Some Say It Better Than I

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"What the mind of man can conceive and believe, it can achieve."

--Napoleon Hill

Some Say It Better Than I

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"Forgiveness is a rebirth of hope, a reorganization of thought, and a reconstruction of dreams. Once forgiving begins, dreams can be rebuilt. When forgiving is complete, meaning has been extracted from the worst of experiences and used to create a new set of moral rules and a new interpretation of life's events."

Beverly Flanigan

Yup, I'm Veganizing

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I've been dabbling in vegetarianism for a number of years now. I think the first time I committed was in eighth grade, a battle which took a lot of convincing for my parents to accept and a decision I stuck to for a fair bit of time. Since then, it's been on and off; my enthusiasm for vegetarianism has never really waned. Rather, my wishy-washy-ness has been more a product of peer pressure, self-consciousness, and a poorly formed rationale for my decision. In other words, I didn't have the ideological oomph to keep me firmly planted (no pun intended) in a lifestyle that just, well, felt right.

This past fall I returned to college as a sophomore, and even had a brief stint on the cross country team (an experience which taught me a number of things, among which is included the fact that HILLS ARE THE DEVIL.) While I was panting away up and down the streets and bike paths of southern Virginia, I was fortunate enough to meet a new friend on the team. He was also an English major, and truly one of the nicest guys I've ever known. Beyond his cordiality and easygoing nature, though, he is an intensely ethical person, someone whose manner of living is reflective of his beliefs and principles. Put simply, he walks the walk he talks about.

Over the course of our sweaty, ravenous team carb-fests following practice, I learned that my friend was a vegan. Since I've always been interested in nutrition and health, and since a conversation with me is more like a game of twenty questions than a dialogue, I was able to learn a lot from my friend about why he made the choice he did. Long story short, he said that he realized that he could not claim to believe and support the causes and principles he said he did without going all the way and making this tangible change in his life. With each conversation we had, I really felt my heart nodding along with my head in agreement: like vegetarianism, veganism just seemed to make sense, but only more so.

However, there were a few things preventing me from making the full commitment to veganism:

• My past wishy-washy-ness. I was terrified that someone would call me out as a fraud, lift some wall tapestry revealing the hidden door to my sordid inconsistency with plant-based living. 
• At the time, I was still trapped in the restrictive mindset of my eating disorders. I couldn't see all the vast implications or understand the holistic effects of veganism; I was blind to everything but the numbers on the scale or the tag of my jeans. 

So I didn't go vegan last fall. The resonance I felt during that conversation never fully disappeared, only dwindled to a flickering flame whose heat I could only feel if paid attention to it. But instead of nurturing that instinct towards something that felt so fundamentally right, I spent my year stuck in the mire of depression, bulimia, isolation, hurt, sadness, and fear. Things continued this way until the spring, when I began to realize that I

couldn't 

fucking

live 

like

this. 

I realized that I would need to change, or I would die, be it physically from the abuse of my eating disorder, or spiritually from the abuse of my depression and destructive coping mechanisms. 

I hit rock bottom; and in the quietness I discovered in that low state, I felt that forgotten flame again. 

I sensed that resonance, and this time, I listened to it. 

Since then, I've been researching veganism extensively, especially the high carb raw vegan lifestyle. Unlike my past research, though, this research has exploded to create a whole body of support beyond the purely dietary and physical results of this lifestyle. I'm discovering the spiritual, mental, psychological, environmental, and moral implications of making the stand for veganism. As one who believes in the incredible power of education to change lives, I'm finding that what I'm learning makes it really, really difficult to think about intentionally living in ignorance of the existence of these implications. But more than the threat of living dishonestly, the thing that's motivating me most as I do my research is a theme I've discovered as a core theme of veganism: 

reconnection. 

To the world, 

to God, 

to self. 

Now, that's what I call humbling. 

Some say it better than I

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We are made for loving. If we don’t love, we will be like plants without water. 

       - Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Nobel Peace Prize winner

Intentional Living: No Longer a Victim

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I would liken you

To a night without stars

Were it not for your eyes. 

I would liken you 

To a sleep without dreams

Were it not for your songs.

--Langston Hughes

I dream. Wildly, frivolously, passionately, with flushed and reckless abandon. 

I dream of star-speckled nights spent on islands, mountains, Parisian rooftops. 

I dream of pages--pages upon pages--of books, books with my name on the cover. 

I dream of audiences, of eyes shining and searching, looking for me on the stage. 

I dream of hugs and kisses and the complete love and trust of another. 

I dream of contentment. 

I dream of so many, many things. 

It took me a long time to be willing to admit to myself the presence of these big, full-bellied fantasies. When I did for the first time, I'd blush to think of the extravagance and scope of my heart's imagination. But then, I began to make room for my dreams, to allow myself the silliness and joy of my imaginings. Allowing myself my dreams was like giving myself a gift of returning happiness and light. But it also brought with it the twinge of melancholy, because while I came to carry my dreams with me next to my skin and inside my bones, I couldn't any longer ignore the difference between those dreams and the reality of my life.

I wanted to sing, but I had stage fright.
I wanted to be an artist, but I had to feed myself.
I wanted to be a writer, but I didn't have any time to be anything but a student.
I wanted to read more, but I was too tired to do anything but watch Netflix.
I wanted to have more friends, but I couldn't bear to burden others with my problems.
I wanted to heal from my sadness, but they say depression is something that's a fact of brain chemistry that can't be healed; you can't change your genes.

I want x, but y is getting in my way.

Excuses, excuses, excuses.

I've been a follower of a number of blogs that talk about intentional living, and I thought it was a concept that I'd come to understand. But yesterday, for some reason, it all came together for me in an instant in a way that's profoundly changed how I look at my life right now.

It happened after I came home from my summer job yesterday, a little tired and very eager to shake off the stress of the day. My usual pattern would be as follows:
1. Walk inside.
2. Kick off shoes.
3. Put bag on floor.
4. Get a glass of beverage.
5. Sit on couch and turn on TV.

I was about to initiate the above process, but yesterday, for some reason, I paused--and in pausing, I had this thought:

Intentional living is realizing that I'm choosing to tune out rather than tune into my life and my desires. 
Intentional living is realizing that I am not a victim of biology or situation. 
Intentional living is empowering myself to make the choices I can to bring myself closer to the realization of my dreams. 


And this small, logical thought has emotionally brought me to my knees and lifted my spirit with a new sense of hope and belief in myself. It has opened up my future to the possibility of alignment with my dreams.

This thought has lit me on fire with the prospect of living fully, freely, and truly.

What amazing things happen when we stop and allow them to, eh?

xoxo

Emma