Doing Your Personal Best with a Little R&R

The truth of the matter is that it’s that time of the month, which means four things: all I want to do is eat, I'm extra tired, I have cramps, and I just want to be alone.  Women, you know what I'm talking about, and men, you probably do too. 

I have personally never minded the arrival of Aunt Flow and all her crazy quirks. Usually, I embrace them, try to find the time to get enough sleep (even if that means skipping a workout or two), and pull on the sweats as soon as I get the chance. Not typically a complainer, I’m grateful that I do get a period – a signal that my body is functioning properly – but this month I’m feeling particularly tired, edgy, and like I just want to swaddle myself in a big blanket, pop some M+Ms, and watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians all day long. Does that make you hate me? (Because it kind of makes me hate myself.)  Basically, this period thing is kind of an extra pain in the A this month.

Because what I want to want to be doing is curl up with a book on Buddhist philosophy that my friend recommended to me, wash my windows and floors, make a rhubarb crumble, and take a hike in the woods. I want to have the energy to do all of these things, but I have a feeling that none of them are likely to happen between now and Monday, and you know what? I’m telling myself that’s okay, and I'm surprisingly not even feeling guilty about it.

I remember reading last year in The Four Agreements that you should “Always do your best.” In the book, Don Miguel Ruiz explained that doing your personal best is different at different times – sometimes you’ll have greater capacity, sometimes you’ll have less, but always do your personal best at that given moment.

I’m not sure if popping candy and watching the Kardashians is anyone’s personal best at any given time, but perhaps not feeling guilty about getting some extra R&R this weekend is practicing my personal best at the present time. That’s what I’m going to tell myself anyway.

Cooking Healthy without Sacrificing Taste.

Though I love cooking, I regret that I don't have or make the time to do it as often as I'd like.  Most of the time the meals I make are rather utilitarian - quick, healthy, light, and most of the time pretty boring.  (Read: egg whites and steamed broccoli; poached chicken breast and sweet potato; or steamed fish and salad.)  Most of my meals serve the purpose of being filling and providing fuel, without being too deliciously tempting. 

While this kind of cooking is not necessarily fun, it gets the job done and it keeps me healthy.  When I do cook for fun I like making indulgent meals: cheesy lasagna, meat pies, sole menieure, chicken and dumplings -- you know, comfort food with a gourmet flair.  After all, who doesn't love comfort food?  But the problem with cooking comfort food, even if I'm a big proponent in "everything in moderation" it's much harder for the cook to practice that, especially since she's the one who has to taste-test and serve and then eat the food she makes. 

Lately when I have been making non-utilitarian meals I've been experimenting making fun meals that are also healthy and lean.  Who knew that the two could be combined?  While having friends over for dinner on Saturday night, one of whom is a vegetarian, I faced the challenge by making a dish I've never made before (always a risk when company's coming over), but it turned out to be a hit.  For dinner I made shrimp and tomatoes over soft polenta and steamed green beans (a recipe from Martha Stewart).

And for dessert I made a rendition of a warm mocha pudding (I substituted extra chocolate for the espresso) I found in this month's issue of Cooking Light.  Also a hit.  Only problem was that I should've doubled the batch.

The meal was vegetarian, nutritious and protein-packed, and tasty, and with the exception of a little stress associated with the potential of it not having turned out the way that I had hoped, not too complicated.

So, while it's always fun to cook for friends especially on the weekend, trying out new recipes that have the side benefit of being nutritious and lean are a good reminder that healthy does not always have to be trite and routine, which is something I need to remind myself during the week.

The Beauty of a Bath

Doing nothing has always felt like sheer laziness to me.  And though I definitely enjoy doing nothing on occasion, I usually feel a little guilty about it.  Even if I have no plans, a scant to-do list, nothing to clean or cook, I usually try to find something to do.  But lately, I've had an ephipany -- that sometimes "doing nothing" allows you to replenish dwindling energy stores so that you can do the things you need to do, with care, focus, and enjoyment, even. 

Enter The Bath.  For as long as I don't know when -- months at least, I did not have a single planned nighttime commitment this week.  During one of the nights I ran a couple errands (for the record, they were legitimate ones) but during the other nights I just came home after work, made myself a light dinner, and relaxed by either doing yoga, toning, reading, or TAKING A BATH.
 
The Bath happened on Wednesday night.  I had it on my list; I declared it to my husband.  In other words, it was written in stone.  There was no escaping it, no last-minute excuses.  I came home from work, sifted through the mail, made myself a simple dinner of steamed vegetables and eggwhites (yes, I enjoy boring dinners like this most nights of the week), and prepared my bath. 

Do bathe as Jo Ann Kemmerling does, but lose the book.

There are a few steps that I've found to be most important when taking a grown-up bath by yourself:

1. Use epsom salts (at least a cupful, but ideally two).  They are the dream product for easing tension and loosening tight muscles.  If you're any kind of normal person with a job and life stressors, you're going to need this.  It's one of those things that makes taking a bath feel a little bit like a necessity, a trick that works for people who need to do something that has a benefit.
2. Do not allow yourself to listen to music.  This surprised me for I usually have music playing all the time -- when I workout, in my office, in the car, when I'm cooking or doing chores, etc.  Taking a bath forces your world to slow down and come to a hault, which is an incredibly beautiful experience; listening to your mind come to a hault is important, and music might dampen that from happening.
3. Do not exfoliate, shave, or wash during your bath. That's what showers are for, child!  Plus, who wants to be soaking around in your filth anyhow.  If you're dirty and need to get clean, shower first and bathe second. 
4. Do not read, write, or do anything other than float around and just be.  I don't know why, but every single time I take a bath (which is literally three times in the last six months -- that's a lot considering prior to that I had taken maybe 2 baths in a decade), with all good intentions I bring a book in with me.  I NEVER READ IT.  Beside the point that it's completely impractical with your hands drenched and pruny, all I wind up wanting to do is nothing, floating around, giddy to be in the moment, enjoying my body being completely submerged in 87+-degree water. 

A bath need not take hours or even an hour.  To get maximum relaxation benefit, I say you only need a half hour.  That's all it takes.  And if you're a non-bather, I will say -- THERE IS NOTHING MORE RELAXING THAN TAKING A BATH.  It is one of, if not, the most, underrated rituals in my world, and I assume yours as well.  Another bonus?  The benefits do not end when you step outside the bath, dripping wet and steaming hot.  You'll feel warm and languid, relaxed like you've had a couple drinks, and happy-happy.  Anything annoying that happened during the day will no longer matter and will not be a consideration in your current state.  You'll be in the present -- aware, but at complete ease with yourself and your world. 

Trust me -- I was a skeptic too, but now I'm a convert.  It might save your sanity, if your sanity needs to be saved.  And even if it doesn't, it will still work wonders.  Do yourself a favor, and add a bath to your weekly to-do list.

For the Introverts.

Someone posted this charming little graphic on 10 Steps to Care for Introverts on Facebook today, and I couldn't help but share it here.  While I can only speak for myself, I daresay that each one of these little steps is pretty much how most introverts want and need to be treated.  (Friends and family, take note.) 

Credit: Hamncheezer, Tumbler

The most filling breakfast ever.

I recently stumbled upon a recipe for a breakfast that turned out to be the most filling meal I've ever had.  I'm serious!  As someone who's pretty much always hungry, this breakfast kept me full for a solid four hours, which is saying a lot considering I could eat every hour if I could.  I didn't even think about food during that time.  Full of fiber, healthy fats, and B vitamins, this has become my new favorite breakfast.  It beats the chemical-laden Balance bar I usually eat during the weekdays, that's for sure.

Adapted from a recipe I found on this great blog I follow regularly, the recipe can be made the night before, which makes eating a healthy, nutrient-full breakfast even more convenient. 

Notice how the chia seeds and oats puff up? 

Here's the recipe:

OVERNIGHT OAT PARFAIT

• 1/4 C. Oat Bran
• 1/4 C. Old-Fashioned Oats
• 1 T. Chia Seeds
• 1/2 t. Cinnamon
• 1 t. Salt
• 1 packet Truvia (plant-based sweetener, Stevia)
• 1 C. Unsweetened Almond Milk (The original recipe says you can use replace part or all of the milk with water, but I like the creamy texture the milk emparts on the recipe.  Plus, at 40 calories per cup, you can't go wrong with almond milk.)

1. Combine dry ingredients. 
2. Add milk to mixture and blend well.
3. Cover and refrigerate for a couple hours or overnight.
4. Mix again before eating.

You can also add nuts or fruit to this recipe, which I haven't tried yet, but I'm sure it'd be delicious with either, particularly shredded almonds or fresh strawberries.

Bill Cunningham's New York: Just watch this documentary already

“He who seeks beauty will find it.” – Bill Cunningham, Fashion Photographer for the New York Times

This past Sunday I watched Bill Cunningham’s New York, a documentary 10 years in the making, directed by Richard Press.  I am going to do this documentary no justice by trying how to articulate how moving it was, about how carefully the film seemed to capture the essence of who Cunningham is – as a person, a photographer, a New Yorker, and an American icon. Please just watch it, for heaven’s sake. Even if you have no interest in fashion, New York, American culture, or documentaries, you will inevitably be moved by this film, because ultimately, the aforementioned subjects are not what the film is about. It is instead about an 80-something-year-old with the kind of soul you see in so few people; about a man who withholds the kind of rare combination of talent, focus, tenacity, and humility while all the while being sweet, kind, and funny.  More importantly, the film is about a gentleman who leads such a sparse, simplistic life despite living amongst a culture of indulgence and excess, and rather than judging that life of excess in order to separate himself from it, he basks in it like the most courteous of voyeurs merely through the lens of his point-and-shoot camera.

Cunningham's irony is striking because, while uber-passionate about fashion, he dons the same uniform everyday: a basic blue coat, chinos, and a button-down or a suit if he has to attend an event. For dozens of years, he lived in a one-room apartment containing dozens of file cabinets, a couple outfits on wire hangers, and a twin-size mattress atop his filing cabinets.  Luckily, he had a communal bathroom down the hall.

Bill Cunningham is the ultimate ascetic -- a man who doesn’t have time for fancy fare and who hand patches the holes in his  poncho with electric tape. He has lived a solitary life despite being around people all the time, capturing urbanites in fashiony getup on the city streets.  When filmmaker Press asks if he had ever been in a romantic relationship and then baited about his sexual orientation, Cunningham responds that he has never having been in such a relationship. “I didn’t have time for relationships,” he says.

This fact alone demonstrates how unique his disposition on life is. Romantic love, desire, to be wanted seems to be such a basic, fundamental human need. I cannot imagine a life with that feeling, that impetus. And, I don't think that I'm alone in suggesting that most of us would feel less human if such a feeling or need didn’t exist, but just the same, I consider those who appear not to be controlled by that need to be in some ways more evolved than the rest of us.

Even though Cunningham leads such an ascetic life, he is remarkably courteous and good natured, calling the people around him “kids” and “lumberjacks.” Most illuminating about Cunningham is his lack of egocentrism for someone so talented, focused, and well respected in the fashion and journalistic community. In a world where egomaniacs rule – especially those who are deemed successful by society – I am always most touched by someone who is able to maintain a sense of humility in the face of great achievement. That can be no easy feat.

A particularly moving part of the film was when when Press asks, “Does religion play an important role in your life?” Cunningham hangs his head quietly, responding that religion has always been very important in his life. As someone who was raised Catholic (although I don’t practice religion now) I am always interested in how people of the world – you know, grownups with careers, fully shaped personalities and interests, and a working knowledge of science and society, can have such blind faith or perhaps, such a devotion to religion. And while I think spirituality is certainly a need for many of us, what is particularly intriguing is that someone as seemingly evolved and worldly as Cunningham – who, despite his entire sphere revolving amidst the avante garde fashion universe, admits to such consistently conservative religious practices. While much of it may have to do with his ascetic approach to life, and because he’s a product of his generation, it is nevertheless an interesting dichotomy.

I think the best documentaries tear away the layers of the onion piece by piece the way that Bill Cunningham’s New York did. Those are my favorite kinds.  Other personal favorites have been Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work and Capturing the Friedmans.  As these films reveal, much like in real life, no one is completely what they seem, even if they make every effort to share to the world that they are inside. Just the same, none of us are black and white.

Humble Review: The War of Art

I just read this phenomenal book called The War of Art , which I find myself recommending to anyone I know who has felt any kind of calling (be it mastering capoeira, penning your first novel, name the craft here: ___________). I first heard about it by way of this article I read about my girl crush, Esperanza Spalding . If she was moved by it, I knew I probably would be too.

So, while still in the midst of a certain nameless tome that was well-written but which was losing my interest, I stopped midway and picked up Steven Pressfield’s book. My only regret was that I purchased the Nook version (and while I have surprised myself in enjoying the convenience of an eReader), this is the kind of book I strongly recommend buying in hardcopy format, because if you’re like me, you’re going to want to dog-ear and highlight the bejesus out of it.  (Yes, I'm fully aware that I'm a pathetic sap who loves self-help books.)

While Pressfield’s main craft is novel writing (he has published numerous books, including, among others, The Legend of Bagger Vance), the overall theme of this particular book is to “overcome Resistance” in pursuit of “the unlived life within,” which is applicable to any sort of craft or pursuit. This thing called Resistance rises in the face of any kind of achievement we’re striving toward and it consistently and unabashedly tries to prevent us from working toward these goals. Pressfield says of the evil-force of Resistance, though, that it “is directly proportional to love. If you’re feeling massive Resistance, the good news is, it means there’s tremendous love there too. If you didn’t love the project that is terrifying you, you wouldn’t feel anything. The opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference.”

On a personal level, I was particularly struck by one passage where Pressfield talks about experiencing nervousness before embarking on one's craft. This happens to me pretty much every time I sit down to write, and I used to think: What the hell is wrong with me? I’m doing something I love here. Shouldn’t I feel drunken relaxed and swimming in confidence?  (I admire you if you're one of those people who is drunken relaxed and self-confident all the time -- but I can't relate.)  To my surprise, Pressfield says that such jitters are actually a good thing and that these feelings are normal. He writes:

                   The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is   

                   scared to death. . . . The more scared we are of a work or calling,  

                   the more sure we can be that we have to do it. . . . Fear doesn’t go

                   away.

                  The warrior and the artist live by the same code of necessity, which

                 dictates that the battle must be fought anew every day. . . . The more

                 you love your art/calling/enterprise, the more important its

                 accomplishment to the evolution of your soul, the more you will fear it

                 and the more Resistance you will experience facing it.

Now I no longer feel like such a freak. These feelings are normal, and they are clearly not a bad thing. When we’re participating in something we love so passionately, it can feel overwhelming and nervewracking, although hopefully not so much that it is paralyzing. Admittedly, as a Type A perfectionist, the pressure I feel to make things just so the first time around can sometimes paralyze me a bit.  While this is something I acknowledge and am continually working on, what I've learned is that with creative pursuits, in particular, the attainment of “perfection” can be better achieved through consistency, which is why you'll see that some of my blog posts seriously flawed and riddled with typos and misquotes. After all, being 110% is not what creativity is all about, right?

Another interesting aspect about Pressfield's approach to the craft is his emphasis on the importance of spirituality in relation to the craft.  Though he is not necessarily a religious man, he openly admits that he is a spiritual one, and writes about the necessity in calling upon such spiritual forces when embarking on your craft. I found this intriguing, because, while I don't "call upon spiritual forces" before I sit down to write, I have always believed that creative endeavors were synergistically spiritual. Spirituality is broad and open-ended, in that sense.

To get to the root of self, beyond the ego is, in essence a spiritual pursuit. Personally, I feel a sense of spiritual enlightenment when I’m writing, or practicing yoga, or taking a walk through the woods. In his book, Pressfield explains that in order to get beyond the ego and to the self, a recognition of – although not dwelling on – spiritual forces is important. Whether you are spiritual or not, I thought this was a point worth contemplating.

If you are like me, who simply likes to be inspired and to be given the opportunity to look at things from a different perspective, this short, 166-pager is more than worth a read.  And I would even venture to say -- corny as it sounds -- that the book might even be a life-changer. 

Image: Pinterest