Questions to boys. Part one.

Three Questions. 

What is your relationship with your body?  What is your relationship with food?  What (if anything) do you think about the connection between them?

I went to a few incredible gentlemen in my life for some answers; men from all walks of life, love and work.  My thinking was that it would be valuable to get a strong male perspective on body/food relationships, and was curious how it may differ from my own (more…womanly?) experience.  I considered a pretty gimmicky version of sharing this, ending with a dramatic reveal at the end that yes! These are men! *Sheepish sigh* Things didn’t quite work out that way.  Though I’m happy to say that many points rang true, there were also some that seemed as foreign to me as… well… having a penis.  So full disclosure—THIS IS BOY TALK.

(Oh, one more thing.  This entry started turning into a whopper, so I’m going to break up these questions over the next little while… stay tuned. ) 

1) On body relations.

When it came to their bodies, part of me feels that these bros were just happy someone was actually asking them to talk. In more than one instance, younger years provided resentment and a severe dislike, but later on (a sometimes grudging) respect.  Connection and disconnection were pretty big themes... and since everyone feels strongly one way or the other, I’d like to talk about that a little bit.

In light of body disconnection, one friend said, “except for obvious functions like hunger and bathroom stuff, I have no idea what my body is doing or what it's trying to tell me. Things will be going along fine and suddenly I'll suffer stiffness, soreness, bellyaches or scratchy throats, and then they will go away of their own accord. Plus, my body is tired when I wish it wasn't, and alert when I just want to sleep.” A good place to start… we think and desire one thing and our bodies— seemingly out of spite— do the opposite.   Another goes on to say “I'm fairly fanatical about taking care of myself and of my body (weird to separate them, but not inaccurate).” Nope, not inaccurate at all.

 In both of these experiences the disconnection seems to lie between the physical self, and mental perception.  We’re all just big ol’ brains floating atop vehicles.  The question “what is my body trying to tell me” should probably be asked a whole lot more, rather than “how can I take this away?” (in regard to symptoms). I recently went to a workshop called the ‘homeopathic approach to depression and anxiety’ and something we spoke about was the tendency for those suffering from depression, to often have digestion problems as well.  But there’s a separation in treatment; and usually the indigestion, acid reflux and dietary intolerances aren’t recognized as being products of another emotional/physical state.  Medication upon medication—to medicate the symptoms of the other medication!— are prescribed.  The self and the body are being treated as separate counterparts.  And since physical trauma can have an emotional impact on our lives (like those who suffer emotional stress after going though an accident) … can our mental well-being dictate our physical wellness, also?  Has my period disappeared because I’m emotionally closed off and, as one book told me, “rejecting my femininity?”  Ok ok.  Back to ‘em boys.

Connection is a whole other interesting bag o’ tricks.  What I found really, really awesome was that body connection—at least in this select group of experiences—seems intrinsically tied to creativity.  Dear one #3 says “I am a very physical person that likes to express myself physically - but find myself restraining this impulse quit a bit. My physicality is a part of my music, my writing, sports, friendship and everything I do. Mostly it’s a creative relationship. One that involves a lot of imagination.  When I was a kid - and still to this day I picture what my body can and can't do - and experiment with its limitations.”  Boom!  Imagination, creativity, expression- a relationship??  One thing I love about this is that everyone can understand being a child (having an active imagination), and having the physical freedoms that go along with that.  The go-to statement about being an artist is that we’re all entertaining an inner child; and allowing inhibitions to materialize through imagination and creation.   So when ignoring what our body needs, or wants—are we quashing an artistic or creative outlet because of that?  And then what happens to those impulses… where do they go?  I can relate to this through a series of running-and-biking epiphanies.  There’s been many times I’ve worked through a mental block, or had a “eureka” moment while doing something physical (and yes.  I wear a helmet.  On my bike I mean… not jogging.  That’d look just goofy.) Not to say everyone needs to run a marathon in order to be creative, but it sure seems to work for some folks.  Take a recent interview I heard with author Joëlle Anthony, and her creation of the treadmill desk. Extreme?  Maybe.   But I’m sure even those that aren’t in an artistic field of work can relate to needing to exercise that lil’ inner brat every now and then.

Connection can also manifest through control, by wanting to stay strong and able in order to accomplish anything at a moment’s notice.  Control is also ruled by self-perception… which as it turns out isn’t gender biased at all.  One friend spoke about the physical activities he practices, and the distinction that strength and muscle don’t necessarily mean the same thing:  “So I know that power does not come from muscle, and yet... I think that I see many people/characters around me that are at a high level of physically ability and I aspire to achieve the same, and yet I have a voice at the back of my head also saying "Oh who cares." So I am stuck between failure and acceptance in my perception of my own body. "Biggism" as a friend of mine had once said comes to mind.”  There’s a great distinction made here between the acceptance of one’s body, and acceptance of the (self-made) perception of it.  Further on this, whether you’re male or female, big, small or too-damn-perfect in every way; this acceptance translates into understanding that your body is always in flux, and always will be.  But what leapt out at me is the brilliant notion of “oh who cares”.  Wait… what? 

You mean this is a thing?  Maybe it's more a personal revelation than it is one as a female—but it’s never occurred to me that choosing to not obsess, could be a viable option.  Another friend says  “I have also been unhappy with my weight and body shape since I was a teenager, but I think I'm one of the lucky ones because I don't internalize it very much” and goes on to say “I don't feel as if I have any control over it. It's like if you have a crappy car or something, you go, "I hate this piece of shit car", but you drive it around because it's all you've got. But I think maybe that's a man thing. I don't feel pressure to change my body for someone else, and I'm content to be lazy about changing it for myself. I go, "Well my body sucks, but what's on tv?"

Now I know women get a bad rap for having poor body image and men alternatively are seen as being unaffected by this; and that’s not a parallel I’m trying to draw here because it’s just not true across the board.  However, an admission.  Speaking from a personal standpoint, the thought of having no control over my body translates into a perception of having no control over my life… and I find it impossible to not internalize this lack of power in a negative way.  It actually terrifies me, and I feel weak.  But whether it's letting go of a little control, or throwing the top down to take 'er for a spin in the country just because it feels good... I think we could all benefit from a little more self lovin' every now and then.    If I— and we—want to be the most inspired, creative, open and connected versions of ourselves; maybe we should start with strengthening the ol’ grey matter.   Take the method approach and work inside out, cultivating our thoughts and allowing the rest to follow. 

That’s all I’ve got.  So to conclude:  take it away Schoolhouse Rock, you said it best.

What's so great about being normal, anyway?

Last night was one of those great impromptu evenings that involved a whole lot of wine, and some really great conversation.  It was a kitchen-gathered meeting of minds where we discussed home, politics, cockroaches and love.   And I started to stew- somewhere between the definition of tannins and the future of the arts in Canada- between examining ourselves and what we’re looking for; what does the word Normal really mean?  In my bubble it seems like a given that all my well-spoken and connected buds condemn the ridiculousness of things like the Saskatchewan Film Tax Credit getting cut… and laugh (read: cry) that somehow there seems to be a rationale to support this move.  But I’d be kidding myself to think that others aren’t just as equally removed from my world, as I am from theirs.

I think most people are imbued with an awareness of “normalcy” right from the get-go, and it becomes just another word for the average, and the usual.  It’s what we grow up with and what we deem as being the set standard, to which everything from that point on (consciously or not) will be compared.  So what happens when there is a dramatic shift of our self-perceptions, or those of our surroundings?  What brings on these shifts, and more importantly how do we maintain a stable sense of self and awareness throughout?

Here’s an example.  I was looking through old photos one day and noticed a recurring theme in my snapshot-life a few years ago: I had no eyebrows.  Let me explain… I had eyebrows, but they were plucked so thin they were hardly visible.  I remember my partner at the time asking me once how often I plucked - and I told him hardly at all.  Just to pull the stray hairs, really. 
I had been doing it so long; my perception of this small personal norm had shifted.  What I told him wasn’t a deliberate lie, or even fib to protect my fragile ego: I knew it to be the truth.  But looking back at those photos actually frightened me because my perceived truth was so contrary to the actual truth.  I’d been doing it so long I no longer had an outside eye or barometer to my experience.

Throughout all of the appointments I’ve had with doctors and physicians to talk about my missing period, I’ve been met with one overriding and consistent theme: I am treated like a complete abnormal oddity.  A seemingly healthy woman in her mid-20’s should not have symptoms like these, and I’ve been met with many a raised eyebrow and look of bafflement at my condition (similar to my bout with high cholesterol… more on that in my entry on The Pill).   Sure, there were varying degrees of this response, but generally I left feeling like there was something intrinsically wrong with me.  And since I was already struggling with thoughts like this of my own cultivation; believe me I didn’t need a diagnosis to prove it.

But then- I began seeing an acupuncturist.  She actually talked to me and heard my concerns; examined my history, my sleep patterns and (yup) my tongue, then said with a clear smile and a complete assurance that I was a “classic case”.  I mean really, could I have that in writing, please???  What a relief to hear a reaction that didn’t include surprise and incredulity!  She said she would have me menstruating again (not fixed, or set right… and this change in rhetoric made a world of difference) in three months. 

Now I’m thinking about the bigger picture, and what this kind of patterned thinking does in a much larger context.  Getting stuck in ideals of what’s normal or “right” is a really dangerous place to be because it’s really just a hop, skip and a jump away from justifying narrow-mindedness.  It seems that normality has moved away from being a personal standard and has instead collected a whole slew of negative connotations to go with it, associations that seem to allow room for things like racism, bigotry and homophobia.  Anything outside of one’s personal experience has moved from being simply another choice, or another life- to something abnormal.   And what is “proper” male and female behavior, the “right” religion, the “healthiest” body-type, anyway?  It should be a personal experience and journey, instead of a collective one that’s set to a body-mass index chart.

The ideas of my norm are changing on a continued basis.  What I want out of my life, from my body, and in my relationships has swung a great deal from where I thought I would be in my late 20’s.  But this is not only ok, it is normal (my normal) in and of itself.   When I think of the people in my life l look up to the most, they are those who are always re-evaluating their situation and what works, striving to be as true to themselves as they can be.  Let me propose, as others have repeatedly in the past, that we commit to celebrating diversity instead of condemning it.  Instead of setting a bar to be reached, just leap- for the sake of leaping. I think it’s selling the world pretty short to think there’s only one type of (nuclear) family, one path to spirituality, or one road to your own personal brand of happiness. 

And just maybe, we could consider a slight change of rhetoric on our own parts too.  There might be a time and a place that could benefit from replacing the fight for equality, with a demand for diversity.  A beautiful, celebratory demand.  Because isn’t that what true acceptance is all about anyway?

Josephine

PS. 

If you’re interested in acupuncture, I’ve added a link to Six Degrees.  They’re really rad.