AND a degree of compassion for the slip. Moving on.
5:31pm I've spent the last chunk of time worrying about things and not being terribly productive about taking steps to alleviate the worry. Feeling very lethargic and feeling entitled to be lethargic. The day job is just so uninteresting. I find myself waiting for the next prayer session, reading the Times online, Facebooking, stretching out when my eyes start to close. I'm not sure what I expected. But today is hard.
6:26pm Well, writing about it helped. I took care of a few things that have been eating at me (interesting expression -- eating at me). Writing about it in the blog woke me up to it. That's what I hoped would happen and it did. It's just that till now, I had a great deal of forward momentum. Not liking that it stopped. Really very much with how much I don't like my work and how much it's not paying the bills -- which at the moment include paying for my mother's home health aides. It's a hemorrhage of dollars. The medicaid application is moving so very slowly. Having faith that all will be well is a great big stretch for me. Meanwhile, I paid some bills, will have enough to pay the aides this week and will have to move more of my retirement money out to cover the coming weeks and school tuition. After I break the fast tonight, this will not look so bleak. Thank God I've got the retirement money.
7:29pm 28 MINUTES TO BREAK-FAST!!! Sigh. I wonder if people who are practiced at Ramadan clock-watch right about now? Before I ciao down on my Kitchari, I'll pray, which hopefully will refocus me out of my hungry ghost and into my mystic heart!
9:30pm Just finished the last prayer session of the day and will go to bed. Break-fast was satifying and my inclination to eat more than I need to feel full is great. Going to bed is the best answer to the temptation to keep eating. I'm very full from what I've eaten and I'm also so tired. Tomorrow's a big day. A divination with a Yoruba priestess who is a graduate of my Seminary, a gathering with my writing group, lots of driving. I hope it goes well and that I can maintain my practice. Good night. Peace, Salaam, Sholom!
When I went in to check on the Kitchari, I tasted it -- one little tiny slurp off the end of the wooden cooking spoon. OH NO!!! Ramadan fast!!!! What have I done!!! My first inclination, of course, was to go all the way down the "you're such a fuckup" path, but I stopped myself before I'd taken even a few steps in that direction. Everything's a lesson, Riva. What's this one? I'd gotten caught up in IM'ing with my daughters which pushed the Ramadan fast to a secondary place in my consciousness. Involvement with my kids ALWAYS shifts my focus. Somehow it seems to me to go with the territory. They are amazing women who it is my privilege to have given birth to and have had a hand in raising! Could I not lose myself as thoroughly in them? Of course! That persists in NOT being job one on my self-improvement list. But back to the lessons: amazingly, I'm not hungry. Hunger is something else that keeps the fast very present for me and I'm neither hungry or feeling that mush-headedness I had most of the day yesterday. I feel ok. Regular. And Regular Riva tastes what she cooks and isn't a participant in Ramadan. So, I must be careful to hold the space of the IR-regular. It is highly irregular, as in, not part of the last 61 years of my life, to be fasting for Ramadan. Greater vigilance is called for AND a degree of compassion for the slip. Moving on.
5:31pm I've spent the last chunk of time worrying about things and not being terribly productive about taking steps to alleviate the worry. Feeling very lethargic and feeling entitled to be lethargic. The day job is just so uninteresting. I find myself waiting for the next prayer session, reading the Times online, Facebooking, stretching out when my eyes start to close. I'm not sure what I expected. But today is hard.
6:26pm Well, writing about it helped. I took care of a few things that have been eating at me (interesting expression -- eating at me). Writing about it in the blog woke me up to it. That's what I hoped would happen and it did. It's just that till now, I had a great deal of forward momentum. Not liking that it stopped. Really very much with how much I don't like my work and how much it's not paying the bills -- which at the moment include paying for my mother's home health aides. It's a hemorrhage of dollars. The medicaid application is moving so very slowly. Having faith that all will be well is a great big stretch for me. Meanwhile, I paid some bills, will have enough to pay the aides this week and will have to move more of my retirement money out to cover the coming weeks and school tuition. After I break the fast tonight, this will not look so bleak. Thank God I've got the retirement money.
7:29pm 28 MINUTES TO BREAK-FAST!!! Sigh. I wonder if people who are practiced at Ramadan clock-watch right about now? Before I ciao down on my Kitchari, I'll pray, which hopefully will refocus me out of my hungry ghost and into my mystic heart!
9:30pm Just finished the last prayer session of the day and will go to bed. Break-fast was satifying and my inclination to eat more than I need to feel full is great. Going to bed is the best answer to the temptation to keep eating. I'm very full from what I've eaten and I'm also so tired. Tomorrow's a big day. A divination with a Yoruba priestess who is a graduate of my Seminary, a gathering with my writing group, lots of driving. I hope it goes well and that I can maintain my practice. Good night. Peace, Salaam, Sholom!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 3
8am Well, the morning alert on my blackberry, set as a call to prayer failed to wake me at 4:38 as it was supposed to. I'll have to come up with an alternative for tomorrow. I got up at 5:08 and did a prayer session. I will not be daunted by doing this less than perfectly. It is a reminder that a solitary practice is very hard indeed. I went back to bed after prayer and, in a semi-doze, saw and felt the twin towers burning, people falling. I was appalled by the vision and appalled that my first moment of stepping into Islamic shoes, as an American-Jew with a commitment to Interfaith/interspirituality, had me make the association to a terror attack.
I am disoriented to not be beginning my day with a meal.
11:09am Noticing that I'm thinking people are mad at me. Very compelling. Very familiar. "What you're doing is weird and you're unavailable to me" is how this script goes. I keep scanning the various relationships that I'm worrying about for what I might have done to give offense. As the morning has progressed.... Phone call from my mother to say my uncle, her brother, with whom she hasn't spoken in 20 years, is on his deathbed. I felt Trickster must be in the house to hand me this to have to negotiate during this period and especially on a day when I won't be eating anything until much later. And I have the massage at 1:15 which I absolutely will not cancel.
5:43pm Am much better on all fronts since my wonderful massage with Suzu and a visit with Jai and then Suzu and Betsy, who drove me home. Before I left for the massage, I called my cousin, who's father it is that is dying, and left a message. She and I haven't spoken in probably 15 years. My other cousin, her brother, is at my uncle's bedside. It's my understanding that my uncle forbade both his children, on pain of disinheritance, from having contact with me and my mother. A long story involving my calling him on his inappropriate sexual behavior toward me when I was a teen, and to his daughter, all her childhood and adolescence, until she could get out of his house. It telling this to Betsy, and adding how I felt that Trickster was surely in the house, she pointed out to me that I have dedicated this fast to peace and that it will culminate in a Forgiveness Ritual. I have once again called in Spirit and have been taken seriously. Getting back from the massage and paying a visit to my mother who is attempting to process her brother's dying in the midst of her alzheimers caused me to miss the 3rd call to prayer. I will do it now so that I get 5 prayer sessions into this day. It's the progress, not the perfection.
6:54pm I keep starting to get up and go to the kitchen. I'm very hungry. Sundown isn't until 7:59 and there's another call to prayer coming at 8pm. I'm kind of spacey in my head, also headachey. Not very comfortable, but on the other hand, it IS interesting. I'm amazed that I haven't eaten anything since last night. I don't myself to be capable of something like this. Since 40 days is a number of transformation, perhaps eating this way for that long will transform my beliefs about myself vis a vis what I can and can't do with food. Click here and scroll down to "religion" to see all the transformations that happened after 40 days or 40 years in many faith traditions!
9:16pm Broke my fast with Kitchari and a dollop of goat milk yogurt. Very delicious. I'm a few minutes away from the 5th prayer period and if I'm smart, I'll call it a day after that. I've set my alarm for 4:37am. I realize that with sunrise not until 6:01, I can have another bowl of food which will hopefully help me with the day job. Tried watching television and simply couldn't. The network dramas that used to engage my attention don't anymore and though some of the educational TV is interesting, it just seems like a way to fill time rather than have any meaning. Perhaps this period will lead me to ways of relaxing that don't involve being entertained by really silly things and then enduring advertising. More will be revealed.
I am disoriented to not be beginning my day with a meal.
11:09am Noticing that I'm thinking people are mad at me. Very compelling. Very familiar. "What you're doing is weird and you're unavailable to me" is how this script goes. I keep scanning the various relationships that I'm worrying about for what I might have done to give offense. As the morning has progressed.... Phone call from my mother to say my uncle, her brother, with whom she hasn't spoken in 20 years, is on his deathbed. I felt Trickster must be in the house to hand me this to have to negotiate during this period and especially on a day when I won't be eating anything until much later. And I have the massage at 1:15 which I absolutely will not cancel.
5:43pm Am much better on all fronts since my wonderful massage with Suzu and a visit with Jai and then Suzu and Betsy, who drove me home. Before I left for the massage, I called my cousin, who's father it is that is dying, and left a message. She and I haven't spoken in probably 15 years. My other cousin, her brother, is at my uncle's bedside. It's my understanding that my uncle forbade both his children, on pain of disinheritance, from having contact with me and my mother. A long story involving my calling him on his inappropriate sexual behavior toward me when I was a teen, and to his daughter, all her childhood and adolescence, until she could get out of his house. It telling this to Betsy, and adding how I felt that Trickster was surely in the house, she pointed out to me that I have dedicated this fast to peace and that it will culminate in a Forgiveness Ritual. I have once again called in Spirit and have been taken seriously. Getting back from the massage and paying a visit to my mother who is attempting to process her brother's dying in the midst of her alzheimers caused me to miss the 3rd call to prayer. I will do it now so that I get 5 prayer sessions into this day. It's the progress, not the perfection.
6:54pm I keep starting to get up and go to the kitchen. I'm very hungry. Sundown isn't until 7:59 and there's another call to prayer coming at 8pm. I'm kind of spacey in my head, also headachey. Not very comfortable, but on the other hand, it IS interesting. I'm amazed that I haven't eaten anything since last night. I don't myself to be capable of something like this. Since 40 days is a number of transformation, perhaps eating this way for that long will transform my beliefs about myself vis a vis what I can and can't do with food. Click here and scroll down to "religion" to see all the transformations that happened after 40 days or 40 years in many faith traditions!
9:16pm Broke my fast with Kitchari and a dollop of goat milk yogurt. Very delicious. I'm a few minutes away from the 5th prayer period and if I'm smart, I'll call it a day after that. I've set my alarm for 4:37am. I realize that with sunrise not until 6:01, I can have another bowl of food which will hopefully help me with the day job. Tried watching television and simply couldn't. The network dramas that used to engage my attention don't anymore and though some of the educational TV is interesting, it just seems like a way to fill time rather than have any meaning. Perhaps this period will lead me to ways of relaxing that don't involve being entertained by really silly things and then enduring advertising. More will be revealed.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 2
8am Well, my low back is really out now. I want to jump ahead, over the pain of it, over the healing of it, right to the lesson -- what is this here to teach me? Yeah. Right. Really I want to jump to the pity party that has me dropping this whole ambitious and very publicly conducted 40-day plan. I have good reason to believe my acupuncturist will bring me some relief and I'm hoping to get a massage in the coming days. "How are you going to move a pot with 4 quarts of water in it?" the old internalized voice of doom frets at me. This is an old story, so many reasons to not move forward on plans big and small. Writing about it here will be my best defense against The Saboteur.
11am Me and The Saboteur are back from acupuncture. A lot of relief but still am having trouble walking and the thought of carrying the 4 quarts of water from sink to stove is daunting. I'm devising occupational therapy strategies so that there's little or no lifting and carrying going to happen. I've also asked a friend, Jai Kartar, to come over and help. So this is going to happen with a lot of help. A LOT of help. And that, right there, is why I've made this public. Left to my own devices, and not meaning to be harsh or overly self-critical, when my body fails me, I'm a quitter. And quitting is just not an option for me this time! The only way through it is through it.
4pm Jai came over and we sat and talked. I noticed how much energy I have, how much sharper my thinking is, how much freer my breathing is. I got the next batch of Kitchari up and it was done by 1:30. I even sent some home with Jai, which pleased me because she has often brought me things to eat and this is the first time I've been able to reciprocate. By the time she left, I knew I could manage the pot. I'd filled it one measuring cup at a time. I've begun to think about tomorrow -- the first day I'll be observing the Ramadan fast. I set my blackberry appointment book function for the five prayer times and I feel ready. Now, I'm off, with a great deal of trepidation, to the CD release concert on the lower east side. But I'm such an Angel Band groupie. I'm dragging my hurting back and carrying a tupperware container filled with Kitchari and I'm off.
11:15 Just back from the CD release gig. Just fantastic! AND I survived without a meal out and anything but 2 bottles of designer seltzer to fulfill my drink minimum at the club. Much less hunger today! Had few bites of the portion I brought before I drove back up the Bronx. This second batch is tastier that the first. Another few batches and I'll have it down. Now, I'm having my last bowl full of kitchari until tomorrow after sundown -- tomorrow begins the three days I will joining the Ramadan fast. My clock is set for 4:38am which is the first of the five muslim prayer times. Another challenge!
As-Salāmu `Alaykum (السلام عليكم)
11am Me and The Saboteur are back from acupuncture. A lot of relief but still am having trouble walking and the thought of carrying the 4 quarts of water from sink to stove is daunting. I'm devising occupational therapy strategies so that there's little or no lifting and carrying going to happen. I've also asked a friend, Jai Kartar, to come over and help. So this is going to happen with a lot of help. A LOT of help. And that, right there, is why I've made this public. Left to my own devices, and not meaning to be harsh or overly self-critical, when my body fails me, I'm a quitter. And quitting is just not an option for me this time! The only way through it is through it.
4pm Jai came over and we sat and talked. I noticed how much energy I have, how much sharper my thinking is, how much freer my breathing is. I got the next batch of Kitchari up and it was done by 1:30. I even sent some home with Jai, which pleased me because she has often brought me things to eat and this is the first time I've been able to reciprocate. By the time she left, I knew I could manage the pot. I'd filled it one measuring cup at a time. I've begun to think about tomorrow -- the first day I'll be observing the Ramadan fast. I set my blackberry appointment book function for the five prayer times and I feel ready. Now, I'm off, with a great deal of trepidation, to the CD release concert on the lower east side. But I'm such an Angel Band groupie. I'm dragging my hurting back and carrying a tupperware container filled with Kitchari and I'm off.
11:15 Just back from the CD release gig. Just fantastic! AND I survived without a meal out and anything but 2 bottles of designer seltzer to fulfill my drink minimum at the club. Much less hunger today! Had few bites of the portion I brought before I drove back up the Bronx. This second batch is tastier that the first. Another few batches and I'll have it down. Now, I'm having my last bowl full of kitchari until tomorrow after sundown -- tomorrow begins the three days I will joining the Ramadan fast. My clock is set for 4:38am which is the first of the five muslim prayer times. Another challenge!
As-Salāmu `Alaykum (السلام عليكم)
Monday, August 9, 2010
40 days and 40 nights — Day 1, evening
I had my first bowl of kitchari at 11:30 this morning. So delicious. This is still the test batch I made yesterday in Grace's kitchen. I wondered if the spices would grow and develop overnight because it was remarkably tasteless for something with turmeric, cumin, red pepper, and black pepper. I'm not a big fan of ultra-spicey hot food so I think I may have used too light a touch. It WAS more flavorful today. I added fresh ginger (which I didn't have yesterday) and a dash of cardamom. Definitely enhanced the flavor.
I experienced hunger several times, pushing against it as much as I could before going for another bowl. It's now 8:11p.m. I'm feeling hungry again and drinking water and tea just doesn't seem to touch the hunger. I'll be going to the airport to pick up my daughter at 10:45 rather than going to sleep early, which seems like what I ought to be doing on the first day of a cleanse. Life unrelenting.
But so far, it's been a good day. Though my back is still painfully "out," my digestion does actually feel easier and my mind feels strangely sharp, I've been icing the back and gently stretching. I'm pretty sure aspirin is not a typical part of a kitchari fast but it seemed what was called for today. Tomorrow, I'll see my acupuncturist at 9am. I wonder what my pulses will feel like after a day of kitchari! More tomorrow.
I experienced hunger several times, pushing against it as much as I could before going for another bowl. It's now 8:11p.m. I'm feeling hungry again and drinking water and tea just doesn't seem to touch the hunger. I'll be going to the airport to pick up my daughter at 10:45 rather than going to sleep early, which seems like what I ought to be doing on the first day of a cleanse. Life unrelenting.
But so far, it's been a good day. Though my back is still painfully "out," my digestion does actually feel easier and my mind feels strangely sharp, I've been icing the back and gently stretching. I'm pretty sure aspirin is not a typical part of a kitchari fast but it seemed what was called for today. Tomorrow, I'll see my acupuncturist at 9am. I wonder what my pulses will feel like after a day of kitchari! More tomorrow.
40 days and 40 nights — Day 1
So, today is Day One of my 40-day Kitchari fast. Kitchari, used as a cleanse and to support healing, will be the only food I'll eat for this period. It is described as follows:
Kitchari (pronounced kitch-a-ree) is a staple comfort food of India, also known as khichari, khitchari, and kitchiri, and also sometimes referred to as kedgeree (though incorrectly, as that is an English dish). The word "kitchari' means "mixture" or "mess" as in "mess of pottage" or "mess of stew" or porridge. The main ingredients are rice and mung beans, to which a variety of spices and other vegetables may be added. ( http://www.allaboutfasting.com/kitchari.html )
Perfect! Indian cholent: the Jewish equivalent culinary "mess," the food that sends me to my happy place. I will eat only this for the next 40 days. During that time, from August 11-13, I will join my Muslim brothers and sisters as they move into their monthlong Ramadan fast and I will consume Kitchari only between sundown and sunrise. 40 days from today is Yom Kippur when, for the first time ever, I will fast as I stand in circle around a medicine wheel in a wooded place, near a stream, in community with others as a participant and officiant at a Forgiveness Ritual. And then I will break my 40 day Kitchari fast with a well-planned meal.
I don't pretend to know what transformations will occur in me, in my community, and in the world during the course of these 40 days. But as I embark on this, having made the decision to go public with it and chronicle my experience as the days pass, I set the intention to be rigorously honest and open, to rid my body of war and intolerance as I rid it of toxins; that my fast, connecting Ramadan to Yom Kippur, connects me to my Muslim sisters and brothers and stands as a peace offering and a healing between two peoples who are ancestors of my bloodline. I also intend to use this as a portal to healing my body which I really do need in good working order as I move into the next phase of my life as a sacred activist.
During this time, I will have to negotiate a CD release party at a club, a Day of Reconnection with my community at One Spirit Interfaith Seminary, any number of family gatherings. I will have to work at my day job, and heal my low back which went out last night as I shlepped heavy packages from my car to my apartment, including two large glass containers of freshly made Kitchari which I'd cooked in the extraordinary country kitchen of my dear friend and sacred sister, Grace.
That's it for now. Perhaps more later; certainly tomorrow.
Tikun Olam, Mitakuye Oyasin, All My Relations,
Riva
Kitchari (pronounced kitch-a-ree) is a staple comfort food of India, also known as khichari, khitchari, and kitchiri, and also sometimes referred to as kedgeree (though incorrectly, as that is an English dish). The word "kitchari' means "mixture" or "mess" as in "mess of pottage" or "mess of stew" or porridge. The main ingredients are rice and mung beans, to which a variety of spices and other vegetables may be added. ( http://www.allaboutfasting.com/kitchari.html )
Perfect! Indian cholent: the Jewish equivalent culinary "mess," the food that sends me to my happy place. I will eat only this for the next 40 days. During that time, from August 11-13, I will join my Muslim brothers and sisters as they move into their monthlong Ramadan fast and I will consume Kitchari only between sundown and sunrise. 40 days from today is Yom Kippur when, for the first time ever, I will fast as I stand in circle around a medicine wheel in a wooded place, near a stream, in community with others as a participant and officiant at a Forgiveness Ritual. And then I will break my 40 day Kitchari fast with a well-planned meal.
I don't pretend to know what transformations will occur in me, in my community, and in the world during the course of these 40 days. But as I embark on this, having made the decision to go public with it and chronicle my experience as the days pass, I set the intention to be rigorously honest and open, to rid my body of war and intolerance as I rid it of toxins; that my fast, connecting Ramadan to Yom Kippur, connects me to my Muslim sisters and brothers and stands as a peace offering and a healing between two peoples who are ancestors of my bloodline. I also intend to use this as a portal to healing my body which I really do need in good working order as I move into the next phase of my life as a sacred activist.
During this time, I will have to negotiate a CD release party at a club, a Day of Reconnection with my community at One Spirit Interfaith Seminary, any number of family gatherings. I will have to work at my day job, and heal my low back which went out last night as I shlepped heavy packages from my car to my apartment, including two large glass containers of freshly made Kitchari which I'd cooked in the extraordinary country kitchen of my dear friend and sacred sister, Grace.
That's it for now. Perhaps more later; certainly tomorrow.
Tikun Olam, Mitakuye Oyasin, All My Relations,
Riva
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