Body Talk
Starship Trooper
Dear reader,
Substack sent me an email with a recap of my “Summer Reading” a few days ago and somehow I clicked a button and it was sent out to my email list - on my old account, that I’m not using any longer. Sorry for the spam to your inbox!
I also have a few more posts planned and half-drafted - all of a sudden, ideas are coming in faster than I can write. Here is the latest.
Happy Autumn to you!
September
For my birthday last week, I had mentioned to my husband that I wanted to drive to Sedona to see a guy named Darryl Anka, who channels an alien entity named Bashar, who is a first-contact specialist from another planet in our multi-dimensional Universe. I’ve been familiar with Bashar for a few years or so, and I took it as a good sign that Mr. Anka was appearing in Sedona on my actual birthday.
Still, talking about Bashar with a straight face to my husband - I know it sounds “out there”. But he’s used to this by now, my woo-woo interests.
He’s a scientist, too - like, a real one - and you’d think he’d be closed-minded about metaphysics and woo topics, but no - he understands that metaphysics is really just - physics.
If you can wrap your mind around a few concepts about the quantum field, then all of it explains itself, really.
Anyways, we didn’t end up going to see Bashar because a plan came together (with Hubs’ four siblings) to surprise his parents for his Dad’s 85th birthday - a couple of days before mine - in Ohio. He flew out for the weekend.
Bashar will have to wait, and the birthday gift was the alone time.
Hub and I are home together every day. We’ve been married 27 years. A few days apart is always a nice reset. I’m glad he was able to go.
I thought I’d get a lot of writing done but the weather changed and I cleaned the house. I was able to purge a closet that had been neglected for a while.
As I sorted through my stuff, I was reminded that when you grow up poor, you tend to hang on to things forever. I’m not a hoarder by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m pretty frugal and tend to tuck usable things away if I have the space.
Three years after retiring and leaving my day job - I still had a full work wardrobe there in my closet.
Some pieces I bought twenty years ago. I’ve kept them “just in case.”
But really, just in case of what? I’ve asked myself.
What am I fearful of, exactly? Do I need 9 pairs of dusty work pants that don’t fit anymore?
Truth is, I don’t need any kind of professional wardrobe at this stage of life. What a relief it is to realize it. And if I do need something, it’s OK to buy something. Even if it’s off a clearance rack or thrifted.
I don’t know how to get over being frugal. Maybe I don’t need to. These days it’s more about the thrill of the deal and not being stupid with money.
(Toothpaste at Target: $3.99. Exact same tube at Dollar Tree: $1.25. This thrills me, friends, to no end.)
But I do need to work on the fears that motivated the frugality for so many years.
After a while, holding onto all that stuff in my closet just becomes clutter. It’s stuck, dead energy.
Mentally and physically.
Purging gets energy moving. It puts intention into action. I ask myself:
How will I have room for new things if I don’t purge old things?
How will I have room for new habits if I don’t purge old habits?
How will I recognize blessings if I don’t let go of fear?
How will I ascend to new levels if I don’t cut the dead weight?
–
About two years ago, just as I was hitting the big changeover from juicy hormones to dry rage (just kidding) - I was just feeling bloated for a few weeks. Too much bread, probably, I thought.
But it was twenty pounds that appeared out of nowhere. I was told it would happen by ladies older than me who went through it, but I somehow thought I’d be exempt.
Nope. Not exempt.
It’s been a little surreal, honestly. I’ve always been naturally “medium” and active, not too thin, not too thick, BMI in the low 20’s and overall pretty healthy except for the boob-cancer thing eight years ago.
Now that I understand why and where the weight came from, I decided to spend most of August going through a detox cleanse, and part of September, too, to kick off my 53rd year.
I won’t go into specifics, but it’s been quite thorough.
I have seen things. I’ve already lost five pounds.
I think our physical space represents our mental state - and our mental state generally is reflected in our bodies and in our living atmosphere.
Generally.
A purge of both is necessary sometimes.
Gotta clean your only home.
–
I always perceived creativity as an entirely mental process - that writing, especially a memoir - was a MENTAL thing.
But no, It is also a very very PHYSICAL thing.
It never really occurred to me until recently that a serious exercise program would help release emotions up and out of me.
I just read somewhere that our bodies are actually built for energy storage and transmission and that the crystalline structures inside our bodies - our bones, our Pineal gland, our very DNA - are part of our antennae. Our bodies pick up, record, interpret and remember information just as surely as our brain memory.
You know, when you can “feel it in your bones” or your “gut feelings”. It exists beyond our logical mind.
Instinct. Intuition. Muscle memory. Dreams. Our bodies are a hard drive, and we can transmit that information to future generations - whether it be through books or writing or art, food, other culture, in a thousand different forms.
We know that emotions affect our physiology, too. Living in a state of fear or constant stress will age you faster, suppress your immune system and make you more susceptible to disease. We know that those gene expressions can be transmitted across generations, as well.
I wonder, what generational information lives in my body? What do I need to do to learn from and honor it? What are my ancestors telling me about survival?
What can I do to adapt and stay clear in the modern age, surrounded by physical and energetic toxins?
I don’t watch the mainstream news. I don’t watch violence. I stay away from negative people.
We also know that certain organisms, like mold, fungus, parasites, heavy metals, and virus’ can affect both our emotions and physiology.
And so, I purge. I clean. I organize. Physically, mentally.
For writers who are introverted and intuitive, taking care of the physical form and clearing those energy centers are a way to tap into those memories, and venture into the Quantum Field - where there are infinite timelines to harvest ideas from, where there is pure love and intention for the act of creating, and where the past, present and future can collide into a story that only you can tell.
Clear the body. Clear the mind. Open the channels. Release the old and receive the new.
I’ve been tapping, slapping, brushing, bouncing, stretching, sweating, spending time in the sun, eating clean with no seed oils, sleeping more, taking my buffet of supplements, purging, solarizing my water, listening to binaural tones, talking to trees and animals as usual, and I’m getting plenty of good living enzymes and minerals from the earth.
Things are moving along. My body feels recalibrated a bit, much less stiff, a lot more tan. My frozen shoulder is better, my sore knee is no longer bothersome.
Next, comes the weight lifting.
-
When I was a little kid, running would put me into panic.
My heart hurt, I couldn’t breathe, I’d often feel like crying. Quick, fun spurts were fine, but having to run around a track at school? Awful. Just awful for me. My heart skipping beats and racing always had a weird effect on my mental state.
Many years later, a few years into my career as a librarian, I had the same racing, wonky heartbeat without running around a track. A cardiologist diagnosed a heart issue.
Whether it be from confrontations with patrons or staff, public speaking, performing story-times - it was a constant fight-or-flight. Whether the work was actually stressful, or whether I was perceiving it as stressful - same result. I was bathing in adrenaline and cortisol every day.
I’d get home from work, feeling like I’d run a marathon. I smelled like stress-sweat and would have to shower sometimes. I had no capacity for anything other than mothering my children and maybe being a halfway decent spouse.
Creatively, I was dead for many years as I struggled in survival mode.
Living in survival mode was ingrained from childhood, I’ve realized.
Physical fitness wasn’t ever talked about. There was only working for the paycheck, and breaking yourself for it. Anything else was considered lazy. It’s what my family did, what my grandparents did, what my mom did. There were no “mental health” days.
As my mom used to say “No one owes you anything.” Meaning, if you wanted something you had to work for it.
Retail, waitressing, front-facing customer service, caregiving - all physically and mentally exhausting. I know this from experience. To take time from already physically and mentally demanding work to go to the gym for a workout - that wasn’t a thing when I grew up, like ever.
But, I’m a big girl now and retired from my day job. I’m doing the thing I’ve always wanted to do.
It really is OK to take care of myself now, finally.
I do not have to be in survival mode any longer, because…
I SURVIVED. I’ve survived A LOT. And I’m OK.
It’s just an old habit of mind, and body, and it served its purpose. I’m of an age now where I can handle my shit.
As I’ve worked on the money and body issues over this past year, I understand better now how survival mode, money, physical health, and creativity are connected.
I feel like I’ve done some good work, but it’s time to do the heavy lifting.
I have a weight bench (currently covered in teenage-boy sweat), weights, kettlebells, resistance bands, yoga mats, and fascia blasters - all here at home.
Ironically, it turns out my grandfather, Papa, was a competitive body-builder, before he had a family. I inherited his competition photos, as well as a pair of eight pound iron dumb bells.
I love using them, they feel so good and solid in the hand. I feel his energy there.
I think it’s part of my genetic inheritance. He’s telling me: Lift heavy, lift hard, get strong, build your bones, stay mobile, grow old.
He lived to be 91.
Time to show myself the same loving patience and encouragement that I’ve shown my children.
Time to care for my body like I care for my house.
At 53, I’m finally starting to relax.
Like, FOR REAL, Relax.
I can let survival mode go. I can let it all go.
There is no more “just in case.”
There is only right here, right now.
Bashar’s Five Laws:
1. You exist…you always have and you always will. (immortality of existence)
2. Everything is Here and Now (no past, no future)
3. The One is the All and the All are The One (consciousness)
4. What you put out is what you get back. (reality is a reflection)
5. Everything changes except for the first four Laws. (Change is the only constant).