If They Could See Us Now

"Boy, if our South African and Aussie families could see us now!" I say to M as I put on my zipper jacket and wrap a towel to warm my legs. It's gorgeously sunny; however the wind gusts and is cold.

We're stalwarts and soldier on. It's sunny and so we must, we will, enjoy the beach. M suffers with goose flesh but he wants a tan. He's not using his towel and so I grab it to doubly insulate my legs.

This isn't how you enjoy a beach in South Africa or Australia but this is Oregon and here, in the Pacific North West, we have had more than anyone's fair quota of grey cloudy days - we want sun. An hour turns into discomfort as I feel the cold wind settle into my lower back and start an ache in my kidneys.

"I'm ready when you are." I tempt M.
He bites willingly.

Once off the beach and out of the wind, we start to thaw. We set our chairs on the grass and sheltered from the wind, we're warm again.

When You Eat, Eat

Life should be savoured one day, one moment at a time. I need to be reminded of this as I often live life fast.

M has often commented that I stir the pots simmering on the stove fast. And that I dish up our dinner fast too. And I admit I like short prayers before dinner so that the food doesn't get cold. Left to myself, I eat fast and, if preoccupied with my thoughts, I chew even faster and taste nothing. It's not uncommon to see M motioning for me to slowdown.

We know that slowing down helps to replenish our energy levels but did you know that slowing down your eating does that too? How many times do you eat breakfast while you check your email, read the news or blow dry your hair? It's called multi-tasking isn't it? And doesn't it save time?

Actually, I've found that it revs my internal engine and sets a tone of rushing for the day.

Not only has adding protein and healthy fats to my breakfast and lunch (see The Road to Burn-Out May 2011) fuelled my energy levels but so has taking the time to sit down to eat, making an occasion of it.

I have learnt that when you eat, eat, don't multi-task - so no more eating lunch at my desk while I work. This helps me to savour my meal and, when I actually taste my food, my stomach signals satisfaction and satiety to my brain. This translates into energy levels - and weight loss or weight maintenance too because I am less likely to snack.

This is working for me - it will work for you too.

Not What We Live For

"Uh! Oh! Look," M says.
Across the water we see a billow of black smoke rise from the streets of Vancouver. We had already heard of an overturned car being set on fire after the Canucks lost the do-or-die final game against the Boston Bruins. And now, returning home from watching the game with friends, we see evidence of it.

It's just a hockey game - I heard again and again from reporters as M and I followed the coverage live on TV and watched the plumes of smoke rise above the city from our living room window. It's just a game, they said. Really? Is it really?

M and I gave up watching hockey in the regular season a few years back because we didn't care for the aggression in the game. Ah, but you like rugby, hockey fans would challenge us, that's a rough game. Yes it is, but rugby players are not encouraged to fight as part of the game or as entertainment for the crowds. Rugby does not have a code of ethics for fighting as hockey does. If you fight, it's stopped and you're sent to the cooler. There are no enforcers in rugby.

Yet, with Vancouver making the Playoffs, M and I decided to be Canuck about it, embrace hockey fever and support our team. For the first time in seventeen years, our team survived the Playoffs and got into the final against the Boston Bruins. And then we remembered why we don't like hockey. But it's a physical game, it's a game of intimidation, our ever patient friends coached us as we bemoaned the dirty tactics of the Boston Bullies. The Canucks just aren't physical enough was a common refrain.

Twenty seconds into game six, Canuck player Mason Raymond lay prostrate on the ice with his back broken after an unnecessary but legitimate crunch by a Boston player into the boards. And this bloodlust is sport? When the Canucks were losing game six, a Canuck commentator said if he was playing the game he would go scalping. Scalping - yes, that's a good description of NHL hockey.

Hockey is a great game of superb skating, speed and skill. When played in the Olympics, it is beautiful to behold like rugby never will be. Yet played in the NHL, the players are rioters on skates looking for the next opportunity to intimidate, to injure and to ignite with fists. We'll win by any means: we'll break the rules, fight after the whistle's gone, swear at our opponents and defy authority.

And so when it moves from the ice to the streets of Vancouver, why are we so surprised? What's good for our hockey heroes is good for us: we can ignite cars and garbage cans, beat up Bruin supporters on the street, throw flower pots and hurl obscenities at police officers. And when authorities tell us to disperse and go home, we can laugh at them, ignore them and hang around to watch the show.

After all isn't this entertainment?
Isn't this what we paid for?
Isn't this what we were told we live for?
Shame on us.

Roasted Garlic

Now, I know it isn't much - just cluster of garlic cloves, dribbled with olive oil, covered with foil and roasted in a muffin tin in the oven. Easy enough, right? Right. So why did it take me so long to do it?

Probably because when the recipe called for roasted garlic, I did two things. First, I said to myself, I don't know how to do that which also translates as, I can't do that. And, second, I said to myself, I'm too busy; I don't have the time. And, instead, I would mince fresh garlic.

And so, the other day, when I made the vegetable dish that calls for roasted garlic I stopped the two point rabbit trail my brain started to go down and said, instead, of course you can make this.

I googled 'roasted garlic' and followed the instructions. And indeed I could do this. Yes, it took a little longer but it was, oh, so satisfying. And now I keep cloves of roasted garlic in my fridge, ready to add to my cooking.

Part of my slowdown life strategy is to interrupt the busyness of cooking the same meals, the same way. The faster I rush through this, the sooner I'll get to that, and then I can rest. Or so I thought. But the busyness of life will never be done. And I found that I was in a constant state of rush trying to get through my bottomless to do list. I found that the more you run, the less you get done.

Now I know to take time out to do things that energise me and that includes trying something different in the kitchen - one of my de-stress zones. I'm learning that I get more done, the less I run.

Beautiful Beautiful Words

Words capture me and haunt me. They entice me and delight me. They inspire me and refresh me. And the words, 'Like sunlight burning at midnight', do all of that.

They are beautiful words from Francesca Battistelli's magnificent song, "Beautiful, Beautiful". Take a listen for yourself at http://www.francescamusic.com/content/beautiful-beautiful

I savour the words as I take the slowdown road of life. The melting of the words into my hurried heart remind me that God is making something beautiful out of every life that opens itself to Him.

And these words from her song are particularly powerful for me right now:
'I have come undone
But I have just begun
Changing by Your grace'

A Slower Road

After my blog, 'The Road to Burn-Out', I received an email from a friend which read:

"Brenda, I just read your blog, as I always do when I do payroll, as it’s right above my payroll calculator on my favourites list. I’ve been worried about you because you looked stressed the last couple of times we met. I hadn’t made the time to check up on you in our crazy life – shame on me."

I too know all about a crazy life and not checking in on my friends - guilty as charged. But with my renewed focus on a slowdown life, I'm hoping to change that. I read some wise words recently that said when we lie on our sick bed or on our death bed, it is not our colleagues or clients that will gather around us but our family and friends. Yet I consistently make my work more important than my friends and my family. Slowly, I'm changing that.

I received a caring and probing email from one of my brothers which came just days after my burn-out blog. It read: "Hi Sis, Wondering what’s up? You seem very quiet these days."

And quiet I have been, but the wrong kind of quiet: the withdrawn-don't-talk-to-me kind of quiet. Now I am practising the calm-restorative kind of quiet. And it is working. I want to write more blogs on the changes I have made so that one day, and there will be a one day, when I go off kilter again I can remind myself how to recalibrate. Life is a journey, a process, a continual discovery.

In the suppportive words of my sage friend, Morrie: "The journey of the heart and taking time to live in the moment is a precious gift. That’s why it is called a “present”. It was great to read your blog again."

It was great to write it.