Too often we blame will power, where will power is basically a short-lived contrivance.  When we force ourselves not to eat or have an adversarial relationship to food, we fail shortly thereafter.  We cannot wage an ongoing epic battle of the bulge, as will power is only a temporary fix job.  We must open ourselves to transforming our relationship with food so that we do not resist, fight, and binge.

For myself, I do not like overeating because it now makes me sick.  Eating refined sugars and other processed foods no longer give me joy, as they once did.  That does not mean I do not enjoy a dessert or some chocolate every now and then.  However, I do not crave it or desire it with eager desperation.  When we start to become more mindful in every arena in life, we become more mindful toward how we eat food.

In short, the author advocates that we consciously eat our food.  Today we tend to scarf it down in a blink (of which I am still a culprit but am learning to let that go).  We often live our lives in a multi-tasking mode with the Internet, the radio, the television, and various other distractions around us so that we do not mindfully even taste our food.  Chewing each bite 20 to 40 times not only allows one to savor the taste but it also allows us to mechanically break down the food and help with important enzymatic digestion of every morsel.

This week, be mindful of your food and be present with it as you eat, savoring the taste, the nutrition, the labor that went into its preparation, the gratitude of having it and turn off the mindless distractions that would otherwise invade our presence of mind with that food like the Internet and other invasions.

A story that captivated me in her book recounted the life of Martha Graham, the iconoloclastic dancer who ushered in a new way of seeing and performing dance.  Against all odds, she became a dancer:  she was told she was too old, too heavy, too ugly, and too short.  She said, “They thought I was good enough to be a teacher, but not a dancer.”  Dance was her reason for living, Duarte explains.  Driven by her burning desire for her art, she declared, “I did not choose to be a dancer.  I was chosen.”

Her stark, blunt, gestural dance stood antithetical to traditional romantic, flowing movements of European dance that dominated until that time.  Beating down the stereotypical chorus girl prototype, Graham was the brave, new woman who owned her own company and created a new expression.  In 1930, she debuted her haunting solo dance called Lamentation.  One of her first performances was in Brooklyn.  Immediately after the performance a woman came up to her and with tears thanked her for how much her dance meant to her.  Graham later found out that this woman had recently witnessed the death of her 9-year-old son who was struck by a truck in front of her and who had the incapacity to cry until that performance that gave her the vehicle and dignity to weep.  Graham insisted that if her dance could touch one person in the audience that it would be worth it.  She wanted her dances to be felt rather than understood.

I think her story is truly inspirational whether you love or hate modern dance.  It is a story of a person who passionately followed her heart against all tormenters and naysayers.  She pursued her art and wanted that art to speak to whoever was willing to listen and be receptive to it.  I think we all can learn a valuable lesson when we hear the stifling looks of others who believe we are not worthy to pursue what we want in life because we do not meet whatever criterion or standard that the public has set for us.  We can all follow our heart more than our minds and work to achieve greatness through our capacity to express ourselves and hopefully that expression will touch at least one other life.

Namaste,

Sam Lam

Wayne Dyer opens his book, The Shift, with a passage from Hasten Slowly, a recounting of Sir Laurens van der Post, who spent time with the Kalahari Bushmen:

The Bushmen in the Kalahari Desert talk about two “hungers.”
There is the Great Hunger and there is the Little Hunger.
The Little Hunger wants food for the belly;
but the Great Hunger,
the greatest hunger of all, is the hunger for meaning….

There’s ultimately only one thing that makes
human beings deeply and profoundly bitter,
and that is to have thrust upon them
a life without meaning.

How well are you satisfying both of your hungers?  What will you do today to make sure that you are doing something to satisfy your great hunger?

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on  the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck.

One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot 
was  perfect and always delivered a full portion
of water. 

At the end of the long walks from the stream to the 
house,  the cracked pot arrived only half  full.. 

For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman 
bringing home only one and a half pots of  water.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.    

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own 
imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half 
of what it had been made to do. 

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter 
failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the  
stream. 

I’m ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side 
causes water to leak out all the way back to your  
house.’ 

The old woman smiled, ‘Did you notice that there are 
flowers  on your side of the path, but not on the other
pot’s side?’ 

‘That’s because I have always known about your flaw, so 
I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and
every  day while we walk back, you water them. 

‘For two years I have been able to pick these 
beautiful  flowers to decorate the table. 

Without you being just the way you are, there would not 
be this beauty to grace the house. 

Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it’s the cracks 
and flaws we each have  that make our lives together so
very interesting and rewarding. 

You’ve just got to take each person for what they are 
and look for the good in them.

First I was dying to finish high-school and start college. Then I was dying to finish college and start working. Next, I was dying for my children to grow old enough for school, so I could return to work. Finally, I was dying to retire. And now, I am dying   

I love this quote.  It helps us to remember that life is for the living.  We need to enjoy the ride and not worry so much about our destination because the destination is not that important, really.

The zen master replies, “I get them where they can’t ask any more questions.”

The point of this short story is not that we should not ask questions in life.  Instead it is that we ask so many questions because those questions reflect in us a lack of trust, belief, and calm.  We need to know more and more and more, but we are never satisfied.  We need answers to our questions, but we don’t wait for the answers because those answers are not enough to make us happy.  When we explore whatever opportunities that exist in front of us we are tied down by the what, what ifs, why nots, etc. that we can’t think straight. When we get to a point of calm and peace, the questions magically disappear.

Many times we think we need to intimidate someone who is intimidating us.  Instead, we can save both of us when we not engage in the fight but remain at a higher plane of peace and tranquility.  That level of peace can radiate and change ourselves and all of those around us.  Lower your swords.

This story talks about how we tend to have preconceived notions of who people are based on title and rank.  However, when we open our eyes to humanity as humanity we can see the true talent, beauty, and profundity of each person no matter what we originally thought of that person only if we remain open enough to see it.