One woman’s journey from her body to her soul letting her relationship with food show the way.
I was in the middle of getting my hair done at a salon (a luxury I treat myself to every week) when my phone rang. I wasn’t surprised as it was the opening night of the film festival I was mounting in honour of International Women’s Day—a huge event I’d created on my own for a cause I am passionate about. The caller identified herself as being from the CBC, Canada’s national broadcaster, and asked if she was speaking to the Michelle Brewer who was responsible for the event. I replied that she was. She then asked me if I spoke French. I paused. I have worked hard at my French—including having lived two and a half years in immersion in Québec City. In fact, I can usually even pass as francophone for the first few sentences—that is, until my lack of vocabulary, my English mind moving faster than my French mouth and the letter R betray me. Still, out of love for the film festival and being a proud Canadian, I took a deep breath and responded oui.
One thing I have come to see in the short time I have been writing this blog is that I have to show up and be responsible for the discipline of writing: etch out a time, sit myself down (preferably at Starbucks with a chai tea latté), set myself up to go and write down some of the ideas that have been whirling around in my head. Those are the basics. Most days the discipline also includes things like resist the internet and ignore the to do list–things that weren’t even on my mind until I sat down to write. Okay, I check my emails more than I need to. But I usually bring myself back.
I hate it at the beginning of each post. I hate it because at that moment I don’t know what I am going to write. Sure I have some orienting ideas. But I’ve come to realize that it is a process that I start but don’t necessarily know where it will go. That is the grace part-the part I do not control. It is the gift—the unmerited favour or goodwill from the universe. Yes, and thank-you.
The exercise of writing the list forced me to appreciate little things as successes that usually go unnoticed. A brilliant illustration of the power of attention with intention: wherever your attention goes, grows.
The New Year has become an important time for me in my Edmonton life. It goes back to the end of 2010. I was in Vancouver and felt especially alone. It was my first full year separated. There had been a lot of transition. No denying it, it had been hard.
I was lamenting this in late December to a group that I was part of that came together weekly for an hour by phone to support each other in personal and spiritual growth. Our leader Sue Dumais suggested I make a list of successes from the past year. I couldn’t see any harm. And I didn’t want to stay stuck or gloomy. So I trusted her. I decided on and committed to writing down 100 successes from 2010.
I ponder the concept of solipsism. It is the philosophical contention that only my existence is real. I’ve come to the conclusion that psychologically solipsism is the position that only my existence is trustworthy. Enter food.