Well then…that weight loss effort turned out as it usually does for me—I lost a good amount (20 pounds-ish) and since about mid-December have been eating nothing but crap and gaining it all back as quickly as I can. What’s right about this that I’m not getting?

The issue of weight loss is so muddled in my brain that it’s hard for me to write about. Pulling out just one thread of a thought is almost impossible because it’s inevitably knotted up with a dozen others. It’s like when my dogs meet another dog on a walk and the leashes get all tangled and then wrapped around me three times. If only my mind knot were as easy to untangle as leashes… Or is that the wrong approach? I’m such a “figure it out” kinda’ girl—and obviously that’s working for me, right?

The question I typically come back to is: “Wait, why am I doing this? For whom am I losing this weight?” As you might guess, I’m never losing it for myself simply because I desire to—I actually can’t conceive of that. Typically it’s something more like, “Well, once I lose weight I can buy cute clothes and then I can start going out in public and maybe even dating (subtext: “‘Cause why would anyone want to date me the way I look now?”). Intellectually I get that this is ridiculous on so many levels. A) I could go buy cute clothes now. B) I could start going out in public now. C) I could start dating now (there are people who like the curvy girls). My intellect, unfortunately, is not in charge of this issue.

And if the topic of weight loss has my mind tied up in knots, you should see what the concept of dating does to my mind! I’m the girl who falls for all her straight girlfriends if that gives you any clues. They have no interest in dating me. Weird, right? So last week I actually went out among lesbians. It went pretty well. I found a girl I’m magnetically attracted to (translation: “Erin, stay the f*ck away! Danger! Danger!”) and I had a hard time keeping my hands to myself. In just a few days (and an outdoor adventure that almost killed me), the dust has settled and it looks like I have a new friend. But at least she plays on my team, right? That’s progress, isn’t it?

Being with her that night reminded me of the way it feels when being with someone is just natural and not horribly awkward and torturous. It gave me hope.

So here’s to hope. And to more consistent blog posts.

The slow-carb diet of The 4-Hour Body is as simple as it gets: every meal consists basically of clean protein (meat or eggs), beans (lots of them), and veggies. My breakfast since starting the “protocol” has typically been one egg, black beans, salsa, and either spinach, asparagus, or broccoli. Though I’m fairly useless in the kitchen, really just for lack of effort, I am quite brilliant at making breakfast because of my stint as a short-order cook during college. My morning feast is quite quick to make thanks to canned beans and frozen veggies. One unexpected upshot to this new “look, Erin is in the kitchen making food” thing is that I’ve been adding veggies to my dogs’ meals and that makes me feel like a good mum (I’ve been watching a lot of British tele lately).

One of the book’s requirements of breakfast, however, is that it be eaten within an hour of waking up, and preferably within 30 minutes. This created a huge shift in my household routine. The well-established order had been that I would wake up when my dog Sofie woke me up. I would pee, don appropriate clothing for the weather, and then the dogs and I would head out for a long walk. Upon arriving home I would hop in the car and drive to my nearby McDonald’s to get a Sausage McMuffin, hashbrown, and a large Coke. (Yes, I realize what a huge confession this is. I realize my liberal arts college will now have to revoke my diploma and that any lesbians and animal rights activists who have ever associated with me will have to revoke all manner of friendship.) I used to eat a good hour and a half after waking up–not okay on this protocol.

Now I get up, pee, let the dogs out for a quick pee and sniff sniff, and I make my breakfast while feeding the dogs and cats. (I’m quite proud of this multitasking.) Then I take about 30 minutes to eat my breakfast (I’m the slowest eater ever!)–typically reading a book or looking at stuff on the interwebs. Then I take the dogs for a long walk. Big shift in routine, and the animals have all been quite gracious about it.

Now back to my old McDonald’s habit: I loved the salty of the hashbrown with the sweet of the soda. The ridiculous thing is that after a couple weeks of this, the “food” stopped tasting good–and yet I kept eating it because that’s the habit I’d formed. And McDonald’s is genius when it comes to understanding the power of habit. Twice a year (or so?) they give free small coffees away all day every day for a couple weeks. How brilliant is this? Although some people have the restraint to just order a small coffee, McDonald’s knows that most people will add on at least one item from the dollar menu (“What’s one dollar?” most people think). Get people to do that five mornings in a row and boom! That free coffee promotion pays for itself tenfold.

So why all this about McDonald’s? Because they take advantage of one of the important principles Tim Ferriss discusses in The 4-Hour Body: there is magic in the number 5. Doing anything five times (five meals, five workouts, five measurements) seems to be the point at which one becomes hooked on the behavior. Doing something a couple of times is just messing around, trying it out. Doing it five times? That’s the tipping point. The Nike+ team, using the experience of 1.2 million users, found that “at five runs, [runners have] gotten hooked on what their data tells them about themselves.” (The principle is based on the importance of logging data at least five times, but Tim expands it to include doing anything five times.)

This magic number five is part of Tim’s larger principle of Make it a Game. He talks about the importance of measuring things and that “measurement = motivation.”  The books says, “Seeing progress in changing numbers makes the repetitive fascinating and creates a positive feedback loop.” So what if I rely on measurements for motivation rather than self-discipline? Sounds much easier to me! I’m measuring inches every Monday and every two weeks I’ll have new photos taken. Logging data is motivating. Seeing progress in photos is motivating. Hell, I can see the progress in the mirror every day but how fun will it be to have pics that show the step-by-step changes?

What new behavior do you desire to implement? Do it five times and see if the magic of the number 5 works for you!

The methods I’m using to release weight come from the genius mad scientist named Timothy Ferriss. His book The 4-Hour Body turns most of what’s thought to be “known” about the body on its head. He refers to it as the “hacker’s guide to the human body” and everything he did was in answer to the question, “For all things physical, what are the tiniest changes that produce the biggest results?” How brilliant is that question?! This book is massive and packed with information: how to lose fat quickly, how to add muscle quickly (even if you’re someone who thinks it’s impossible for your body to be muscled), how to sleep only two hours and feel fully rested, how to produce 15-minute female orgasms, how to double sperm count…you name it, it’s in here.

I’m not planning to go into great detail here about the protocol for losing fat because that would be silly–go buy the book. It’s a great investment! If nothing else I hope it causes people to realize how much of what they’ve bought as truth is just a behemoth skyscraper of lies. For example, how real and solid do you think your body is? The more solid and real you think it is, the harder it will be for you to change it rapidly and with ease. About four years ago I lost 40 pounds in 2 months by converting to an all-raw diet. It was such a trip to see the weight just melt off. The housekeeper at work asked me one day if I had cancer–that’s how rapid the change was! (She could only conceive of such transformation being the result of disease.)

So what if changing our bodies can be really easy and really fun? That’s what I’m choosing!

The cool thing about transformation is that it can happen as quickly as we choose. In the spirit of quick, I’ve set the target of losing 40 pounds by the end of 2011. That’s a total of 11 weeks, which means I only need to release 3.64 pounds each week (and yes, this can be done in a healthy way).

The funniest part? I don’t actually own a scale. But I know that I generally have been hovering at about the 190-pound mark for the past year or so (I’m 5’6″). I’ll be measuring my progress with pictures every couple weeks and weekly measurements of biceps, waist, hips, and thighs. And just for sh*ts and giggles, I might even weigh myself on someone’s scale every once in a while.

“What?” you say, “You’re attempting to lose 40 pounds but aren’t even measuring your progress in pounds?” Yep, that’s what I’m saying. ‘Cause honestly, scales tell such a sad little story of nothing…and it sounds so dramatic to say I’m targeting a 40-lb weight loss (way more fun than, “I’m targeting x-number of inches” or “I’m targeting x-percentage of change”). And it’s fun to make it all just a little bit silly because really it all is.

It’s silly how much of life I’ve been avoiding by virtue of what I made it mean to be “fat.” An obvious example is that I’ve been avoiding sexual advances from anyone by burying my body in giant clothes that make me look homeless. I joke that I should start my own clothing line called “HomelessGrrl” and it’s only funny because it’s kinda’ true. As part of this body transformation journey, I will have a little bonfire celebration in which I burn some of the clothing staples that I am sick of wearing and that my friends are sick of seeing me wear. There will be lots of cheering and merriment. First to burn: a horrible-fitting pair of jeans and a green Oxford Crew sweatshirt that my ex graciously gifted to me when we split up (I had appropriated it years earlier). Prior to the burning I will slowly be creating a new wardrobe for myself, under the advisement of my particularly stylish and hot friends Joey and ‘Jina. I will also investigate this phenomenon called “makeup” and I will start actually wearing the jewelry I’ve been collecting over the years (I’ve always purchased jewelry with this future stylish self in mind).

So while the measurable thing (of sorts) is the weight loss, this transformation really goes way beyond that. Please stay tuned for more. Perhaps this teaser will help: in the first week I lost a total of 5.5 inches. I lost 1.5″ from my waist, 1.25″ from my hips, none from my arms, 1.25″ from left thigh, and 1.5″ from right thigh. How does it get better than that?! What else is possible?!

Last night was interesting to say the least.

I met my friend Joan in downtown Denver for a little dancing at the Appaloosa Grill. FUNKMA$TER, a favorite performer of Joan’s, was rocking the house. Here’s a brief description of his music (right off his Facebook page):

“FUNKMA$TER is a multi-instrumentalist. With drums, bass, keyboards, guitar, vocals, and a looping device called an Electrix Repeater, he is able to create layers of sound that will make you think you’re listening to an entire band. Embracing new technology while shying away from drum machines and pre-recorded samples, he is truly a One-Man-Band in the most modern, yet traditional sense of the term.”

He played a lot of classics that made me laugh with excitement, including “Regulate” by Nate Dogg and Warren G (this song has a SUPER special place in my heart–I shared so many good times with my college buddies dancing the night away to this and other such fantastic songs). “Regulators, mount up!” and “I can’t believe this happenin’ in my own town! If I had wings I would fly, let me contemplate…” (Haha! Love you, Emo!)

So Joan and I are dancing and having a good time and here he comes: a drunk 55-year-old businessman out for a night on the town. He continues to get more touchy and more invasive of the space around us the more he drinks. First I’m his target, then it’s Joan, then it’s Joan’s friend Julie, then it’s back to me and he’s explaining that really I’m the one. I’m the one who was the original “distraction” for him and I shouldn’t hold it against him that he was flirting with Joan and Julie. (Clearly he’s got me all figured out.) “You get it right? You get that you are what I desire to wake to up every morning?” Wow, he went there. So then I have the “back off, buddy” talk and literally push him to arms-length away from me and tell him to stay there. That lasts about 10 seconds and there he is again in my space, staling my air, breathing on me. Awesome.

I finally get to the point where I’m going to leave. I’m like, “Joan, I can’t deal with him.” She says, “You want me to talk to him?” “Yes!!” I say (knowing full well I’m being a chickenshit). So she talks to him and that accomplishes one thing: he leaves her alone. Awesome. Then he starts in about how Joan is controlling me. Haha! This is getting funnier and funnier in a “I’d rather be watching this on Seinfeld than actually experiencing it myself” sorta’ way. So now it’s to the point where I am literally mock jogging around the floor (to the beat, of course) keeping other people (aka Joan) between him and me as a physical barrier. All the while, the men sitting near the back of the room are watching what’s happening, wondering at what point I’m going to hit the dude or they’re going to have to step in.

My evasion tactics worked pretty well. My frequent trips to the restroom also came in quite handy, as did feeding the meter. The trump card I didn’t pull was  a little dose of kill energy. You know, the energy a mother would throw at someone who was threatening her child. Mama bear I-Will-Literally-Kill-You-If-You-Take-One-Step-Closer kinda’ energy. And why didn’t I do that? That’s precisely the question I asked myself upon waking this morning with the feeling of having been slimed. I allowed slimeage to occur because I put this DRUNK man’s feelings before my own desire to just have a great night of dancing. For whatever reason, I was valuing “being nice” over creating the night exactly as I desired it to be. How does it get any better than that?!

So I’ve been in question about this today (rather than resorting to the “Erin, you’re so stupid!” flagellation). Why did I choose to have 354% of the 1000% of the fun I could have chosen? What creation of BEING NICE was I using to validate drunk guy’s reality? What questions did I not ask that if I had asked would have created a different experience?

What was right about it? This one’s easy. Dude was a walking comedy routine. During his lecture about allowing Joan to control me, he says, “Yeah, like the Scientologists!” Seeing that I’m confused about how the neural connections in his brain got him there, he proceeds to tell me that they tried to get his wife, which led ultimately to the demise of his marriage. Wow, dancing to reggae and hearing about Scientology. Funny, right? And then he starts doing the drunk man wink. I’m sure you’ve seen it. When not inebriated, this is the guy who SUBTLY winks at you during the most inappropriate times thinking he’s creating connection and intimacy. When inebriated, however, it’s the most over-the-top effortful act of coordination to get just the one eye to wink. Just imagine his head over-tilted to the side, his mouth open really wide as a way to push that cheek up closer to the eye, and the over-repetition of the action, just in case I didn’t catch it the first five times. Truly, it was hysterical.

So maybe the night was just a different kind of fun than I’d left the house expecting. Maybe everything truly is the opposite of what it appears to be and maybe nothing is the opposite of what it appears to be. Either way, there will be more nights spent with Joan and FUNKMA$TER. And now, I’m off to sharpen my kill energy…and legally change the spelling of my last name to LAW$ON. It looks so much more money that way.

I have so much fun stuff up my sleeve I can barely handle it! I went for a walk with my friend Jules the other day and we were laughing the entire time thinking of the stupid sh*t we could do with a video camera.

Jules attempted to record me doing a guided movement (see second blog post) but my phone cut off after only one minute. The funniest part is that Jules had never seen me do guided movement, so when I started moving, a) she thought I was about to fall over, b) she almost lowered the phone and yelled out to me, and c) the phone beeped to indicate the end of recording. It was a momentary flurry of hilarity and helped me realize it would be a good idea to prepare the camera person for what’s about to happen (and that I require a better video camera than the one on my phone).

And then I thought, “What if instead of simply taking one video of me doing guided movement, I took video every day for a month and then strung it all together and played it in fast forward?” That sounds fun to me and will keep me motivated to do guided movement every day. I think it’ll be fun to see how my body changes over the month, how my energy flow changes, how my clothes change, how the weather changes around me, etc. And if it’s as fun as I think it might be, perhaps I’ll continue recording for the duration of this one-year challenge. What else is possible?

Another idea is to make a video series to be featured both on this blog and on YouTube. I don’t want to give anything away, but I can safely say that it will likely lead to my mother disowning me. Love you, Mom!

 

Remember Now

Remember when we used to play ALL day?

Play, yes I said play.

We’d bike through the neighborhood, with hands or without.

We’d sprint as fast as possible, just to feel the tickle of our body cutting through the air.

We ran everywhere, often yelling and being loud. We were so fantastically obnoxious—remember?

There was the throw-back net so that even if Ryan wasn’t around to play catch, we could still play catch.

And before the bike was the big wheel—we’d go as fast as we could and then pull on the handbreak just to hear the noise and leave the evidence of our speed as huge black marks on the concrete.

It was normal to be sweaty and we loved the way our hair slicked back and was so shiny and perfectly feathered.

Playing soccer was all about power and control. How good it felt to kick the ball so hard, run so fast, trap the ball in a dead stop under our foot. Basketball was about the finesse of the shot, the deep stance of defending, the dance of working with teammates.

And then time passed and you started buying everything reality had to sell. You almost gave me an ulcer the time you were out of work for one month and didn’t know how you’d pay the bills. Everything became serious and dark and the walls started closing in around us.

You started asking me to sit at a desk for long hours, running on stress and adrenaline. It became all about work and survival, while the baseball mitt and the soccer ball and the basketball all got put in the closet. Movement became exercise for the sake of keeping me look right by keeping me small. Then your food selections for us started to reflect your cardboard, drive-thru life. “Is it easy? Is it fast? Will it fill the ever-growing hole of unconsciousness [that you’d created me as]?” The worst part is that you stopped noticing eating, even as you were stuffing my gullet with crap. No wait, the really worst part is that you feel guilty for eating what you eat while you eat it—and so I’m filled with crap and guilt. “Please, Ma’am, may I have more?” Not!

What would it take to return to how we were when we were happy? When we played all the time? Moved all the time? And not because there was any point except that it was fun and we could and it made us laugh?

Remember laughter? That thing that happens anytime someone puts a ball or a bat or a frisbee in our hand? When you light up and start to show off for whoever will look? You always thought it was you showing off and you always made yourself wrong for it. But what if we were showing off our amazing relationship with each other? Our joy to be together? Our ability to finish each others’ sentences and speak in a language no one else understood?

When did we become the stereotypical unhappy married couple? The couple in which neither partner is capable of seeing the beauty of the other because of all the walls of judgment they have up against each other? When did you start to hate me and be embarrassed by me? All I’ve ever done is whatever you asked! Yet somehow we’re that married couple who should have divorced years ago…but instead sit through long dinners in hateful and devastating silence. We go to bed and don’t even say goodnight—we can’t roll away from each other fast enough.

Can we just love each other again and return to having fun? Will you please re-member who I really am—all of me, even the bits you judge as ugly or fat or “not what they used to be.” I forgive you for buying into all the lies…but now that you know it’s all lies, can we just get back to how things used to be? It didn’t matter then what anyone thought. Were we a boy or a girl? Who cared? We were happy. Can we please be that again? Will you please stop using me as a trash can and instead return me to the glory of being your best friend? In return, I’m happy to tell you everything I know. “Yes, choose that. No, not that. Turn here to avoid an accident up ahead! Call your friend, she needs some Erin love right now.”

Will you please forgive me for whatever I did that made you hate me so much? Can we please return to the space of joy? It’s not just for kids!! I’ll show you how if you’ll just take my hand and let me guide you, like I did when we were kids…

I completely adore you.

Love,

Your body

My relationship with my body certainly has its ups and downs. Literally. Those who’ve known me a long time have seen me in every state of body, from thin and buff to how I look right now.

Here’s a photo of me from high school, when I was super athletic (I’m on the left, #11):

Here’s a recent picture of me on a camping trip (I’m on the right), filthy from holding my little dog, Sofie:

Obviously these pictures don’t provide an apple-to-apple comparison (i.e., there’s nothing similar about the two photos except that I’m in each of them). I’d say there’s at least a 50-pound difference between the two photos. And, having said that, I’m not concerned as much about how much a scale says I weigh (I don’t even own a scale) as how I feel in my body.

Right now I’m incredibly self-conscious about my body. My uniform all summer has been giant shorts and giant T-shirts that are best for camping or working out; they certainly aren’t stylish or flattering on me. I feel like I just want to hide my body, and then I hang out with people who (from my point of view) have beautiful bodies and wear super cute clothes–which then throws me into feeling really, really awkward and super-duper unattractive (especially when I’m with them, but even when I’m not).

Okay, so regardless of whether you can relate to anything I’m saying, check in with how your body feels right now (because your body might be commiserating with my body). Just do a little scan and notice what you notice. I notice that I sorta’ feel like someone has been punching me in the stomach and I kinda’ want to vomit in my mouth a little (oh wait, I just did!). Awesome. Know what that is? That’s the way it feels to sit in TOTAL self-judgment. That’s me punching myself in the stomach. “How’s that working for me?” you ask. Yeah, not so good (wretch, wretch).

Part of my journey over the next year is going to be to form a totally new relationship with my body. I’ll start by pretending it’s a new friend I’m just meeting for the first time. I’ll ask lots of questions, especially ones like, “Body, what do you desire to look like? What do you require of me to get you there?”

Do you find it strange that I might talk to my body as if it’s separate of me? What if it’s both totally a part of me and totally not? What if I’m both in my body and my body is in me? What if I’m an infinite being with a body? And what if my body has a consciousness totally of its own and it can facilitate me through life by giving me amazingly accurate information–similar to how a cat’s whiskers function to give the cat information?

I like to think of myself and my body similar to how Phillip Pullman depicts the Daemon/human relationship in his trilogy, His Dark Materials (The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass). In this trilogy, one of the main characters is from a parallel dimension in which “the soul is physically manifested in the form of an animal called a dæmon. It has a separate identity from its respective human, despite being an integral part of the person (i.e. they are one entity, in two bodies).” I don’t mean to get too philosophical or tangential, but the way Lyra interacts with her dæmon is certainly one option for how I could interact with my body. What would it take for me to see my body as my teammate, my true life partner, my best friend?

And what if, just by getting out of judgment of my body, I would be giving it the room to become exactly what it desires to be? What if most of us have it all wrong about bodies when we think that we’ll get to our “ideal body” faster by judging it relentlessly? What sounds better to you–beating your body into submission with horrible thoughts and forced exercise or loving your body into its full potency by honoring it, loving it, and making it feel good? I’ve done a whole lot of the former for the last few years and that has not been working. I’m ready now to step into the latter option of loving on my body and treating it as well as I treat my animals. Stay tuned to see how I do that, and please, ask your body if it would like you to do the same for it!

How’s it working for you to not acknowledge your talents and abilities? Do you know that by not acknowledging them, you’re actually doing a disservice to everyone around you? And most importantly, do you know you’re doing a disservice to you?

I’m not talking about skills that one can go to school to cultivate. I’m talking about crazier sh*t that’s hard for your mind to wrap itself around. For example, this morning I was on my morning walk with my gorgeous pups, Radha and Sophia, and here comes a little gorgeous dog, no human in sight, all excited to play with my dogs and come home with me. He had no tags, no chip, and he’s not neutered. How many other people do you think saw this homeless dog and did nothing about it? How many people do you think tried to help this dog only to have him run away? Did I exert any effort to “help” him? No, he just knew that my little family would provide him with what he required, so he followed us.

It would have been easy to overlook this as just something random that happened–except that when I called Rebecca Blackbyrd, animal communicator and longtime friend, for a bit of advice about what to do with the little guy, I said, “Guess what I found this morning? A dog.” And she said, “Of course you did.” And that caused me to look back on the last few years and realize that this is quite a common occurrence, this attracting-of-lost-dogs thing.

In fact, just at the beginning of this summer my dog Sofie appeared to me at 11pm, two houses from mine, surrounded by a leash, skulk, or earth (how I love the internet for quick access to random knowledge!) of hungry foxes. Although it’s only an interesting point of view, I have fun imagining that she appeared out of thin air like the time-traveling husband in The Time Traveler’s Wife. She appeared and thought, “Seriously? I’m surrounded by an earth of foxes? Who writes this stuff? Oh wait, I see car lights, the concerned face of someone who’s going to save me. Perfect, I’ll act like I’m going to bite her face off and see how persistent she is. Oops, here comes some other lady with flashlights and a broom. What’s the broom for?! I’m outta’ here!” [Scene moves to backyard of neighbor’s house where Sofie is now backed into a corner by the lead fox.] “Oh good, this one is persistent. I’ll let her ward off the fox while I continue to play hard-to-get for three minutes. Okay, now, slowly I’ll put my head down and she’ll know she’s clear to pick me up. NASA, we have liftoff! She’s all mine–hook, line, and sinker! People are sooooo easy to manipulate!”

So I attract lost dogs. Great. What does one do with that ability? Luckily I don’t have to have an answer for that right now. I can simply acknowledge that perhaps there’s a talent and ability, a potency, something I’ve not been willing to acknowledge in the past that I’m now ready to acknowledge. I’ll ask lots of questions about it; not make it meaningful or significant, but just notice it and ask a few of my favorite questions: “How does it get any better?” “What else is possible?” and “Can this make me money?”

I joked on Facebook that perhaps I’m part of the universe’s doggie delivery system–friends put in orders for their pups and deliveries come through me. The cool “coincidence” in this case is that a couple of my friends have been in deep discussion about what type of dog to adopt and one of them was actually on the internet researching poodle mixes when she received my text with the picture of this poodle-mix saying, “Want this guy?” She came and got him later in the day and now he might very well have the loving home of his dreams! Here’s to the power of the universe to line things up so that “ask and you shall receive” happens easy-peasy-lemon-squeezily. And how much easier can we make the universe’s job by actually acknowledging the areas in our life (no matter how freakin’ random or bizarre) in which we might have strange abilities?

This morning while walking the pups I was asking lots of questions, one of which was, “What can I do today to nurture my body?” The answer I received was a flashback of a moment from yesterday when I listened to my body without even realizing that’s what I was doing. I had just given a healing session when I felt inspired to shake the energy out of my hands. Once I started, I couldn’t stop–shaking of the hands led to shaking of my entire body and it. felt. so. good.

What I was doing was a simplified version of a powerful practice called Guided Movement. I learned this from my meditation teacher, Geraldine Norris, who learned it from Mary White. It’s a full-body, heart-centered meditation and it’s as simple as it gets. I begin by bowing to the four directions and connecting to my heart space (I start in the East and go clockwise). Then I just allow my body to flow with the energy until the energy dissipates. I close with a bow of gratitude. Sometimes the experience is gentle and nurturing, sometimes I’m a whirling dervish, and other times I can’t seem to get my mind out of the way long enough to feel anything. And it’s all perfect. One side note is that this practice is all the more powerful when there are others in the room. It’s awesome either way, but in the company of friends it’s off the chart!

As soon as I can, I’ll post a video of me doing a round of Guided Movement so you can see what I’m describing.

This is a brilliant practice to do when you feel stuck or stagnant and could use a hit of energy. It’s also great when you feel like you’re holding onto something (energy, emotion, sensation, etc.) that it would serve you to let go of–it is very honoring of the body to allow it to release. And one great thing is that you don’t need to know what you’re releasing–this is not head-shrinking psychotherapy, this is life-enhancing energy flow! It’s also a great practice for healers to do in between clients to ensure there’s no holding onto of others’ stuff.

As for whether to have eyes open or closed, ultimately open is your best option. Seriously…it’ll keep you from running into walls, furniture, your pets, etc. It’s also said that eyes open allows for more energy flow. That could just be an interesting point of view, though, so play with it and see what you find. When I first started I did it with my eyes closed because, a) I was self-conscious of doing it in front of others, and b) I felt the sensation of the energy better with closed eyes. Now, though, I keep ’em open the entire time.

And one last warning: it’s best not to do this too close to bedtime. It might amp you up so much you can’t fall asleep.

This is a very powerful tool I’ve had on the shelf way too long. I’m pulling it out, dusting it off, and putting it to use to help shift my reality. Try it and let me know your experiences.