My migraine is back (hello darkness my old friend) and it’s hard to wax poetic about the miraculous wonder of being an embodied soul. But I did want to check in about our habitude for March.

I’ve taken Jen B.’s advice and adopted a mantra for the month. Every time I eat or drink I say to myself “I love my body as I love a child.” It came to me after I realized I would never treat my children’s bodies the way I treat my own. I don’t always remember to say it, but I often do, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how often I am making good choices without even thinking about it. Sometimes at the end of the day I go over my food and movement for the day and recite my mantra over each memory. I’m learning a lot…I have a lot to learn.

Inspired by the book Intuitive Eating, I’ve also thrown away all my dieting stuff and given up dieting for good. My Weight Watcher’s point counters are tossed and my scale is deprived of batteries and lying in the back of my closet. I’m eating what I want when I want it, as along as I’m hungry. The first two weeks I worried about gaining more, but so far all my clothes fit the same and my favorite pair of jeans fear maybe feels a little looser.The hardest part is determining whether I’m hungry physically, or just emotionally, but I don’t think I’m falling off the wagon too often.

I’m still writing my morning letters to my body about three days a week. It’s been surprising to me how sympathetic I feel towards my body when I treat her (me) as a person and not as a mysterious, manipulative entity to be battled.

Mostly pleasingly, I’ve noticed a distinct decrease in the amount of negative self talk I do about my body. I have this huge mirror in our bathroom which makes seeing my body (me) as a whole every morning unavoidable. Sometimes, I even smile.

What’s your mantra this month?

Here we are again talking about how to break the stereotypical rotten-body-image thing that most American females are restricted by, and find a more shalom-like way to acknowledge, relate to, and treat our bodies.

None of us seem sure of how to get there, but that’s okay, I’m pretty good at stumbling around in the dark until we can light one candle.

Here’s my question for today, what are the absolute basic necessities for you as your body. I’m not talking about what you should be doing according to the latest Hollywood trainer or even according to your wholesome good-spirited naturopath. I’m talking about what you intuitively know to be bedrock-necessary for your body given who you are and how you are at this stage in your life.

Don’t know the answer? Do what Jen always tells me to do: get very quiet and be very brave and spend some time with your journal. Or if you are a kinetic learner, try taking a walk without your headphones. It will come to you. Your body – you – knows what you need.

I find I need to do this a couple of times a year, usually when I’ve let one of my bedrock needs fall out of my daily rhythm. Some of the things on my list remain the same, while others change with health, season, and age. I find that there are usually more than three and less than ten. If I get more than ten, I’ve drifted out of “bedrock” and into “preference” or “shoulds.” Here are mine for the present:

What I (as my Body) Need Right Now

Silence while working and driving.

Sleep from 10pm-7am.

Gentle exercise everyday.

To drink water after 3pm.

To honor my fullness and my hunger.

To knit and write every day – and consequently to ice my wrist every night.

What are yours?

In our ongoing habitude of body love, here’s a chance to help our homeless sisters take care of their bodies. It’s legitimate, it’s free, and it takes one minute.

Click here to do this:

“Women’s shelters in the U.S. go through thousands of tampons and pads monthly, and, while agencies generally assist with everyday necessities such as toilet paper, diapers, and clothing, this most basic need is often overlooked. You and I may take our monthly trips down the feminine care aisle for granted, but, for women in shelters, a box of tampons is five dollars they can’t spare. Here’s some good news: you can help us contribute to rectifying this situation by making a virtual donation below!
For each [free] virtual donation, Seventh Generation will send a pack of organic cotton tampons or chlorine-free pads to a shelter in your state.”

Thanks Seventh Generation (Who happens to make wonderful smelling lavendar detergent and softener, and earth-friendly citrus kitchen spray that doesn’t smell like a car air freshner.)

Take a look at this picture. Okay, ignored the permmed mullet for a minute and notice the size 5 body. This is me at about thirteen. I thought I was fat.

For as long as I can remember my body has been my enemy. It was what got me molested. (I can remember trying to wear shirts that buttoned to the neck to that the person who molested me wouldn’t be tempted by my developing breasts.) It was what made me attractive (or not) to boys. (I started dieting when I was 13 because I thought I should stay a size 3. Tiffany Frank figured out how many sit ups we’d have to do to burn off one of the chocolate caramel bars we were selling as a school fundraisers, and we’d eat them at break then all do sit ups in the empty classrooms.) It was what made me a hip, powerful woman — or not. (Hip, powerful girls played sports – girly old fashioned girls sucked at sports and were doomed to a life involving home ec.) I shoved it into pencil thin jeans, laying on the bed to zip them up; filled it with chocolate chip cookie dough binges when I was sad; and forced it to keep achieving and achieving by fueling it with diet coke through riduclous extracurricular activities and late night study sessions.

As I grew older, I became more sophisticated about how I talked about body image, and diet, and the insipid consumer culture that said happiness was a size 0 and plus size was a size 9. Still, my body was foreign to me – at best silent, and at worst a conspirator for my own unhappiness.

When my first child was stillborn, and my second delivery required an unplanned c-section and resulted in a child who lost weight and wouldn’t nurse, I became convinced – my body was out to get me. The separation between mind/spirit and body that had started as a necessity to survive the abuse had morphed into a permanent division that ruled a very large part of my world. The diagnosis of migraines as a chronic condition just confirmed my early assessment. The evidence was undeniable, my body was conspiring against me.

I am rarely happy with my body and I am appalled at how much time and creative mental energy I spend on this issue. Food is always on my mind. My weight is a near constant disappointment. I feel guilty all the time. I never go through a single day where I don’t feel bad about something I’ve eaten, some exercise I’ve not done or not done enough of, some item of clothing that I can’t wear. For instance, every day on my way to work I walk by this adorable boutique and think, “I can’t wear a single item in there.” They stop at size 9. It’s not a shop for petites or anything, it’s just a regular Seattle boutique. (I’m a size 12.) Or here’s another, today I lifted weights and walked on the treadmill, but I’m going about my day with this thought hovering over my head like a cartoon dialogue balloon: “Maybe I should have done yoga instead.” It’s mentally exhausting and embarrassingly ridiculous.

Last week, in yet another show about dieting, I heard Oprah say that she had wasted a large part of her 30’s worrying about food and weight. I’m thirty-seven. Only three years to go before I am undoubtedly, irrevocably ‘grown up.’ Will I still be carrying the neuroses of a thirteen year old? Will I still automatically convert calories into sit ups? Will I still waste precious minutes feeling guilty? Will my body remain my enemy?

I am so tired of being stuck in Jr. High.

A year or two after I was diagnosed with chronic daily migraines (status migranosis) a new friend, Christine Painter, recommended that I read Voice Lessons by Nancy Mairs and What Her Body Thought from Susan Griffith. Mairs taught me that I do not have a body. She writes, “I have a body. I am a body.” Griffith reminded me that “My story is immersed in my body.” (p. 7) This is not a gnostic exercise I cannot separate my “self” from my physical being. I am my body. If I hate my body, I hate myself. If I love my body, I love myself.

I am nearly 40 years old and I still do not understand this. “I am a body”. It’s is a thought that echoes with truth and memory. It shimmers like a mirage just out of reach. I’d like to get there. I’d like to understand. I’d like to bring my body back to myself. I’d like to be my body, and to love my bodyself as I love my motherself and my creativeself and my womanself.

That’s the habitude for the month, I think. Love your body. How shall we proceed?

Update: to find out how this experiement went, follow along by reading posts about body love in the Habitudes category!

On this, the last day of our February habitude I would like to extend a little love to my dear old Dad.

John Mee started working at Peterbilt Motors when he was in his early 20’s. It was his first white collar job, and his second job after high school. His first post-high school job was as a quality inspector at a factory that made cans. He could do his job in about 15 minutes out of every hour. The rest of the day was just wasted away. This was back in the 60s when some living in the San Francisco bay area could work a blue collar job and buy their first home. My parents first mortgage payment was $220 a month! When my mom’s job went sour, they decided she would quit working and he would get a better job. Time to move up.

Peterbilt started John out as a junior draftsman. Over the years he produced good-quality work, and steadily improved both his skills and positions. When I was in my later years of elementary school, my dad went back to college, working full-time and attending classes on nights and weekends. Some of his course work could be waived by writing long papers showing he had equivalent “real-life experience.” In order to complete his degree more quickly he wrote a number of these on one of the early versions of a home computer, the screen glowing with green letters late into the night. I remember the paper he wrote to fulfill his ‘art’ requirement was a history of stained glass — a hobby he did in his ‘free’ time. It is a matter of great pride to me that my mother graduated from college the same day I graduated from Jr. High and my father graduated from college the same year I graduated from high school. (1987)

Over the years my father has worked at a number of jobs in three different states — but they have all been with Peterbilt Motors or its parent company, Paccar. Today, on his 62nd birthday, John Mee retired from the company he had worked for his entire professional life.

My Dad at his 40th Wedding Anniversary vow renewal party with my brother Johnny (the third).

So Dad, on this your big day, I send out all my love to you. Thank you for doing the job that clothed and fed me, that got me the black terrier-poodle mix when I was seven and taught me to ski when I was 12. For drawing truck parts, first by hand, then by a room full of computer towers, and then on a laptop until I got to see the Grand Canyon, Old Faithful, Disneyland and every Redwood and beach in California. Thank you for the projects that bought me my first car (a white VW bug) and the second one after my sister totaled the first (a virtual tank — a ‘57 Ford Fairlane. Safe-T!) Thank you for putting up with good bosses (Hi Virgil!) and hard bosses (who shall remain nameless) until you got me a Summer job in the filing room via your influence, and a college degree via your earnings. Thank you, Dad, for all your years of dedication and service. Some will say it was to Peterbilt, but I know it was really to us.

All of my love,

Rachelle

P.s. I know my Dad will see this because he reads my blog everyday! I love you Dad!

Good Morning Body,

Rachelle

I’m not sure what all this is, but I think it might be a clue to next month’s habitude.

And so may this:

Intuitive Eating: A Revolutionary Program That Works

I’ll let you know….

A blessing today from my other life as the Urban Abbess. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Today I had to pick up Eden mid-day to go to the orthodontist. I was gearing up to be grumpy about leaving the studio mid-project, when I remember that it’s the very first day of the Free Love Give Away habitude. The anticipation of giving people little surprises every day for a month perked me right up! I immediately started scheming what today’s give away could be. (To read more Free Love Give Away Stories, click on the pink heart in the masthead above.)

After a long Apple vs. Microsoft debate, my hubby the Microserf gave me a Zune for Christmas. I immediately subscribe to the all-you-can-eat monthly service and downloaded approximately 5,300 songs. Last night I spent some precious free time shuffling songs around and creating killer playlists. Thankfully, my car has an mp3 jack built in, so I plugged in and started grooving. When I got to the school it dawned on me that a good Free Love Give Away would be to let Eden pick the music for our cross-town trek. This wasn’t too self-sacrificial as the girls have a pretty killer playlist just for them, and it has some sweet tunes like Better Together, quirky numbers like Stickshifts and Safteybelts, and even some hunkering-down-for-a-good-time riffs like Anything’s Possiblefrom drool-fest Jonny Lang.

Eden opted for none of these. She chose Lisa Loeb.

Now normally, Lisa Loeb would seem like a fine choice. I loved her in grad school and once sat close enough to touch her at a Vancouver concert – seats Kami had scored us by standing in line all day elbowing people out of the way and quite possibly promising the doorman something special if he opened up our side first. At the time my own Lisa Loeb devotion was so severe that Paul would only let Kami and I put on her Tails CD’s if we promised not to sing along. But Eden, well Eden has taken that devotion to a whole new level, listening to The Way It Really Is is on the kind of permanent repeated usually devoted only to preschool obsessions with The Wiggles. On top of this repeat issue is a small problem with the age-appropriateness of the lyrics. I’m just hoping that Eden isn’t picking up that the first song isn’t really about returning a red dress after wearing it once, but is really an extended metaphor for getting used in a dating relationship.

With self-discipline usually reserved for making myself get on the treadmill each morning, I scrolled through my 10,000 adult-bearable song offerings and found Lisa, offering her to Eden with a smile and cranking up the volume.

She sang all the way to the orthodontist.

Chalk on up for the joy of a Free Love Give Away!

P.s. In case anyone is in doubt of Eden’s older-soul tendency toward the melancholy, this is her favorite song. Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with Lisa’s kids album, Catch the Moon? Here a little sample of it here.

Okay everyone, are you ready to play?

This is your space to tell your daily (well, nearly daily) stories of your experience with the Free Love Give-Away, our Habitude Project for February. What did you try? How did it go? How is this little practice in transformation changing you or others? Do tell! Anytime you want to add a story or read a story, just click on the cute little heart up there, in the masthead (see it? my husband made it for me) and it will take you right back here to catch up.

If you need help getting ideas for how to spread a little love around you can order these, or read this post-and-comments, or try these ideas out with your kids.

Ooooo…I can’t wait!

It starts tomorrow! Are you so excited? You know what it reminds me of? Once, when I was ten or eleven, my family drove our camper to Southern California to go to Disneyland. We stayed at one of those KOA campgrounds with all the concrete and the nice showers. That night, if we climbed the ladder to the roof of the camper, we could see the fireworks exploding over Cinderella’s castle. We were delirious with anticipation. I feel sort of like that!

I’ve just printed up several sets of the collaged loved cards, and I’m going to be cutting, scoring and folding the night way. I always forget that making and spreading art always involves some project task that I really dislike. Assembling seems to be the big draw back for me lately. Thank goodness I have this on tape so my Hollywood crush can keep me company! (Even my kids refer to him as “Mommy’s little crush.”)

Congratulations to Bobbie, Meg, and Jamie for winning the Free Love Give-Away give away (wow, that’s a mouthful!). Oh, and special thanks to Melissa, who graciously gave her winnings up to the next gal. One act of free love already completed!

While you’re waiting for your order to arrive in the mail, here are some other lovely little ideas that will help spread a little love around….

Ten Free Love Give-Away Ideas

10. Scrape the ice off your neighbor’s windshield before you go to work.

9. Take a roll of scotch tape with you to the grocery store and stick coupons on the relevant boxes. (I stole this from Oprah years ago, but I still think it’s great. It would make my day if there was a dollar-off coupon on the Cracklin’ Oat Bran when I picked it up off the shelf!)

8. While you’re at the grocery store…make eye contact with your cashier, address them by name, and tell them thank you for helping you get through the tasks of your day.

7. Write your kid’s teacher a note – or better yet, remember the unsung school heroes: janitors, music teachers, reading specialists, the yard duty people, bus drivers and the lunch lady!

6. Bring your co-worker a cup of coffee from your local barista, or even just refill his/her mug when you head to the break room.

5. Put one of those crack-and-heat hand warmers in your mailbox for your letter carrier.

4. Brush your poor mangy dog.

3. Put that jar of coins you’ve been collecting in your cashier’s charity box.

2. Hold the elevator.

1. Where you’ve bee lurking, post a love note on someone’s blog. (Heather can use some counter-hate mail.)

Okay, ready? Drop and give me 5…..ideas in the comments below, that is…