January 9, 2019

the c word

No, not "cunt".  Nothing offends me about "cunt".

I'm referring to "creativity".  (*ptooey ptooey ptooey*)

I indulged frequently in the holidays' ample comestibles and the time has come to pay.  No, not pay.  Restore balance.  Return to myself.  Experience a sense of control.

(Please don't let me become a Louise Hay-person.  If I do, kill me at once.  It's for the best.)

To re-frame thinking, a person has to try.  And it requires the C-word.

Last night, the frozen moment we all experience:  My hand had grabbed the protein bar, one of the really good ones, out of the habit of eating to eat.  My right hand was poised to begin peeling back the wrapper.  And then, I chose to stop.

I stood still, caught in that tense space between animal act and rationality.  Seconds passed.  I felt the wave of resentment that comes when dieting meets denial, when want meets "no".  I wanted to move forward, but my brain arm-wrestled with itself.

Thoughts passed through ....

... me telling The Kid ... "solve the problem.  Tell me three things you can do about it."

... from my recent readings about Buddhism ... meditate ... experience the moment; palpate it; feel it.

... from my current re-read of The Hogfather ... Susan holding her arms out, spreading her fingers, swinging them down to stop Time.  A ritual.  A motion.  A symbol.

I put the bar back in the cabinet this time.  I had somehow harnessed creativity.  Today, I'm spending mental energy reinforcing these things.

Don't you dare tell a living soul.

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