Eating to live healthily

Last week I began a new way in treating my body. I fasted on Monday and Tuesday so that I would be able to feel my stomach.

I've always been the kind of guy to eat everything on my plate, take seconds and then clean up whatever my wife couldn't finish. My problem is that I eat so quickly so I don't feel the food going into my stomach, and I don't recognise my stomach feeling full, until I've eaten so much that I'm "stuffed".

And really, what's the point of that?

Why not eat only what I need. The evidence is in front of me when I look the mirror. If I feed my body what it needs then it will respond with the right weight for my body.

The only link that has ever been made to living long is a low calorie diet.

Since leaving Australia I had gained just over 30 pounds, unfortunately not all muscle. The reason was simply that the food portions in Canada are larger than in Australia. So I had become accustomed to eating more on a regular basis, and slowly slowly my weight increased. The colder weather also meant I spent less time outdoors contributing to my reduced fitness.

So an adjustment was required. Even before last Monday I had begun to re-assess what I put in my mouth, and I can say that as of today my weight is down 18 pounds from its peak. It's all a matter of re-training the eye and the brain to be in sync with what the body really needs.

Does spiritual growth change who you are?

It's an interesting question. Everyone is at their own level of spiritual development in life, and life is about stages, and gradual changes. For me the last five years, but especially the last two have been a time of gradual change. I have already mentioned that it hasn't been a time of rapid movement through a life-changing moment.

It's an evolution. Reading books, listening to tapes, going to seminars and classes, speaking to people, and making new contacts with people who are going through or have gone through this journey of spiritual awakening.

But through all this I haven't changed. Well, I have changed, but not completely. Essentially I am still the same guy, the same husband, the same Dad. My sense of humour is the same, my interests by-and-large are still the same, and I still look, sound and act basically the same. If you didn't know me well, you wouldn't know anything had changed.

Sure, I'm taking better care of myself. I eat less, and drink less coffee and alcohol. I read books now related to the spiritual world, rather than on marketing and business. So some things have changed, but I haven't changed.

Life is about change. Life is by definition an evolution. It's when we don't change that we become old. Like an old fashion.

What's happening as I unlock my spiritual side is that I am bringing my higher self to a plane that is with me, rather than away from me. I'm joining my physical self with my spirtual self. I'm adding to what I've already got, not necessarily changing it.

People change and life goes on. Everyone is evolving in their own way, and we aren't all on the same path to enlightenment and happiness, and that's what makes this journey even more exciting.

What Started My Spiritual Awakening

Less that ten years ago if you had mentioned anything about paranormal activities, psychic behaviour, etc. I would have dismissed it all as mumbo jumbo.

Then I had the good fortune to have a boss who was psychic, and slowly I learned to open my eyes to more. Through her I started unravelling some of the unexplained mysteries in my mind.

I have since left that job, and live a world away in Calgary, following her advice that I needed to move. The past six years has been a slow, sometimes painful journey into my present state of mind, and I see that everything continues to evolve, and my ideas continue to change.

The first book I read that prompted the major shift in the past couple of years was "The Power of Now" by Eckhart Tolle. This answered so many questions for me, and my wife complains at how often I quote "Eckhart".

Where I find it difficult to see how much I've changed is because I never had a single life-changing event, or a major tragedy that caused me to re-focus my life and search for new meaning. For me, the journey to this point has been a gradual learning process, similar to an education - learning from people, getting new directions, and seeing new opportunities.

Perhaps the life-changing event is still to happen and I'm merely getting prepared for it!

Oprah, What class are YOU?

Oprah exposed an interesting aspect of American culture that isn't really well known around the world. The image one gets as an outsider is the The USA is the land of the free, the home of the brave and the place of opportunity. Just look at the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger, a boy who grew up in a poor Austrian town, has risen to greatness and is now governor of one of the USA's most high profile states.

But sadly, Oprah showed that Americans, and this is a fair representation of much of the western world, are more concerned about where they're at in life - what neighbourhood they live in, the job they hold, the brands they wear, the car they drive, how much they make, what sports their children play etc.

It was determined on the show that a person's "class" was defined by these superficial factors.

And Oprah, I was waiting for the punchline. But it didn't come.

The last third of the show should have been dedicated to what real "class" is.

Integrity... Honesty, Trustworthiness, Reliability, Selflessness.

Oprah leads us to believe that she is a more spiritual person than this show lets on. Why didn't she ask these people if they had true happiness in their lives? Isn't true happiness (the happiness that comes from within, not the happiness that's spelled B-M-W) what we're all looking for?

I'm no longer a huge fan of Oprah, and my opinion of her deteriorated when she lambasted James Frey, author of A Million Little Pieces, because she felt "embarrassed that she had been duped". Anyway, that's another rant!

The Funeral

[A Story of Fiction]

I’m not a big fan of funerals. Who is? I hate going to them really. It’s one thing to go to the funeral of someone who’s lived for 90 years and died peacefully in their sleep, because you know they had a good innings. But when you go to your high school friend’s funeral and you’re only 31, then it sucks big time.
I got the call last Friday. My buddy Jack had died of cancer. Cancer! He was 32. Who dies of cancer at 32? Skin cancer. He was a fake-and-bake guy. Shit that’s sad. “Jack died this morning.” Carly said to me. “He was brave at the end but couldn’t make it.” There was a silence and I didn’t know what to say. I thought of Carly’s kind face at the other end. “Anyway, the funeral’s on Thursday at 1pm at the Greaves Funeral Home. Do you think you’ll be able to make it?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
I put the phone down and covered my mouth and nose with both hands. My eyes wandered around looking for something bright to catch my eye. But all I found were the beige walls of my office. What the hell! Jack was in my group of buddies at high school, but we had gone separate ways and only saw each other a couple of times a year when the whole gang got together for poker or a night out. Geez. 32 and cancer. He’d been in for tests, and had a melanoma removed, but I never thought it would be that serious. It was just a friggin’ mole. He was a pretty fit guy. No cover boy, but still… he snowboarded and worked out a bit. Who dies of cancer at 32? Really? Am I missing something, or is 32 way too young to die? And it all happened so goddamn quickly. He cancelled on us for the last poker night because he wasn’t feeling well, but I didn’t think he would die. Shit I wish I’d kept in better contact with him now. You take for granted that we’ll all live forever when you’re in your 30s. He never even finished his degree.
The snow swirled around the white landscape that existed outside my slim office window. White and cold. I gazed out the window, but wasn’t inspired. Maybe a coffee would lift my spirits… at least my heart rate. I stood motionless in front of the open refrigerator looking at the containers with lunch and the ketchup, and the gallon of milk in the back. My eyes focused on the pink 2% label and I grabbed at the handle. I poured milk into my cup and then the hot coffee from the pot. I could smell it had been sitting for half an hour or so. The freshness had gone. But it was still caffeine.
I trudged back to my office, and caught my foot on the carpet, spilling a few drops. No one would notice a few extra brown flecks in a brown-flecked carpet.
I sat back at my beige desk, and glared at the beige wall in front of me. I lived in a world of beige. I don’t know what problem management has with colour. Who bloody dies at 32?
I opened Internet Explorer and Googled “Life Expectancy”. The top link was a government site and I clicked on it. Half way down the page I read:
Life expectancy: 77.6 years.
I stared at the screen, and the numbers glowed at me. I shut my eyes and the numbers 77.6 were imprinted on the back of my retinas. 77.6 years seemed a reasonable age to die at. I pulled out the calculator, and punched the keys with my middle finger. That would make my death day August 15th, 2052. 2052 is a long way off. I sipped at my coffee, and wiped away the damp ring from the desk.
2052. That still gives me time.

----- § -----


The air was stiff as it rushed into my nostrils. I hate winter. What a day to be buried. I pulled up into the church parking lot and made my way to the door.
“Thirty friggin two.” I mumbled under my breath, the cold air puffing in front of me.
I thought I was early, but as I opened the door and looked in the church was already three-quarters full. He must have had a lot of friends. Geez, I wonder how many would turn out for my funeral.
I looked for a familiar face but saw none. I guess I really didn’t know him that well after all. There had to be one of the gang around here… one of the poker buddies. Where’s Carly? Tall and blonde, she’d be easy to spot. Hmm. A lot of black hats. Not so easy. I wanted to call out some of my friends’ names and watch the faces turn towards me. I didn’t really want to sit next to someone I didn’t know. Not at a funeral.
For a moment I was lost. What do I do? Then I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Carly’s tired face.
“Hi.” The edges of my lips turned up the shadow of a smile.
“Hi.”
“Can I sit with you?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure I’d find someone here I knew.”
We sat down. We didn’t speak to each other. What do I say to Jack’s ex-girlfriend? Well, not the immediate ex. An ex from a few years ago. But they dated for two years. Anyway, it’s a little awkward.
I thought about Jack, and how he played poker. He only bet on good hands. He was the easiest guy to read at the table, and the easiest to bluff. But he was a good guy. Why didn’t I see him more often? What did he do when he wasn’t with his old school buddies? What did he do that he had so many friends? What am I doing? What am I doing?
There was a sudden noise from all sides. I looked up and a man dressed in black robes was tapping the microphone. That’s annoying. They should check the audio system before people arrive, not tap it in their ears! Carly grabbed my hand from my lap and squeezed it, pressing my knuckles together. I always liked Carly. She’s one of those girls who always makes you feel good.
The man at the front began to talk. I zoned out. I couldn’t help but think about Jack being only 32. I’ll be 32 in 10 months. If I only had a year to live what would I do? What would I be doing now? I’m not married. I don’t even have a girlfriend. At least I’ve got a house I’m paying off, but what’s the good of that if I die in a year?
I’ve always wanted to travel the world, or at least chunks of Europe. See the Ukraine and Scotland where my family came from; drive a Porsche; own a yacht; see the Pyramids in Egypt. God there’s so much to do! What am I doing? I’m rotting. I’m rotting at my crappy, beige job. My beige cell. I’m rotting in front of the television every night. I’m rotting at the pub. I’m rotting and getting fatter and slower and tireder. I need a new life. I need energy. I need hobbies. I need meaning! I need…
Carly squeezed my hand, “What are you whispering?” She turned to me.
“Oh. Sorry. I was thinking.”
“What were you thinking about?” She whispered back.
“My life.” I glanced over and looked into her glistening eyes.
The man in the black robes invited family members and a couple of friends to give their version of Jack’s life. Great guy. Loved the outdoors. Smart. Good looking. Never did wrong. Died a Saint. All the usual stuff. We’ll all miss him.
What are they going to say at my funeral? Had lots of dreams. Lots of good intentions. Wanted the world. Missed the boat. Missed the friggin’ boat! But we’ll all miss him just the same. My life is a bunch of bullshit. What am I contributing to the world other than methane and landfill? It’s time I started doing what I was put on this Earth to do. I can’t rot anymore! For my sake and the sake of mankind.

----- § -----

Everyone stood as the casket was carried out. Six men in dark suits. I recognized two of them. Everyone watched as it floated past them. Black hats fluttered. White tissues dabbed eyes and noses. The doors opened and the draught rushed into the church, wrapping itself around my ankles.
As people began to file out I edged into the aisle, with Carly still holding my hand. Nothing would ever happen between us, so it was okay that she held my hand. We walked towards the big wooden doors, shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Strangers brought together by a tragedy. But from every tragedy comes good.
I shuffled to the doors and felt the cold slap me in the face. It had to be minus thirty. I looked up and saw nothing but grey.

It was a great day to be alive.

[A Story of Fiction]

I met Michael

My eyes were closed but I could see him. He appeared to me like a sky-blue glow. And then he disappeared. He reappeared the next day as a band of sparkles across the night sky of my bedroom ceiling.
"Who are you?"
"I am Michael. Your spirit guide."
"What should I do?" I asked, hoping for clarity.
"Make phone calls."
Phone calls? What phone calls? "What else? What else should I be doing."
"Paint like there's no tomorrow."
"That makes sense at least."
"And what about my writing?"
"You should write after you've painted."
"Hmmm..."
"And what about Tarot cards?"
"Keep working with them."
"Okay. What about meditiation?"
"Meditation is good for you."
"Oh, and what about my job? What should I do about that?"
"Your job will take care of itself."
"What does that mean?"
"Use this time. You will know when the time comes to change."
"It will be clear?"
"Yes."