Carrie explains it all perfectly, so without further ado, read her post here.
Smooth Move
Story time.
first of all, I understand now, that the bane of my existence, the thing that makes me feel the most disgusting and irritable, is when I have a full gut and no relief.
So knowing this about myself now, I decided to take some "smooth move" tea to usher things along. You see, the night before, I'd gone to dinner with friends and eaten a HUGE bowl of gluten free pasta, which still has the ability to stick to your insides, though GF. Well, the morning passes and all was quiet. My brain was still a bit foggy so I tried to drink lots of water before heading to improv class.
From thesixfifty.com
An hour into class the tea kicked in. Thing is, my nerves are already bad. Standing up in front of a class and having to just jump into a scene tickles my bowels already, so this extra "magical tea" stopped me dead in my tracks. No, I didn't go in my pants, but I nearly did.
Rushing to the rest room, I promised to myself I wouldn't drink that tea on an improv day again, and by golly, I would need to cool it with the pasta.
The rest of the class I probably escaped to the restroom 4 times (it's a 3 hour class), thankful that I wasn't sick, just that my body was ready to detox. And at the improv jam after class, as if from my digestion angels, the theme was "shitting one's pants". Thank you angels for reminding me what could have happened but did not, and for that I am grateful.
Yes, this story is a bit icktastic and goofy, but I have a serious thought after reminiscing. What we eat affects us so deeply. I look at friends and family, and everyone's experiences with foods that bother them, but some people might be chronically bothered and not even know it. They might be in pain, a dull pain, but have no idea that it doesn't need to be their normal.
From Constantweightloss.com
Did you know there are studies linking depression to diet? "Duh," you might say, but are we taking action with this information? It's a difficult thing to tackle, when food is so addictive and the processed stuff is more available than anything fresh, but it's the simplest, cheapest way to work with mental illness. Notice I did not say cure. But taking care of your body IS taking care of your mind, and it could change everything. It could be the cure you're looking for.
So I will be your poop angel today, reminding you there is much to be grateful for, and that there's also a divine call: Eat as close to the earth as you can, ditch the processed junk, and move our body. Your limbs and lobes will thank you for it.
From https://imgur.com/gallery/TboqB
Thanksgiving Vibes
Howdy friends. Happy almost Thanksiving, which is the holiday that grows on me more and more every year! This time around, I'm going to order vegan Thanksgiving dinner, because although I love cooking, I'm feeling like letting the holiday work for ME, instead of work for the holiday. Thank you Kelly for the idea What about you? Do you have major family plans? Major napping plans?
I started off this month with an education in our United States voting process. As a poll worker, I got to see the whole shindig come together. My favorite part was seeing neighbors recognize each other, and kids go ga ga over "I voted" stickers. They're like gold to them.
Then a sweet and talented friend sent along a gorgeous print to me last week. I love her style and I love spooky things, so this was extra delicious. Thank you Zhen!!
My desk is a bit all over the place as I try to stay grounded with personal projects (still working on the picture book ideas with agent!) and my client work. To help me remember, I purchased some goodies like oat flower essence for recognizing my "calling", and a journal with motivational quotes about being our gosh darn SELVES. They have added a lot to my morning. Just having a ritual in place to work on very specific things that need my attention makes all the difference.
I'm so grateful for the support of my friends, family, and clients, as well as for the opportunity to make art for a living and for pleasure. This life truly is precious, and I hope you go forward through this holiday season recognizing how special our time is with loved ones- heck! even with strangers. All we have are moments, pieces of time. Opportunities to appreciate being alive. Here's to mounds of this. Happy Thanksgiving and lots of love,
Annie
Henry's Message.
A tale for the ones who'd like to listen....
Thick fog lay over Walden pond, lazy and unwilling to break apart, no different than the thick clouds blanketing the sky. Few birds sang even though it was mid morning, but so everything was so grey that the animals were just starting to wake up. My parents and I walked along the side path that lead us from the Walden Swimming Resort building to Henry David Thoreau's cabin site, taking note of how picturesque Walden really was. Water like glass, almost no sound but nature's whispers.
School children had left educational signs along the path, showing what turns the Maple trees red, and why some trees stay green.
Strolling, listening, absorbing, we took our time.
Upon reaching the cabin site, we heard teenage voices in the distance. There wasn't much time before the old home would be over run by quick energy. We were slow, on the other hand, like him, and we took our time trying to feel what he felt. What Henry felt.
Large stones rose behind a brown sign, similar to those you see in national parks with the words carved deeply in sans serif white, which read: "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
Standing still, I breathed in truth and longing as I whispered the quote aloud to myself. We all want the woods, we all want the solitude. Or some are afraid of it, perhaps? I know I used to be. But setting foot on Thoreau's humble cabin site reinforced my own calling to simplify simplify simplify. What was I doing, running around all day checking off my "to-do" list? And for what? For some paycheck so that I could feel safe?
It's about what makes us feel truly safe. It's about that that. And I know this is not singular, we all need to feel safe.
I imagined Henry (I like to call him by his first name), building his cabin joyfully with a couple friends. I imagined him taking long walks around Walden to see his favorite trees, and maybe even planting some seeds along the way since the lumber lot had been well used at that point in time. I imagined him making soups and beans, and walking into town every week to see a friend or to buy a few supplies, like ink and paper. I imagined him self sufficient, spending hours taking care and preparing for weather, but also spending hours observing.
High schoolers appeared between the trees, jogging and scrambling toward us with their agenda to learn details of a man who they were most likely reading about in class. Did they understand his message? Did they feel the necessity of his solitude? They were chattering about text messaged and plans after school so I couldn't be sure.
My Mom and I started walking back along the same path, my father splitting from us and taking the 1.5 miles around the rest of the pond. If he didn't do this, he'd be dwelling in regret for days.
Mom and I walked in silence a bit and also shared thoughts about Walden pond. Sacred and soft, we shared a special time, just Mom and me.
I had not read Henry Thoreau's work before visiting Walden, but I'd heard his tale. I wanted to buy some of his books, so we headed to the gift shop and waited for my Dad while we perused trinkets. There was a video about Walden, well directed and quite moving, and some displays of Thoreau's journals and scientific findings so visitors could understand more about the ecology of Walden pond, just as Thoreau did. Oh how I want that deliberation. At least his writings I could take with me.
Leaving Walden, my parents and I drove back toward the main highway, knowing we caught a special glimpse into life beyond the potent layers of society: achievment, institutions, productivity. We saw into a young man's intention and presence, his strong will to moderate his life according to his soul's wishes. Walden gave him this opportunity, and in turn, he gave it to us.
Where is your Walden?
October
I am in Boston, touring the city and historical sites with my family, and of course, we had to walk around HARVARD. More on that later. After picking up the "independent" weekly student newspaper, and I came across a poem that captures fall and youth perfectly.
OCTOBER by Remedy Ryan
It's too early in the year to wear jackets so we rub each others shoulders as the wind whistles past a year older now we know where we are headed but we still whine about the long walk
You're hit with the saline smell as you push yourself into the crowd your hair sticking to strangers' skin a second ago you were shivering outside and niw yiu wonder why you are here until an old friend pulls you into her arms
Your feet start to move to the hum of the speakers it's the type of night that makes you believe in fate but also in chaos bodies banging together like wind chimes sporadically, beautifully, impatient.
More poems by Remedy here: https://www.harvardindependent.com/author/remedy-ryan/