I M Perfect lady

Category: Examples of an Imperfect woman

  • Unravel

    In the past few months my teeth have been falling apart, broken teeth, fillings falling out and just this past Monday a root canal, all signs that my eating machine was breaking down.

    At one point I had 6 teeth with issues, both sides of my mouth and top and bottom, which created new challenges in eating, I could no longer just eat, I had to be aware of what and how.

    How interesting that I became aware of this Pac Man like eating machine only when it broke.

    And it took 7 broken teeth to get my attention and one root canal, but I am seeing it now. It slowed me down the only way it could by busting the Pac Man…the eating machine.

    When the eating machine was broken I saw my eating in slow motion.

    The frenzy pace was brought into focus…I became aware of how much I was unaware.

    How incredible is it that the Pac Man is the control center of eating instead of it being a team of mind, body and soul…this cavity of teeth and tongue is the ruler and the rest of me a victim of its poorly developed palate?

    Changing the palate to fit the fitness of my body is my latest adventure, to begin eating from the body and using the teeth instead of the teeth using me.

    I am sure in an uncontrollable environment, we control what we can, and eating uncontrollably gave us control, as well as the feeling of being satisfied in an unsatisfied world.

    What also linger at the fringes of my out of control eating are recollections of me being out alone with my father. I don’t recall anything but us eating alone. I was young, I was special I was out on a date. Yet, knowing he is a pedophile, this isn’t a nice scene…however the food was normal or more normal than what happened before or after…was I bought by a malt, was that my price? Did my life become normal again with food? It is funny how I can’t recall the abuse, but I can recall the food and can picture the restaurants and booths and even the swirling stools…

    Each part of my world is complicated with abuse.

    How I used food to normalize or control myself is the mystery I will unravel.

  • Familiar isn’t Good.

    “Our own physical body possesses a wisdom which we who inhabit the body lack. We give it orders which make no sense.” ~Henry Miller

    I seem to have an eating person and then a person who sees the affects, but the two haven’t met.

    My eating person calls foods delicious and has cravings for sweets and she lives above my neck. She enjoys the tastes and eats as if the food will fall on the ground after she chews, paying no attention to the body underneath.

    My eating is similar to smoking without inhaling, or so my mind has me believing, but the mirror tells a different tale.

    What is so odd is the body that needs better eating is not in control of the eating and the eating mouth cares less about what happens after it tastes, chews and swallows.

    While some diets look at the food and other people are telling the person to exercise, what I am thinking needs to be changed is the mind.

    It is the town crier calling scrumptious bakery delicious, but who is it delicious for, A thought in the head?

    My thoughts about food and what is the reality of food is a world apart, not even in the same room.

    My awareness is never in both places at the same time, yet my head is attached to my body. My body is not welcome in the boardroom when decisions about it are made.

    It shocking to know that my head lies or fails to acknowledge how the words and food don’t match, that there is a huge contradiction going on.

    Yet my head is the first to complain as I stand in front of the mirror, Like it had nothing to do with the weight upon my thighs!

    It is insane, the one that is craving and eating is now berating or feeling disappointed in the body…when the body is simply a dumping ground or garbage bag for the head.

    I am right in the middle of calling its bluff, and trying to stop reacting to eating choices and instead bring the body to the table and eat for it and not for my head.

    It is a fickle head…for it slurps up food, burps and then turns on its self when it sees the affects, like the traitor it is.

    This lying eating head is the same head that wanted me to stay in bed and not do yoga; it is a part of myself that sucks the living out of me.

    Within my food palate are vestiges of dysfunction, camouflaged in pretty cakes and candy, the pretty sounding names and tastes I have become accustomed to, my way with food.

    My immature food palate will take time to adjust to eating food that the body can use for energy and nutrients instead of pleasing a childish mind set.

    I am finding it odd that I have a iron grip on my sweets and feel less without them in my mail jeep. I like knowing they are there. It is odd to have this ‘value’ in no value items.

    Like clinging to love that is really abuse.

    I am holding on to the food that is keeping me overweight and out of shape, tired and lazy…and pushing away the good.

    This is a repeating cycle in my wellness…holding on to what hurts me…fear of letting go of familiar even if familiar isn’t good.

  • Body, Mind and Soul

    It is a man’s own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways. ~Buddha

    What I find so interesting about eating, is we don’t eat what the body needs, we put items into it that do not work with the body, but actually against it.

    My backward eating habits reflect my old thoughts and beliefs and now I have to find new eating habits that match my new mindset.

    It is interesting that I use sweet treats as something that makes me feel good, yet the outcome has very little goodness IF any. I feel tired, dragged out, lethargic and my body is oversized from the useless calories I consume.

    There is a separation between how my tongue tastes the food and how it affects my body, like the two parts of me that don’t intersect.

    My head says its good and my mouth likes the taste, but once I swallow all hell breaks loose, my sweet treats wreak havoc once beyond my taste buds.

    The sweets are really saboteurs in disguise and I have programmed myself to discount the affects while enjoying the snack.

    The separation is critical in not linking the culprit and the feelings together, it is keeping the mind and body separated.

    Isn’t it incredible that the mind and body are not aware of each other, and instead of working together; they are fighting with each other, a civil war inside?

    Bikram speaks of bringing the mind back to the body for 20 seconds during each yoga pose. What yoga is teaching me is to pay attention to my body.

    When I eat I am not paying attention to my body, it is like my head is eating alone…until I swallow and then after my head has had its fun, my body then pays the price.

    It is so odd that we can ‘believe’ we are enjoying food that literally isn’t good for us. How is it possible to enjoy something that will cause us harm?

    What will it take to flip this around?

    I can’t seem to care while eating and enjoying the flavors that the affects after are not enjoyable.

    It seems like I am more addicted to the feelings afterward, that my natural state is to be sedative and unfeeling instead of feeling alive and alert and in touch with my feelings.

    We don’t even seem to have the feelings of being full or near full or tasting and appreciating the scents, the taste, the texture, let alone the incredible journey some food has taken to get from plant to table or even seed to plant.

    This is a new frontier for me to become more aware of what I eat, how I eat, when I eat and how I feel during and after eating and how it all impacts my body.

    It is time to stop eating as a head alone and eat with my body, mind and soul.

  • My expectation.

    There are two ways to live, one with your expectations packed and ready for each day and each encounter… leaving very little room for surprises or impromptu circumstances, a very rigid needy control expecting life to follow your lead.

    You have plans and life works much better when life falls into step behind you. You are the mover and the shaker and all need to bow to your expectations.

    Expectations are very selfish little things that steal freedom from others, one little need at a time. Especially if you throw a tantrum when they are not met, or spunk or sulk in silence.

    The odds of our expectations being met are slim to none, unless we have become a tyrant and have stolen the lives out of those we love making them march along with our expectations.

    The other way is to follow life without expecting a certain flow, without scripts written and people’s parts picked out, instead it is all improvised as you go.

    When I found my freedom within to say no to others expectations of me, I also have freed others to be free of mine.

    It wasn’t an easy won battle within me, but I simply became overjoyed with my newfound word…NO and the freedom it brought to me.

    I loved not having to meet expectations of others and in disappointing them I grew to like me more and more.

    Each time I find myself unhappy, I look and see where I am stuck, what am I saying or doing that is stealing my freedom and whose expectations am I catering to?

    You would be surprised how much of life is lived with an expectations floating out ahead of us, a little thought that becomes a giant storm.

    Mostly the landscape ahead of me is blank. I have no expectations planted out ahead of me.

    I can’t plan the weather so that is out.
    I don’t own others actions so I am free there.
    I can’t even know for sure if I will do what I plan for what I know for sure is that there are a million things that can waylay me along the way.

    Greeting each day and each moment without expectations allows you to have your hands free to carry what comes in.

    If you are standing there with an armload of expectations…how open are you to receive?

    I didn’t on my own get rid of expectations, but rather all my expectations were unmet and unrealized, so it was either suffer or drop them.

    I thought confusion and mayhem would erupt if I had no expectations and instead peace, love and joy grew inside of me.

    When I let go…I was free.

    I was free to receive what is.

    What is is enough for me, no matter what it is.

    My new expectation is to be a peace with what is.

    To have no more expectations above what is or beneath what is.

    What is, is my expectation.

  • Valley of Evil

    Reporting – is to tell about what happened: to give information about something that has happened, an account or statement describing in detail an event, situation, or the like, usually as the result of observation, inquiry, etc

    How well do you report your life? What is your observation deck, is it the mind or can you step back and witness the whole scene and see your part in the mix of the whole?
    Can you report from your inner view and share all the details, or do you gloss over the rough spots and expand on the lighter moments.

    Are you an in depth reporter and can you speak your own truths, do you even know your own details? Do you dare become an investigating reporter in your own life?

    It seems we are more comfortable in the valley between both truths, yours and mine.
    A place where life is lived on the thin surface, where feelings are not shown and reported, where no hard questions are asked or expected, where details are of weather, dress and food…the space where life isn’t happening.

    What I find so interesting is that the truths from both sides fly over this valley are heard but not believed, are seen but overlooked, are felt but quickly numbed, it is the place where truths are not held and they quickly are ignored.

    No one expects you to hold on to reality in the valley, it will ruin many a pretend relationship if you do so.

    The perceptions from here are very distorted and absent of truthful facts, a report that leaves out the most pertinent information for the goal of the valley is to be kind and loving…at all costs, even if means leaving reality behind.

    At times it seems that I am living in a dual world, where people speak a totally different language than I and that I can see and hear what others blatantly overlook, it is like I am a reporter of reality and they are reporters from the valley’s floor where they don’t hold on to facts as being real.

    My mother had said we have two perceptions and she was totally right, in her world truths were known but not held, they were looked at quickly but not dwelled upon, so life could return as quickly as possible back to ‘normal’.

    My perception is much different, I report differently, I see things and hear things that I do not disregard.

    The meaning of the word Perception.

    Perceptions -perceiving: the process of using the senses to acquire information about the surrounding environment or situation result of perceiving: the result of the process of perception impression: an attitude or understanding based on what is observed or thought.

    Interesting to know that perception comes from the process of using the senses.

    Using your senses…but what happens if you are detached and disconnected from your feelings, then what? What will you then use to guide your peceptions or how right on can they be?

    It is interesting to know that we all percieve the world based upon our connection to our own inner sense of self.

    The further from your self you are, the further off base is your perception. And to me, the more you disregard your truths, the further from self you go and the more off base are your perceptions and more you out of line with reality you go and deeper into the valley of pretend.

    I was a residence of this valley for 46 years while living in reality, I had no clue that my perceptions at that time were distorted, that they did not match reality, but instead fit perfectly with the image in my head.

    When the image in my head exploded it left me standing in the valley of pretend but aware…aware of how off my perceptions had been.

    I was aware of all the distortions, all the false images, it was like waking up in a nightmare, where all the good became evil and the evil good…where truths became my friends instead of my enemies.

    All the things that were kept hidden were revealed, to see the old sins resurface unharmed, truth flooded into the valley in my mind, there was no place to hide.
    I was flooded with awareness of how unaware I was.

    The view of the valley of looks very different standing on mountains of truth, it looked like the valley of evil.

  • Who is really fooled?

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    “Fools make a mock at sin”, reads a sign along my mail route, jutting out of a snow bank like a preachers hand, disrupting the beauty of winter’s wild natural and it left me wondering who is really the fooled?

  • Live in life.

    When I sort mail, I stand in a U shaped area (Case) with six rows of little slots, one slot for each mailbox all in order of my route.

    An apartment complex of 10 was added to the beginning of my route and I had to make room for it by moving every slot about 10 or so inches to the right, starting with the last one.

    It is surprising how small of a shift there was and how it threw my whole memorizing off, all my instincts of knowing are no more, I have to relearn it all again.

    I wonder how long it will take for my mind to become comfortable with this new routine? What an incredible mind that it can relearn and toss out the old obsolete info that it will follow if you are determined.

    My head actually hurt again from having to concentrate and do the hunt and search routine, and by the end of two and half hours it was already catching on.

    The name would appear and I would know which way to turn, it remembered to remember there was a new place to go to.

    The flexibility of the mind is similar to the body, it will follow your lead, and it is much more your desire to learn than its ability.

    You can become comfortable in a new routine, all it take is time and the willingness to try.

    In a week or so, I will be able to almost mindlessly toss mail, and it leads me to wonder, if you are not putting new things into your life, are you almost on Autopilot?

    What keeps you repeating the same things, being comfortable in the rote like life? How is it that we feel most at ease when we are mindlessly following our normal routine?

    It seems so counterintuitive to living to be on remote, just repeating and repeating, it is like we are stuck in a grove in an old Record Album, ‘same life, same life, same life.’

    Isn’t it odd that we call this living feeling the most comfortable with ‘No Change’.

    And can you actually call it living if there is no growth or change?

    Just as my mind was brought to the present with the slight changes in my case, I am sure that by doing new things in other areas of my life, my mind will awaken in the present and engage in a new way.

    Just as I do yoga for my body, I will have to bring my mind to new places to give it exercise too…I am open to the new possibilities.

    I guess it is up to us whether we coast along or look for new ways to live in life.

  • A field with no rules.

    Rewrite, Rewrite, Rewrite were the last words spoken in our final writing class for the year, they echoed and bounced around in my head, unsure if this was encouragement or a reprimand.

    We had just sat though an hour and a half of listening to the words the students had written. Words of emotion, of defeat, of growing up, of unique perspectives, of finding their way, and to me there was no need to rewrite a thing.

    They had given me pieces of their lives told with feelings and said out loud in fear or with great bravado, with pride and with youthful expression, to me it seemed they were perfectly perfect fitting into their life experience.

    Where they were in life fit perfectly in how they wrote. I am not sure rewriting is the answer, it seems that if you say, rewrite you are rejecting what they wrote.

    Rewrite, redo, and reword it…

    The juxtaposition between the enthusiastic teacher, her encouraging voice, and her caring eyes, and the words, Rewrite struck me with contradiction…like a smile with a slap.

    I then wondered how often I had done this, ‘rejecting the project’ while trying to teach technique.

    I began an Art Quilt group, and my intentions were to be with ladies who enjoy creating quilts without patterns, to let go of the ‘rules’ of quilting and just play with the fabrics and even mix metaphors and jumble up what those who came before us defined as perfect quilting.

    Rebels, daring to not follow the well-trodden path.

    When I began quilting, my Aunt told me that I could do anything I wanted, that I didn’t have to follow or adhere to any quilt rule or pattern, that quilting was making a sandwich, putting fabric batting fabric, and I was the creator.

    She taught me without teaching me rules.

    I wonder if you can do the same with writing, if you could just use the same writing instruments; words, paper, pencil and then allow writing to come what may.

    Let the writer go free, allow the writer to follow what feels right for him, to not make him bend and twist into a forgone conclusion of what writing needs to be.

    Whether it be writing, quilting or living life, we seem to neglect the person for the skill, toss out the personality, the Spirit, the essence in trying so hard to get to perfect.

    Maybe it isn’t the writing or the quilt or life but it’s getting to Perfect.

    Is there a way to teach without spoiling it with perfect?

    I guess what we all fear in life is not being able to measure up to perfect.

    I say, once again, kill perfect, declare it a swear word…

    Imperfect has to replace it; it will free so many from the fear of failing. Whether you are writing or creating art, if you let go of perfect you will set free in wide-open fields with unlimited possibilities.

    Lets all play in the field of pure potential as the wise masters say…a field with no rules.

  • New old natural way…

    I am strong enough to become weak and vulnerable.

    I am now open to receive instead of standing in defense, to look at life with an open chest instead of hunched over in protection.

    As I did yoga today, in the postures that required me to have my arms wide open and breathing deeply opening my chest, I visualized me receiving.

    Opening up like a flower bloom to welcome in the Sun.

    Receiving is something that I have forgotten to do for me, yet inside I feel the urge to receive.

    I am not sure what, for it is different than wanting or desiring, it is much easier… just being open and soft and welcoming.

    My hardness was for self-protection and as I discovered my voice, spoke my feelings and set up boundaries, my hardness began to soften and become supple.

    I was growing stronger and softer, exchanging old tired overworked defense muscles for the unused scrunched up receiving ones.

    In yoga I notice you have to relax one muscle and tense up the other, it is letting go and pulling, that in order to go deeper you relax one set and flex the other.

    Inside I feel strong enough to relax and grow soft, to weaken my hyper alertness for trouble and to heighten my awareness for joy and beauty, to be open to trust and love life in a new old natural way.

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  • Will not change the Art.

    Surely nothing has to listen to so many stupid remarks as a painting in a museum. ~Edmond & Jules de Goncourt

    How interesting to look at Art museums from the point of view of the works of Art and how it is to stand around listening to various remarks…

    Immediately I felt that we are all moving works of Art and the planet is the museum, and we all have our own commentary and perceptions of each other’s Art.

    How interesting that the Art can be defined by the viewer and how it changes as new viewers arrive.

    I also believe that we change as quickly each time we bump into new people and a new perspective.

    I love that I now have this metaphor and I will see myself as a work of Art moving around the planet. But what I love even more is the understanding of how different we see Art and what some find brilliantly incredible, others will pass right by.

    How cool that Art changes by the viewer… yet not at all.

    The Art stands unchanged yet changed depending upon the perception.

    I love that I am like Art, that some will understand and appreciate my contrasts and design, while others will make a cursory glance and walk on by.

    But what I love the most, my integrity lies within and remains unchanged by those who view me.

    Remarks, even stupid ones will not change the Art.

    (Is Art imitating life or life imitating Art?)

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