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| December 2007 On my way back home from errands down-the-hill yesterday afternoon, four deer-a doe and three adolescent-looking young ones-were nonchalantly grazing the dry grasses at the side of the highway into Ojai. Cars passing them at 65 miles an hour fazed them not a bit. Later, on my twilight walk on the fire road, I came abreast of a quite young rattlesnake as it crossed the path. Other hikers coming from the direction I was heading had given me a heads-up. It's a courtesy all of us who use that trail give each other, especially about the young ones since, not yet having learned to manage their venom, their bites can be much more serious than those of adult rattlers. Still later, floating in my hot tub, I was regaled by the coyotes up in the hills above this end of town. They were into a raucous call and response that sounded like a tent revival. As I lay on my float watching the star-filled night sky, I felt so blessed: a city born and bred girl living her life where wild beings come so close. The view of our village from the fire road that early evening was filled with fall color: oranges, reds and burgundies have come to join the yellow and golds of last month. It's such a splendid time of year here: great puffy cumulus clouds, intense blue skies, golden afternoon light and our mini-riot of fall color. Of all the seasons here, I love this one the best. The garden still provides roses each week for all my altars. These late season ones are even more lush than those of this past summer. Bright yellow marigolds, white Shasta daisies, brilliant orange nasturtiums, deep blue Mexican sage and-these last two oddly out of synch with their usual season-purple bearded iris and creamy gardenias are flowering in the garden. (Someone suggested that the days of triple digit heat we had in late September might have confused them.) I'm still harvesting chards, kale, bok choy and the last of the cherry tomatoes just as the new plantings of spinach and red and green mustard start to produce. Time now for hot, spicy salads and delicious greens-soup. The last six weeks have been somewhat of a roller coaster ride. In mid October, just back from an exhausting and stressful visit with my family, I'd consulted an integrative medicine physician in town. For the past six months or more I'd been experiencing a change in my usual baseline energy level. Though I always seemed able to draw up the energy I'd need for any project I'd be involved with, I'd wake up most mornings without the crisp refreshed energy that had been my norm. Instead, I'd feel a bit dulled and droopy. It was quite different from the other energy changes I've noticed that seem clearly associated with my just getting older. With this, I had the nagging sense that there was something out of whack in my body even as I couldn't seem to sort out what it might be. An hour and forty-five minute interview about my life and my health led the physician to think that I might be in adrenal exhaustion with depressed serotonin levels. We went ahead with an adrenal hormone screening, a thyroid panel and, apropos of some long-standing digestive issues, a full gastrointestinal screening for parasites, bacteria, etc. As I told him the tale of my life this past year (late last September through this October) I saw, as did he, that my presumably stress-free, slow lane existence had actually been anything but that for quite some time. Moving through my life one step at a time, I hadn't before then toted up the lengthy list of stressors that had filled my year: An upheaval/rupture late last September in a 22 year friendship; a two week stint with my sister in early October caretaking my dad and also helping my aunt deal with a serious medical emergency while we were there; two highly agitated weeks in March-April with my stepsister and our parents as we wound up their life in Florida, moved them and began resettling them in a senior community in Maryland; my 16 year old kitty companion becoming desperately ill just as that whole move was in process, tending her for three months and then having to euthanize her in July the day before leaving for New York and a three day whirlwind/cast of thousands 91st birthday celebration for my dad; deep grieving and then the energy-intense (though heartening) upheaval of bringing two baby kitty siblings into my world; a four day road trip in August to co-facilitate a workshop (my first in more than a dozen years) with my oldest friend; an eight-day trip to Boston to be god-grandma with my godson's wife, three and a half year old daughter and four week old daughter (struggling with colic) while he was out of the country in mid-September; and, as a finale, an exhausting three day trip to my parents in Maryland involving another whirlwind cast of thousands as our DC area extended family gathered two days in a row for a celebratory dinner and also a brunch-a visit during which I found myself uncharacteristically having major sleep problems all three nights. The gut results came in the first week in November indicating a “slight” (2 on a scale of 5) infestation of Candida (yeast) in my intestinal tract but no evidence of parasites or significant bacteria. Ken's (the physician) recommendations were for probiotics to increase the good intestinal flora, an herbal compound (Phytostan) to kill off the existing yeast and a stringent anti-Candida diet to immediately stop feeding the yeast. Though the supplements were easy enough to imagine incorporating, the idea of the highly restricted diet was very problematic and daunting: no flours, no gluten, no fruit or fruit juices, no sugars of any sort, no vinegars, no fermented products (like any soy based sauces) nothing with alcohol in it, nothing with yeast or mold (no aged cheeses), no mushrooms, no yams, no sweet or other potatoes, no winter or summer squashes, no beans, nothing with corn or corn derivative products and some other no's I don't even remember. Ken's reaction to my saying how problematic the diet would be for me was a dismissive shrug and words indicating that essentially I had no choice but to go do it immediately. I shrugged in turn and said I'd have to see what worked for me. I left his office furious and frustrated. Though we as yet were missing the adrenal/hormone results, he was sure that my lowered energy was in some measure a result of the intestinal Candida. As a recovering compulsive eater/dieter with 30 years of having sworn off ever depriving myself of anything I wanted to eat, I couldn't begin imagine imposing all these restrictions on my food choices. I felt I'd rather live with my lowered energy levels than risk messing with my hard won balance with food. I was irritated with his cavalier attitude toward my resistance, with his dismissive matter-of-factness in the face of my concern about how I could deal with such constraints. I came home promising the scared ones inside me that I would never cut them off from their food, no matter what. I told everyone inside that it didn't matter what he said, we would only do what worked for us; that we could together look at what (if any) of the foods we might feel comfortable to let go of and we'd only do it piecemeal and slowly if at all. We walked around cussing him out for being so dumb and insensitive about the impact of such limitation on someone with a history of disordered eating. We grumbled and hissed for days while continuing with our usual unconstrained food choices as we waited for the rest of the test results. When they came almost a week later, they were quite unsettling. The adrenal tests revealed depressed serotonin levels, depressed DHEA (not that unusual given my age) and, shockingly sky-high cortisol (adrenal stress hormone) levels (like 102 instead of between 3 to 6 at mid-day). Ken's comment as he reported them to me was, “You've obviously figured out an unconventional way to balance your self and your life since with these numbers you should be feeling quite miserable and depressed not just noticing a dulling of your energy.” Addressing these out of balance hormones involved adding still more supplements to my routine: DHEA, 5-htp (a precursor to serotonin that the body then converts to it) and phosphatidylserine (that mitigates the negative actions of cortisol on the cells). Though I readily began this regime I was stunned, distressed and confused by the extent to which my body was registering levels of stress that I wasn't consciously aware of experiencing. I thought I'd try these correctives first to see where they brought me before giving the anti-Candida diet any further consideration. Ken's message was adamant, “You need to do the diet!” My response was to adamantly resist. But, I did begin researching both the Candida and cortisol issues for the next couple of days. I discovered that high cortisol levels opened the door to Candida proliferation while Candida proliferation was likely to be recognized by the body as a stressor, leading to increases in cortisol levels. Though my mind wrapped itself around this looping process, there was still no way I could see myself starting what felt like a deprivation diet. And, then, since it was time to begin my 10-day annual birthday retreat, I decided to give it all a rest for the duration. When I woke the first morning of my retreat, I felt pulled directly into the kitchen where I began filling several shopping bags with anything in my refrigerator, freezer and cupboards that contained any of the ingredients proscribed by the diet. I was completely surprised not only by what I was doing but as well by the zeal with which I was going at it. Almost everything that I usually eat had at least one of the offending ingredients. I left five shopping bags of food with a friend that I knew would give or find a home for all that was in them. A sixth bag was filled with almost $40 worth of bottled juices, and other unopened Trader Joe's items that were now off my program and needed to be returned. I felt oddly exhilarated by the process. It continued to engage me through the next several days as I repeatedly fine-tuned my larders, letting go of more and more of the on-the-borderline foods I'd left on the first go-rounds. It became an adventure, an enlivening challenge to figure out what and how to eat in this new world. I had not the slightest doubt that I would give my self permission to have any disallowed food if and when I felt I had to have it or feel deprived. I was astonished by this sudden and unexpected commitment to anti-Candida eating. It came not from any conscious decision by my mind but rather from some subterranean process in which the, at first fearful, inner selves of me had decided amongst themselves to see it as a healing rather than a depriving path. We've now been on this path for four weeks. For three days around Thanksgiving, we deviated in order to have our favorite cranberry-pineapple-orange-walnut relish and yam-pineapple bake. And, twice along the way we've had a couple of scotch shortbread cookies for which we had a very strong yen. For the time, we've chosen to follow a somewhat less restrictive version of the program that allows a small bit each day of lower glycemic fruit like apple or pear. So far the challenge of finding things that work to satisfy our tastes and hungers has been more fascinating than frustrating. And, it's been amazing to find that we can live quite happily without the high level of sugars of various sorts that were such an integral part of our otherwise quite healthy eating style. The other good news is that with the new regimen my energy is noticeably improving and returning to what had been my long-standing norm. I understand that it's usual to be on this anti-Candida for three to six months but I can imagine that some of the changes I've been making will become my normal way of eating even after that period. I know that when I go back to Ken to reassess, he and I will have to have a talk in which I hope to be able to educate him about not speaking only in factual absolutes to people who have emotional issues around food. I'm not sure how this all would have evolved if I hadn't been so absolutely dedicated to not forcing my inner selves to do anything for which they weren't ready or with which they weren't completely okay; or, if I hadn't been so dedicated to neither guilt-ing nor shaming them for their resistance in the face of medical facts. His naiveté in this domain notwithstanding, I'm grateful for Ken's astute diagnostic skills since they clarified for me what has been out of whack in my body. I carried into my retreat time the whole conundrum of my having high stress hormone/low serotonin levels without any conscious awareness of the extent of the stress I was under. In a wrenching and tearful beach walk on my birthday, I realized that, since the weeks of being with my parents during their move, my step mom has been acting very differently toward me. She's become reactive, argumentative, dismissive and critical in ways that are very reminiscent of how my biological mother responded to me. She's also begun to react to my efforts to help in much the same way my biological mother did- as if they were/are hostile acts. While in the moments along the way of it I seemed able to simply let it pass over me, as I walked I realized that my inner selves were being deeply triggered by all of those behaviors. I suspect the levels of stress in my body are reflecting the levels that must have been normal for me when I was, all those years ago, subject to similar treatment by my mother. It seemed reasonable to me to assume that re-stimulation of trauma resurrected the bodily response patterns that were my original reaction to the trauma. It was a very hard day, feeling all of what I hadn't felt as it had been happening both with my step mom and in many of the other stressful circumstances in which I'd been throughout the year. It was painful to realize that while I'd moved through these challenging times with a significant degree of grace and equanimity at the conscious level, the inner selves of me had been upset in ways I'd hadn't till then recognized. I spent time that day and several others just being with and feeling the feelings that had been underground. What made the birthday day even harder was that an old part me kept feeling like the day should be special, special in a happy way instead of the way it was being. For many years I've joyfully surrounded the anniversary of my birth with both repeating rituals and spontaneous ceremony. I've greedily and exuberantly gathered and toted up loving cards and phone messages on the day and through the days of my birthday retreat. None of that felt particularly inviting or meaningful this year. The me-of-the-moment was completely unconnected with any of what has been usual till now. To her, it all felt hokey, empty and pro forma. At the same time, the old me was confused about what it meant to let go of all of what had for so long mattered so much. I felt irritable, pushed and pulled, just wanting the so-called special day to be over so I could be back in the simple un-agenda-ed flow of my long stretch of retreat time. It was all so intense it made me literally sick to my stomach (I had to vomit three days in a row to relieve the overpowering gastric pain of excessive stomach acid and basically unassimilated food) and ungrounded (I tripped and fell two days in row, though without really hurting myself). Then, when the day of my birthday and the following one of Thanksgiving were over, the push-pull ended; I felt calm again, back into the middle of the juicy creative flow that had marked the first several days of my retreat. I didn't do my oracles for the year till sometime after the retreat time ended. I haven't yet written my traditional birthday journal entry. But, I did get the poem and the drawing for this year's Solstice/New Year's card. And, I did gather the inspirations-for-the-New-Year quotes and print them. And, I did begin to see and start to complete the large fiber mask I'd begun seven years ago on my 60th birthday (She Who Shelters the Sorrows of Women). And, I read and napped cuddling with kitties in front of the fire for endless hours, took several longish walks and hikes and had my first myofascial release massage (a very different sort of massage experience). So, this year's birthday retreat was an amazing mix of magical creativity and painful but magical challenges. It's all left me with more of me than I had before. The update on the book manuscript is that I heard from the editor at New World Library just after I wrote here last month. While she “found it compelling” and could “see how these stories appeal to women and how they help women heal.” The bottom line was that “Unfortunately, we didn't feel the approach translated that well into a book. The stories didn't seem specific enough to be effective, and we decided it would be a challenge to market the book effectively in a crowded and competitive bookstore environment.” When the email arrived I wasn't surprised, it essentially confirmed (after only three and a half months) what the agent took two years to finally be able to tell me. Still, I was both disappointed and irritated. I'm committed to seeing this project through and getting it into final shape for what I trust will be a beautifully done publish-on-demand edition. It does feel more appropriate to produce and market it in a personal, non-traditional way and having complete control over the process does have its appeal. Nonetheless, it will be a lot more for me to do and to enlist others to do (namely to review it the way an editor might to polish and tighten it further) at a time when I feel I don't yet have the energy for this next big go round. I know that when the year end-year beginning chores and busyness are over and my taxes are done, I'll find my way back for another cycle of editing. I have two definite and one possible other readers to edit and give input and I've been gathering referrals to publish-on-demand houses, book designers and free-lance book editors. I figure if all goes well, it should be born as a book by the time (if not before) I turn 70 (three years from now). Keep a good thought, will you? And, do have a gentle holiday season as well as a very nourishing New Year. For the text and drawing of this year's New Year's card, click on Nurturing Woman. And, here are the Inspirations for 2008 Quotes: Flowers unfold slowly and gently, bit by bit in the sunshine, and a soul, too, must never be pushed or driven, but unfolds in its own perfect timing to reveal its true wonder and beauty. The Findhorn Community Anyone who imagines that all fruits ripen at the same time as strawberries knows nothing about grapes. Paracelsus ...in the hourly making of myself no thought of Time to force, to squeeze the space I grow into. Alice Walker For the sake of speed, in the interest of not wasting time, we sacrifice the sensuous richness of the not-yet...Some of my most pleasurable moments have come when I allowed myself to sink into the feeling that something was taking place without...my conscious intervention. Noelle Oxenhandler In doing nothing, everything gets done. The Book of Runes Stand still! The trees ahead and the bushes beside you are not lost. Wherever you are is called here. David Waggoner Why do you want to shut out of your life any agitation, any pain, any melancholy, since you really do not know what these states are working upon you? ...If there is anything morbid in your processes, just remember that sickness is the means by which an organism frees itself of foreign matter; so one must just help it to be sick, to have its whole sickness and break out with it, for that is its progress. Rainer Maria Rilke You mustn't be frightened if a sadness rises in front of you. larger than any you've ever seen: if an anxiety like light and cloud shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Rainer Maria Rilke I could give you no advice but this: To go into yourself and to explore the depths where your life springs forth. Ranier Maria Rilke Willing to experience aloneness, I discover connection everywhere; Turning to face my fear, I meet the warrior who lives within; Opening to my loss, I gain the embrace of the universe; Surrendering into emptiness, I find fullness without end. Each condition I flee from pursues me, Each condition I welcome transforms me And becomes itself transformed Into its radiant jewel-like essence. I bow to the one who has made it so, Who has crafted this Master Game. To play it is purest delight; To honor its form-true devotion. Jennifer Welwood When inward tenderness finds the secret hurt, pain itself will crack the rock and Ah! let the soul emerge. Rumi Over the years I have learned that “cleaning up one's act” may be far less important than consecrating one's life. It may be possible to use everything... Without judgment, many things can be made holy. Rachel Naomi Remen There is really only one possible prayer: Give me to do everything I do in the day with a sense of the sacredness of life. May Sarton Prayer to the goddess of small things: May I be grateful for bits of beauty, scraps of magic and tiny signs of growth, May I believe that I have enough. Prayer to the goddess of slow things: May I be patient enough to trust in the waiting and to listen to my truest self, May I believe that I do enough. Prayer to the goddess of soft things: May I be gentle with myself as I shine and as I stumble, May I believe that I am enough. Melanie Langlois To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong. John Chilton Pearce The privilege of a lifetime is to be yourself. Joseph Campbell Let yourself be silently drawn by the strong pull of what you love. It will not lead you astray. Rumi To visit the Bulletin Board Archive Table of Contents Site Directory (for non-frames viewing)
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