Empowering Messages

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This comment on ease was made a few years ago;  letting go of suffering has no time limit.

Anne Sermons Gillis
annegillis.com

I'm in Mood for Food

Seoul Food

My friend called today from Florida. She's at a health institute. Much of the focus there is on food. The plan suggested for her is virtually impossible for her to manage at home unless she was wealthy or had hands that worked. She has rheumatoid arthritis. Her hands - not so good. She calls them claws. There are not going to be able to grow sprouts and to juice. But maybe those hands will fool her. She wants off the toxic meds. She believes her healing path is through food. I know food is seminal in healing, but when you can't get the recommended food for healing - what does that do for your heart, your hope, your dreams?

My husband and I fast on Tuesdays. My friend the chiropractor says it’s not a fast. The new definition of fasting is “to reframe from certain foods.” But he is old-fashioned so according to the old version of fasting, I guess we’ve doing a cleanse. I'm hungry. I'm not grumpy or agitated but I'm dreaming of eating a whole wheat homemade cracker that I made yesterday. This tasty little cracker has seeds in it along with olive oil and salt.. Tomorrow I'll be back on my regular food plan and in the morning I will barely think about food. I'll down a ground flax seed, apple juice, cranberry juice and spirulina concoction and be off on a one hour bike ride. I'll return home and eat or maybe I'll wait until after I walk the dog. Food is not such a big deal the day after “cleansing” because it is no longer the forbidden fruit.
I grew up in a food obsessive family. When someone in my family talks about a party, a vacation or a wedding you’re going to hear about the food. I did a picture book of my trip to Korea and Thailand and it is full of food – street food, eating on the floor food, seafood, food before it’s cooked, food in paradise, bakery food – it’s nuts this food thing I have.

Our favorite restaurant closed recently and my husband and I are bereft. We heard the rumors of closure but we had to see for ourselves. We rode our bikes down to Teasars and peered into the darkened rooms. Until recently this was a chandelier-filled den of pleasure. Now nothing is left except the ghosts of delicacies. We have to find a new place to spend our anniversary. It’s like we lost a family member.
I believe in food magic. The right food can cure anything, it can ease pain – we’re talking chocolate here, food can make you hyper, lift your spirits or soothe you. Food can win friends, make life more social.

I have a position on food. It’s not good, it’s not bad. Life is my oyster and I’ll have a little butter on them, if you don’t mind. And pass the hummus please.
Anne Sermons Gillis annegillis.com

You Can Smell the Peace

 This morning I went to the Unitarian church to hear my friend, Tony George, play drums. He did an outstanding job. Our friend Paul Klein led the pact and a handful of musical masters shared soul and rhythm with the congregation.

I returned and found my tail-wagging wildly enthusiastic dog, Lucy, waiting. As I often do, I went for the floor and we rolled around together. We had a grand time and in between our antics she managed a sniff or two. I watched her smelling me. It was so intimate. She’s sniffs me all the time, but until today, I really didn’t take part. Today, I offered no resistance and became a co-conspirator in this animal act of recognition. “Oh I know you, this is your smell.” In the past, I’ve smelled her too, but not to recognize her, just to manage her health. Does she smell, does she need a bath, do the inside of her ears smell funny? She’s the only living animal I smell.

With a few exceptions – I smell people’s breath, their B.O. and their gas, and that’s not pleasant. I don’t intentionally smell others, no sniffing and drinking it in. No smell and tell. Their odors just happen to be in line with my olfactory receptors. These human odors don’t have much character. I can’t ever remember thinking, “You have such lovely breath.”These are not terms of endearment. I can’t imagine living 300 years ago. Smelling was not an elective. Every day was a smellathon. If you were near anyone, you knew it. Now we’re sanitized, scrubbed clean and antibacterialized.

I read somewhere that if you lick your arm, and wait 3 seconds and then smell it; you can smell your breath. It does work. I think that’s why I brush my teeth three times a day. And in full disclosure, I admit I do smell under my arms frequently because I don’t use deodorant. This is my maintenance smelling.

This reminds me of a smell joke. Can you believe I actually know a smell joke? Actually I know two. A janitor is in the elevator. He is alone and lets out a big one. It was one of those stinky ones so he sprays some Pine-sol. When the next person get in the elevator he exclaims, “What the heck? It smells like someone shit a Christmas tree.”

I can’t resist. My mom told me this next smell joke. It was so uncharacteristic of her; she was a little on the prim and proper side until she got Alzheimer’s. Then all that propriety sort of leaked out. “The blind man passed a fish market. ‘Good evening ladies.’” I think that was the family dirty joke.

Now, back on track. I wish people were not so standoffish – you know that 18 inch rule - too close and we’re in someone’s space. I wish people could get close enough to recognize each other’s fragrance, that one identifying odor unique to him or her. I remember that deep time of intimacy with a new lover when I wanted to drink him in. I would smell his clothes – his chest - I just wanted to be closer. I wanted my breath to bring him into me.

I wonder if we knew each other intimately - I knew your smell and you knew mine, could we call ourselves enemies? Could we forget that primal musky call to life? Could we go to war and kill each other? If I was intoxicated by your essence, what would I do? What would you do? What would we do? If were that close, would we go to war?

Bike Ride

This morning I rode my bicycle. When I looked at the drop off on the path's edge, I was afraid, but when I kept my eye on the center of the path, where I wanted my bike to go, I felt confident. When you look for danger, the world is a dangerous place.

BTW I'm going for the smart, sassy, old geezer look here. How am I doing? This is my new Giant bicycle. It's the Suede model. It came with a faux leather cell phone holder. I have a three wheeler but it takes too  much energy to ride in the southern heat. My new model has the high handle bars. I can ride with my back straight. I had a two wheeler, but all two wheelers are not created equally. I was tired of my hands going to sleep when I rode my old two wheeler and having a hunched back. The ride on this thing is amazing. My husband and I ride bikes everywhere we can. This way we get exercise and reduce our carbon footprint. We can get to the bank, grocery store, numerous restaurants, concerts in town and the grocery store by bike.

Since my husband and amazing partner Jim retired we have the time to bike, swim and live a slower-paced life. Life is good.

I Googled myself today and came across an interview made in 2003. The interviewer is Ken Keis. It's an hour - just to warn you, but if you want to make your life easier, it is worth the time.

The art and wisdom of easy living – Ken Keis / Anne Sermons Gillis

MP3 search on MP3hunting

The Truth Contest - Check it Out

I received an e-mail from a group of college students who have a web site devoted to Truth.  They wanted to link my web site to their site. http://www.annegillis.com/ Of course this roused my curiosity. Examination revealed a cool site. As you read their words below maybe your heart will rise in love. They are our greatest hope - an amazing synthesis of possibility and vision. In the midst of the greatest darkness let us see the shining light of this new generation. They see the truth so many us us have carried in our hearts forever. 

The students who developed the site say:
"As young people, we are disappointed with how adults have run this world in the past and are running it now. They are stealing our future with their irrational and irresponsible behavior. It has to stop now.

Everyone should be interested in spreading a universal truth, a truth that can be checked, that can unite all mankind. We cannot survive the divisions that separate us. They result in wars and destruction of the environment. We need to find our common ground.

With honesty, open minds, an open exchange of ideas, good will and the power of the Internet, we will find and spread the truth about life and death.
Check out the entries at the truth contest and send your comments to the site, or leave a comment on this blog."The site is a terrific resource for truth seekers. The Truth Contest - The Truth Contest is really not a competition with a winner. It is just the best way to find, define and spread the truth. The only mission is to find, define and spread the truth, and the main page and comments page show what has been found so far The Truth Contest.


PS  It's the third year my orchid's bloomed. It looks like a check mark.

Broken Foot; My Right Foot, Not My Left Foot

Today marks the eight week since my life turned upside down. It was the day I broke my right foot. As an avid walker, the broken foot halted life as I’d known it. But, yesterday I went for my first bicycle ride in two months.  I’ve walked my dog the past few days. Life goes on.

My husband retired one month ago.  Yesterday was the third month we’ve had sweet little Lucy. This is the same dog I was attached to when she chased a cat.  That’s the brief version on how I broke my foot.

I sit in bed and write this thankful that sitting in bed is a choice – when I first broke my foot it was more of a necessity.  My foot doesn’t feel one hundred percent right but with more time I’m expecting the body miracle to continue to heal it.

As I write these words it’s with ambivalence. Sometimes when people write of themselves there’s truth shared or compassion unveiled, but some words about me and my life and what I do sound like narcissistic ramblings. Some words refresh, some boggle the mind while other words leave us wanting more. Maybe all things written cannot be a home run. Maybe some words can be mundane, flippant or garish. I honor words. They can take us from the ordinary into sacred space. Maybe I expect too much from my words but I know the possibility. I know how words can dance and prance past our minds and into blessing.  I want to care for my words. I don’t like to waste them on broken foot and token mind spasms.  I want them to live and be free. But in the other hand I cannot live in a word prison. I must be free to speak of daily living and dogs chasing running cats and broken feet.  

As I said “today marks the eight week since my life turned upside down.” No word dread, enough said.