Darryl and the Turtle

So in light of recent events, I’ve decided to share something different this week… I guess sometimes you’ve got to work with what the world gives you.  And honestly, you’re not going to belieeeeve the Victoria Day I had.  Even though it doesn’t have anything to do with the body (or the Queen’s ‘diamond jubilee’ for that matter) I reckon one’s spiritual self can be pretty important when it comes to overall-wellness…. so.  Without getting too preachy on the matter, here’s a story.  “Darryl and the Turtle.”

Lately I’ve been struggling.  I say lately— but really it’s been ongoing for a few years now, with alternating periods of uncertainty and assuredness, despair and hope.  And guilt.  Guilt because there’s really so much to be grateful for; I lead a charmed life with many incredible opportunities and people in it… so I feel there’s no right to complain of this first-world-self-manifested-crisis. 

But yet— it’s all relative, right?  And being an artist is hard.

Anyway, I digress.  Lately it’s come to a bit of a head, which prompted some tough self-reflection and questions like “why did I move out here?  Do I still want to be an actor, anyway?  Do I need to make a serious change?  What if I don’t meet a partner to share this life with- am I ok with being alone?”  So I got down and dirty with the universe a few nights ago and did something that I admittedly haven’t for years… I prayed.   I hesitate to use the word; but even though it wasn’t “to” anyone in particular, and lacked any usual suspects like a sign of the cross or an Amen, somehow it still felt prayer-like.  Which made it difficult to start… how do you make it a formal talking-to, without an implied religion?  I didn’t want to light candles or anything, so opted to lie in bed and speak to the ceiling. Seemed acceptable for the time being. 

And it went a little something like this:
“Ok… universe.  I’m struggling right now.  Big time.  I know you probably get a lot of this—people only talking to you when they need something— but I feel like I’ve tried to lead the better part of this year with gratitude, and I’m still having a hard time.  So I want to ask a favor.  And I’m not asking for blessings, I’m not.  I am blessed, and know it.  But I’m confused, and beginning to feel very, very lost.  What I would like— is a sign.  A sign for love, and a sign for my career.  Do I change?  Come up with a different game plan? Do I continue along the path I’m on, or should I make a drastic shift?  I’m lonely and tired… and feel I could use a tiny bit of encouragement in the right direction.  I’m equally as open to either path right now, so any signal would just be swell.  Cool.  Thanks.”

And you know?  I woke up the next morning feeling a little lighter, so went ahead and did it again the next night, and the night after that.  And this is where things get a little oogie-boogie.  On the third night I had a dream that someone gave me a tiny baby turtle as a gift… a little toonie-sized reptile in my upturned palm.  But I dream a lot, so didn’t think anything of it and went about my business the following day.  Later at the gym a very cute paramedic asked me on a date, schwetty and all…. so that was neat.  (does this have anything to do with the story?  Not really.  I’m just stoked.) Then, on my ride home… I FOUND A TURTLE ON THE STREET.  Yes.  Just goin’ out for a Monday stroll was a pet-store turtle (specifically a red-eared slider, the same as my dream) moseying across the road.  I nearly hit it with my bike!  It seemed like everyone on the street had flung open their front doors to let the sun in that day, so I asked around to see if anyone had, erm, misplaced him—which was met with a few (understandable) chuckles of incredulity… I mean who ever hears of a turtle running away from home? 

So I took him home with me.  You think the story’s over, right? 

My home is in full-on construction mode right now.  Our bathroom has been torn apart, and walls are getting patched and re-molded, we have spices and bathroom supplies scattered willy-nilly all over the place.  This leads to a lot of strangers passing through, most of which have been pretty rad.  Anyway, while I was getting Turtle settled in some water—one of the contractors came through the kitchen and I called him over to check out the new little buddy.  To which he says “Wow- cool.  (Pause) Hey… are you religious?”  After a certain amount of uncomfortable bumbling and sweating he politely interrupted and said, “that’s ok… well I am.  Or, spiritual at least.  And, well— I don’t know— I was just wondering if maybe there’s something you might be trying to rush right now?”

“What?” I asked.  Not without a certain degree of WTF.

“Well, it’s just that turtles are symbols of patience, right?  Slow and steady wins the race.  So I’m just thinking that if there is something you’re trying to rush, maybe the world is trying to tell you to take it slow, and be patient.  You know?  Good things come, and need time to grow.  And you found that turtle.  I think the world's trying to talk to you.”

By this point I was full on crying into my coffee, and Darryl (the contractor) was making a slow backwards creep-dance towards the doorway.  But after I calmed down, took the time to pick my jaw up off the floor, and settled Turtle in his Tupperware bowl, I found Darryl again to thank him.  Does he know what a gift he gave me that day? As if #1 the dream, and #2 finding the thing wasn’t enough…. But the universe then gave a resounding *forehead slap*, shook it’s head and said “oh for god’s sa…. She still isn’t getting it.  Ok well hit her with a messenger then.”  Enter contractor. 

I know you can probably see signs in anything if you’re looking to find them…  and landmarks are everywhere if you just pay attention.  But if it comes down to me being the kind of person that sees a turtle for what it is- merely a turtle- or a person who can take a lesson of patience from it all… I choose the latter.  So ok— universe.  I’ll bite.  I’ll keep on keepin’ on, with gratitude and hopefulness, and as much joy as I can…with patience.  Maybe stick my head out of the ol’ shell every once and a while, and hope that whatever you have in store for me, is exactly where I need to be.  And oh, Thanks.

In the meantime, I’ve got a new task of finding a good home for spirit-turtle, while simultaneously keeping curious-kitty at bay.  Entertainment, abound.  And one more thing- my acupuncturist informed me that turtles are also symbols of fertility and blood.   All good things, right?? 

Part Three: Food and Body relations (of the non-sexy variety)

3) A conclusion…

…of sorts.  If you’ve read my last two posts, you’ll know I asked some close male friends about their relationships with a) their bodies and b) food.  My third and final installment looks at their responses to the last question c) what they think about the relationship between the two.  (I feel so science-y.  For the rest of this entry I’d like you to picture me at home in a white lab coat; swishing test tubes of snips, snails, and puppy dog tails.)

So what do you think about the food you consume, and how it translates into your physical well-being?  Seems like an obvious answer, but I’m learning that simple questions often result in the most interesting stories.  One friend commented that he thinks the two are “intimately and inextricably linked” and I’d have to agree there.  Since my cholesterol scare I’ve cut down on a lot of dairy-rich foods, which I know has translated directly into how my body feels and works.  I feel less sluggish and tired.  Just, cleaner— if that makes sense.  There are other, smaller food/body associations as well; like the caffeine headaches I get without a cuppa joe in the morning (a problem.  I’m aware) or the vivid dreams that come with eating cheese before bed. 

But when thinking about food, it seems to often translate into fuel.  I was given this story:

“When I was a kid they made an American version of "Speed Racer" that I watched because... well, it was on. The concept for the show is that this kid has a sweet car and he races it. There was an episode that I remember where the kid's coach had invented a type of super advanced fuel so the kid didn't have to refuel his car at all during races... the fuel was blue and solid and it came in a glass jar... I remember the image of the blue chunk of fuel...

So, let's pretend that my body is the kid's super awesome car and the Blue chunk of fuel is a well balanced diet... When my car isn't in a race it pretty much stays in the garage and when I take it out for a spin I just use cheap shitty gas. But when I'm in a race, like when I'm doing a show or have a string of auditions coming up I use the blue chunk of fuel so that I can win the race... You get what you put into it.”

I think this makes total sense.  But the trouble (in my case at least) is that more often than not life becomes busy, and I don’t “have the time” to use that blue chunk of fuel.  Instead, when I need nourishment the most, I rely on trailmix to get me through the day and then wonder why I feel rotten by the end of it.

However, here’s a strong argument for the alternative as well:

“I wish I could see the very simple black and white truth that food is fuel for your body. You eat bad food, you're giving your body bad fuel, your body creaks and cranks and slowly shuts down. But I can't acknowledge that because it means changing so much about myself. I could never have a whole bag of chips because I'm sad- if I lived the food is fuel connection, for instance. Honesty about my body and food would mean I'd have to really think about why I alternately exercise or don't, eat garbage food or don't, even watch porn and jerk off or don't. And I'm just not ready to question those parts of my life yet, while I can still get away with letting them slide.”

… which illustrates an important point.  Is the only positive means of fueling ourselves by eating our fruits and vegetables, while also avoiding anything high in refined sugar, dairy, hormones, or anything questionably “fun”?  Or can we instead say “…ok.  My car needs those fuggin’ Reese’s peanut butter cups to fuel my AWESOME sector for the day.  And you know what? I’m gonna keep it parked in the garage too— because it’s raining, and it’s cold, and I want to eat grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup…. and while I’m at it will someone just wrap up in a blanket and hold me please?!?”
I agree that good food (fuel) translates into generally feeling better— more often than not.  But I also won’t argue that a glass of Jameson and a piece of cheesecake can fill a certain void that a bag of organic carrots, just won’t.  Being honest about the times we’re eating out of emotions or boredom (or emotional boredom) is key. 

So to fuel, not to fuel.  Either way it seems to boil down—across the board— to the fact we love what we eat; I just wish that could translate more often into we love what who we are.   Sometimes people want to keep food and body as two very separate entities, like another friend who goes on to say “ … there isn't a huge relationship between the two for me. I mean I guess I view the body as "technology" which needs to be cared for. And food as sort of the "spiritual" or sustaining element of that.”

This resonates with me because even though taste is an immediate sensation, the benefits or downfalls we experience as a result of the food we eat— is something less perceivable.  Or less immediate at least… but even if you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there.  Maybe it’s not as clear as stubbing your toe and feeling pain, or having an orgasm to feel pleasure.  But what we eat directly translates into a physical and mental component, the way same anything we “consume” does: the news we watch, the books we read, and the conversations we surround ourselves with.  It’s more like building a muscle, really.  Take the Doctrine of Signatures…  something that not only recognizes the health benefits that result from consuming particular foods, but that those foods actually mirror body parts, as well.

Ok.  So now I feel the need to draw some sort of conclusion from all of this, except that every attempt I’ve made seems like copping out.  But if I were to try, I guess I would say, hey—blog readers— we’re all different; wouldn’t it be nice to get treated that way?  And not only different, but always-changing!  So be easy with yourself.  Understand that in order to hear, you have to listen.  Or, when in doubt, just take a page out of this dear one’s noggin… utterly succinct in saying “Connection between the two? I was skinnier when I didn’t eat anything, and pizza gives my heart burn.” Maybe all kinds of heartache (excuse me- burn) and body image have the potential to be boiled down to a starting point that simple.  Other times, a+b…. just equals banana. 

Either way, touche, friend.  Touche.

Part deux. Food.

2) On food relations:

Holy moses!  Who doesn’t like to talk about what they eat??  To continue with the theme of my last post, I asked The Boys what their relationship is with food.  These gents described their noshing habits through a wide scope of careful, mindful, delicate and loving, as well as one of reward and punishment.  I’m finding it near-impossible to condense their responses into an overriding statement, so instead of attempting that—here are a few of my personal faves. 

First:  “I love to cook with my girl. Cooking is a time where we can be together and be creative.”  I love this.  Because it’s a reminder that what we consume is so much more than simply fuel, while breaking down the oft-used stereotype that men see it exclusively as that.  Because it’s a reminder that food can simultaneously be an experience, and an expression.  Because it’s just SO DAMN SWEET.  And again with the creativity!  Whether it’s a huge thanksgiving dinner, late night pasta on the couch or early morning coffee at my parent’s table- when I think back on some of my favorite gatherings of loved ones it revolves around the kitchen.  And in the preparation of food for loved ones—with loved ones—there lies an unspoken ritual.  My grandma’s hands as she rolls out the lefse, to get them just so.  The caught, filleted walleye soaking in a stainless steel bowl at the lake.   The go-to meal my Dad makes when one of us needs warming, healing, or cheering up.  Somehow that one room seems to contain more memory, safety and warmth than an entire photo album of snapshots.  And the food that is made with so much love and care—is it possible that we can actually consume that positive energy, in a small way?  Exploring this idea through it’s opposite; the alternative has been argued as well… that by eating animals (ones that have been brutally butchered) we’re in turn absorbing that hurt and anger vicariously.  Sometimes, a song can say what my rambles can’t articulate:

Boogie Down Productions “Beef:

Let us begin now with the cow

The way it gets to your plate and how

The cow doesn't grow fast enough for man

So through his greed he makes a faster plan

He has drugs to make the cow grow quicker

Through the stress the cow gets sicker

Twenty-one different drugs are pumped

Into the cow in one big lump

So just before it dies, it cries

In the slaughterhouse full of germs and flies

Off with the head, they pack it, drain it, and cart it

And there it is, in your local supermarket

Red and bloody, a corpse, neatly packed

And you wonder about heart attacks?

Not to say that every meal should be a ceremony, but maybe there’s something to saying grace and showing respect for what we’re taking in.  And hey, having a small ritual of thanks doesn’t necessarily need a religious connotation… but often it does.  When I asked one friend what his relationship is with food, he answered “To remind myself of my relationship with God on a daily basis”.  This particular bud has a dietary restraint that is deeply rooted in his belief system, and goes on to say that it makes him take a moment before acting on impulse.  This generates mindfulness, and recognition that what we’re taking in effects us on a larger level than just a wicked hangover or a bit of bloating.  But for those of us without the benefit of a similar spiritual practice- I don't want to get overly precious here.  I need a fast sandwich and a coffee on the go as much as the next person… every morsel doesn’t need to be a ceremoniously loving, and revered act.  But.  There is value in knowing where our food comes from, and what it means to be cooking that food and putting it into our bodies. “You get what you put into it... Read the ingredients.” 

If anything else, I think a powerful and overriding theme here would be mindfulness.   Now stay with me, I’m going to briefly foray into some actor-y talk… but there’s a connection I promise you.  Recently I’ve attended some workshops that utilize techniques like relaxation and sensory to get into the scene study.  Sensory exercises are just what they sound like; they draw on a personal database of sights, scents, tastes, feelings and sounds to manifest a connection to the work.  For example—if your scene is set in a rainy park: how does the rain feel on your skin, what does it smell like, and what sound does the soggy grass make when you sloosh your foot into it?  (Sloosh: not a technical term… and yes, made up.  But ok, if this was a graphic novel and my cartoon-self was pulling a boot out of mud, it would go *thwuck*  yeah?) Because of this class I’ve started taking more time in my daily life to pay attention to sensory experiences… that of course includes taste.   So, when was the last time you really tasted your food?  I mean really—and not the expensive wine and steak dinner, either— because I don’t think it’s necessary to shell out crazy cash to somehow earn the right to savor what we eat. But on a smaller scale…  I mean can we talk about figs, people??  I’m pretty sure I had a small love-affair the other morning.

“I’m going to tell you why I’m skinny. I can’t find nourishment. I’m not talking about food now, which I think you guessed. I’m talking about the world. The world does not nourish me.  At least at the moment. Do you know what I’m talking about?” (“Let us go out into the Starry Night” by John Patrick Shanley). The reinvestigation of my senses has lead to a greater awareness, and gratefulness, for all the things that I find nourishing in my life: the food I eat, the people I love, and the world I tread.  I think we could all ask ourselves what those things are… sometimes it may simply be what tastes good, other times a somewhat bitter encounter of the truth. 

I think just being mindful of this is a great place to start.  And whether it’s acknowledged with a prayer or a high five, I plan to do a whole lot more of it surrounded by the people I love.

Josephine