On Sacrifice and Suffering (Blog #902)

Mythology. There’s an idea in mythology that in order for something new to be born, something old must die. This is illustrated in the phoenix having to die before it could rise from the ashes, Jesus having to die before he could rise from the grave, and some poor pig having to die before you could eat breakfast. Simply put, death is required for life. (It’s gross, I know.) This is why so many biblical tales feature sacrifices.

Sacrifice. That’s what I’ve been thinking about today, the fact that the giving up of one thing is required for the receiving of another. Not that I’m suggesting you go out and purchase an altar. This is all symbolic, of course. For example, this week I started a rather strict diet that includes intermittent fasting, not eating for sixteen hours out of the day. This, indeed, is a sacrifice. I’m giving up sweets, breakfast, and midnight snacks. Honestly, it feels like a death, a violent one. There’s weeping of gnashing of teeth. But I want the new life that’s on the other side of this–feeling better, fitting into my pants again–so I’m willing to pay the price.

Everything comes with a price. In the television show Once Upon a Time, Rumpelstiltskin often said, “Magic comes with a price.” And whereas most people think of magic as all smoke and mirrors, something for television, I actually believe in it. Not like magic as in Harry Potter–Leviosa!–but magic as in–what else do you call the fact that there are stars in the sky or the fact that you were born here or the fact that certain people (or opportunities) show up in your life at exactly the right time? Do these things “just happen”? Sometimes, yes. There’s some amount of grace we all experience simply because we’re alive. But certain magic requires action on your part. Joesph Campbell said, “Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.” In other words, you have to do something–follow your bliss, and it’s harder than it sounds–if you want the magic doors to open. You have to sacrifice. You have to pay the price.

The price. This evening I watched the final episode in Caroline Myss’s Sacred Power. I can’t recommend this series enough. Granted, Caroline doesn’t pull any punches. It’s not always fun stuff to listen to. But it’s needed. Tonight’s episode presented the idea that the consequence of living a congruent life (in which your head–what you think–and your heart–what you feel–are aligned) is that your life is going to change. Caroline says, “[Congruence] changes your life because it changes the speed at which you understand things.” And whereas this sounds great if you say it fast, it’s not–because it means you have to grow up and do something about whatever it is you understand. (This takes balls.) For example, I once dated someone and knew–deep down–on our first date that we weren’t right for each other. But we dated for three years because I didn’t trust my gut, because–and here’s the kicker–I didn’t trust myself. Were there good times? Absolutely. But the price I paid for thinking one thing and feeling another (for my head and my heart being disconnected) was that when the relationship ended, I was shattered.

Congruence. Now, after years of therapy and a lot of practice, I trust myself more. This year I’ve gone on dates and known in my gut–this guy’s an alcoholic, this guy’s on drugs. I’ve met people and known immediately–they have terrible boundaries. And not that in every case I’ve walked away, but sometimes I have. At the very least, I’ve proceeded with my eyes wide open. Now, I’ll never be able to prove that I’ve saved myself a lot of heartache, drama, and suffering, but I’m convinced I have. This too is a form of sacrifice–giving up one’s emotional pain for, in some cases, a night at home alone.

Suffering. Unfortunately, sacrifice is often associated with suffering. The story of Christ on the cross probably has something to do with this. That being said, there’s a story in The Acts of John that Christ danced on his way to the cross. This means he willingly gave up (sacrificed) his life for the resurrection and all that came with it. He said, “Not my will, but yours.” This is how I think sacrifice is best approached. Open your arms. Let it go, Nancy. Does it suck to give up chocolate cake for breakfast, a date with a hot guy, or time with someone fun? Sure. But it sucks worse to damage your body, date a train wreck, and be friends with someone who isn’t really your friend at all. Said another say, you either pay now, or you pay even more later.

I suggest paying now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Healing requires letting go of that thing you can’t let go of.

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Things Can Turn on a Dime (Blog #901)

Okay. I’ve been on a diet for twenty-four hours and my thighs still rub together when I walk. What the actual hell? If only deciding to take care of yourself produced immediate results. Alas, this is not the instant gratification station. This is the work hard, be consistent, make good choices station. This is the chocolate cake makes your ass bigger not smaller channel. This is planet earth.

I know. I hate it too.

I’m grousing, but the changes I’ve made in the last twenty-four hours truly haven’t sucked. Last night before blogging I went to the grocery store for snacks, fruits, vegetables, and protein, then went to the gym with my dad after. “Are we going to do this every night?” he said.

“What about every other night?” I replied.

Every other night seems like a reasonable goal, one I could achieve instead of overachieve. What’s the saying? Set yourself up for success.

Today I’ve eaten three reasonable meals–no bread, no refined sugar, no alcohol. After each meal I felt full but not stuffed. What’s this feeling of non-expansion? I thought. In terms of exercise, this morning I mowed a lawn. Tonight I went for a twenty-minute walk. And whereas I used to think a walk didn’t count unless it was at least an hour and uphill all the way, tonight I thought, Twenty minutes is twenty minutes. I mean, I broke a sweat.

What’s nice about all the changes I’m making this week–and I admit they’re a bit “all at once”–is that none of them are new. Like, I’ve eaten mostly paleo before, I’ve been a gym rat before, and I’ve gone on walks before. This means that with little resistance I can slip into these routines like an old shoe. The part of my mind that loves carbs kicks up a bit of a fuss, of course, but most of me is like, Oh yeah, we know how to do this.

All this being said, the one thing I’m doing that I haven’t done before is intermittent fasting, which basically amounts to not eating between 8 PM and noon the next day. Eat however many meals you want (within reason) between noon and eight, but then zip your lips for sixteen hours. The idea (behind any type of fast) is that it not only gives your body a break (because digestion takes a lot of work), but it also allows your body to burn fat for fuel instead of all that pizza and ice cream you’ve been chunking down your throat. (Or is that just me?) Anyway, a friend of mine has been raving about it–they’ve lost fifteen pounds in the last six to eight weeks–so I figured, What the hell? I’ll give it a shot.

Now, I realize I’ve only been at this one day, but so far I like it. Sure, last night was rough. Two hours after having a smoothie at 7:30, I was starving. I went to bed hungry. Boo-hoo. But I told myself, If I’m starving in the morning, I’ll eat. Surely a little fast is better than no fast at all. But get this shit. When I woke up at nine this morning, I was fine. Not really hungry at all. So I skipped breakfast and went to work. Well, I had a cup of hot tea (non-caloric beverages are allowed.) Y’all, I mowed and weedeated in the hot sun for two hours and was fine. What’s more, I actually had an excess of energy (an excess of fat, boo-hoo). Now, was I READY to eat when the clock struck twelve? You bet your sweet bippy. But in my head I’d made it out to be this awful thing–I can’t eat for 16 hours, somebody get me a cross to hang on!–and yet it wasn’t awful at all. It simply wasn’t.

When I got home from mowing today I took my shoes off and banged them together to shake off the grass and dirt. As I did, I noticed a small rock–a large pebble–dislodged itself from the grooves in one of my shoes and landed in my parents’ flowerbed. And maybe this is weird, but I thought about that rock as if it were a teeny-tiny person. Like, it’d probably been hanging out in Fort Smith in my client’s driveway for years, and then all of a sudden got swooped up and transported to Van Buren. Just like that.

Along the same lines, get this. This evening I taught a dance lesson to a couple about to be married. The guy was born in another country, came to the United States, bounced around a bit, and finally met his fiancee up north. Then he got a job down here, and kind of like my shoe picked up that rock and brought it across the Arkansas River, he picked up his fiancee and brought her here too. Through a strange series of events, they ended up on my dance floor. After all these years, we finally met.

I really am astounded by this. How a rock or a person can hang out in one mental, emotional, or physical place and then–bam, like that–be transported to another. Is there work involved? Of course. There’s always work involved. In terms of bodily transformations, you gotta do shit. God’s not gonna strike you skinny. (Although, I guess, you could get one of those awful stomach viruses). In terms of personal growth, you gotta do shit. (My suggestion: see a therapist.) But my point is that at some point there’s a tipping point. (That’s a lot of points, I know.) This is why people say things can turn on a dime. Sooner or later, your hard work, your patience, pays off. Sooner or later, you see results.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Life is never just so. Honestly, it’s a big damn mess most of the time.

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