RUSSIAN BANYA - A Day in a Traditional Russian Sauna

"The banya is like the Russian's second mother", wrote Pushkin in 1832. Though it may sound like hyperbole, the banya has been a staple of Russian culture and health since medieval times. Every village had at least one banya serving not only as a center for cleanliness and bathing, but for magic and folklore. There was even a mischievous little sprite associated with the banya call a mystical "Bannik", the guardian of steam and heat, the caretaker of the sauna and its participants. In order to appease the sprite, the bather had to enter clean and leave the same way. So developed the etiquette for bathers.

Dallas has an authentic Russian banya. The facility also has a Finnish sauna (dry heat), a steam room (Hammam) and a cold plunge pool (ice and dunk tank). There is a restaurant, men's and women's locker rooms and a small store, which sells the traditional birch bundles (more about this later) and Russian felt sauna hats in two styles, one for the guys and one for the gals. These hats are worn in the banya, protecting the top of the head and the ears from the intense heat.

One Sunday, I went with two friends to see what this was all about!

No frills, no deluxe amenities: this is a pretty spartan, bare-bones facility. When we arrived, there were several men and one lady sitting around one of the tables, drinking water and talking. The men, as we later learned, were spending the day...sauna, banya, cold plunge, sit and drink water and talk and then start all over again. We had been told to bring a bathing suit, but were given a robe, towel and flip-flops (we asked if we could wear our own and we could). The robes looked as though they were an after-thought; they had seen better days. The good news is that I did not feel compelled to purchase one to have at home. Towels are much the same: white, beige, worn. No linen envy on my part!

A bit of a tour and short explanation followed. We had scheduled a Venik Massage and were told a bit, not much, about that. If you wanted a traditional massage (I'm not sure what a traditional Russian massage would be), that had to be arranged with an off-site person who would come to the banya for that purpose.

So into the locker room, into our bathing suits, and into the Finnish sauna we went. Hot, but comfortably so, I could have stayed and stayed. The three of us talked for some time, broke a good sweat and then the door opened and the gentleman scheduled to give us our Venik Massages came into the sauna to give a bit more detail about that treatment. He suggested we go into the banya to feel the heat and said that he would do one massage at a time, but that the other two were free to stay and watch, if desired.

Robes back on, we walked across the narrow hall and went into the banya. The woman and most of the men were there and it was hot! My concern was how long the massage would last and if I could last for the duration in this intense heat. Our masseur was a man of medium height, quite tan and with a large belly. He was wrapped in a long blue and white striped towel and spoke with a "Boris and Natasha" (from Bullwinkle) accent. In fact, we nicknamed his Boris. Strong, like bull, Boris!

We stayed in the banya for a few minutes and then went back into the Finnish sauna to visit and enjoy the milder heat. As suggested, we went to our table in the main room and drank water. Boris came and said he was ready for the first massage. He had told us that our bathing suits, being synthetic, were not appropriate for the cleansing of the Venik Massage and that it would be better if we wore nothing. When in Rome...actually, in what spa do you wear clothes? None.

First victim! Andrea came back out several minutes later (maybe fifteen), red as a beet and was instructed to immediately immerse herself in the cold plunge. Boris, sensing her reluctance, exhorted her until, screaming, she did so. She came to the table and drank water, as instructed. Lots of color to her skin, some mottling, but whether due to the cold plunge or the Venik Massage, it was hard to tell.

Lyn was next. Same routine. Red as borscht, wahoo-ing as she went into the cold plunge and then back to the table for water and note comparing with Andrea. Boris, who wears the felt hat with ear flaps and heavy gloves, said that he needed to take a breather and wanted to wait a bit before he went back in to do my massage. Also, the men had gone back into the banya and he wanted them to complete their stay before he and I went in.

Maybe twenty or thirty minutes passed before it was my turn. So in we went. Towels are placed on the wood bench of the second of three levels in the banya. It is entirely too hot to be on the wood without some protection. Boris asked me to lie on my stomach first, but let me explain what the Venik Massage is all about.

Venik Massage is a traditional Slavic experience, also called "platza massage" or a "shvitz massage". A venik is a bundle of birch, oak or eucalyptus branches bound together. The bundle is repeatedly soaked in cold water to soften the leaves without making them drop from the branches. Then the venik is soaked in very hot water to release the oils in the leaves and branches. In the banya, the venik is placed in a container of hot water. Once you are on your stomach, the masseur takes the bundle out of the water and shakes it over your body so that the oils drop on your skin. The bundle is massaged over your body, pressed into your skin, and then you are hit with the bundle in various places (unless you have been very, very good). This is done back and front and then back again. All of this takes place in about fifteen minutes.

Boris then asked if I was ready to leave and, with bits of venik stuck to my skin, I wrapped my towel around me and headed for the plunge. I was expecting the water to be unbearably cold, but it was quite pleasurable. While icy to the touch when we first put a hand in at the beginning of our tour, after being in the banya, the water was delightful, refreshing, rather than shocking.

Back to the table, told to drink lots of water (this I think for their sense of protection since it is not actually a traditional sauna practice), Boris said we might feel sleepy for a bit. The treatment was something I will probably do again, now that I know what it is all about.

Once home, I made a bit of lunch and, overcome with tiredness, went to bed for about two hours. Boris was right.

All that was missing from my Russian experience at the banya was a gypsy with a brown bear on a chain.

HONEY, WHAT YOU'RE LOOKING FOR AIN'T IN NO REFRIGERATOR!

Food has so many emotional connotations for us.

In the beginning, food was one of the instant gratifications received when we cried at the top of our lungs. It not only nourished our little bodies, but gave us emotional sustenance as well: whether nursed or bottle-fed, we were held, close in our mother's arms, warm, secure, loved.

As we grew, food was a part of family celebrations. What was our birthday without cake and ice cream? Who could have Thanksgiving without dressing, cranberries, and pumpkin pie? Christmas without all the trimmings (and I'm not talking twinkle lights here)? Impossible! We were usually rewarded with food: a 'treat' for being good or for making good grades. I remember getting suckers after visits to the Doctor's office. Food to calm or quiet us; they don't call it 'comfort food' for nothing. Homemade ice cream in the summer...helping Grandmother roll out dough for homemade noodles...waiting for the leftover bits of pie crust to come out of the oven, all covered with sugar and cinnamon, on the days Mom baked. And think about what we do as grown-ups when we want to get together with friends...we go to dinner or have a dinner party. We socialize around eating.

Food is emotionally charged!

For many of us, that means we use food as a tool for problem solving, as a coping mechanism, as a way to deal with tiredness, stress, sadness, anger, loneliness. We do this because our history growing up has taught us that food means love and approval.

Our use of food for other purposes than nutrition and fuel is usually not conscious. We may reach for the chocolate kiss because that is what our daddy would give us every time he came home from a business trip. Maybe our drama coach reward edus with lemon drops after a particularly good rehearsal. The whole team would go for burgers, fries and a shake after winning a game. So when we are down, feeling depressed or unloved, we love ourselves in a way that replicates the feelings we had back then...we are not consciously remembering the specific event, just the way certain foods make us feel.

But afterwards, it usually doesn't feel very good, especially if we are struggling with weight or health issues. We feel guilty...that we have no will-power...that we are failures...afraid for our future wellness. And once the taste of that favorite food is gone, we don't even feel loved.

Intellectually, we know that eating is not a solution to the emotional void we might be trying to fill as we fill (stuff?) our stomachs. What is?

We have to be gutsy enough to be able to sit with our feelings without rushing out to fix anything. John McMullin, a wonderful man and gifted Holistic Coach (www.JourneysofWisdom.com) offered this in a workshop: you do not do a suffering person a favor by trying to take away their pain. It is hubris to believe that we are going to fix them by rushing in and offering a pat on the back, a 'there, there' or a shoulder to cry on. So it should be with our own suffering.

A close acquaintance told me this story. After his daughter committed suicide, he was overcome, more than usual, by a grief and sadness so intense he could hardly breathe. He went to his counselor, as he had many times during his healing process. After describing the depth of his despair, the counselor offered an exercise. "When this feeling of abysmal grief comes to you, stop and take a breath. Say to yourself, 'So this is how it feels to be utterly grief stricken.' Let the feeling have a place. Do not try to banish it. Sit with your sadness." My friend told me he did that many times in the course of his recovery. And it worked for him. On a much less traumatic level, I have practiced this exercise in my own life. It has a remarkable power to calm the most hysterical emotions, to dry tears, to create a stillness - the eye of the storm, if you will. Peace is the result. There is something very powerful and healing about acknowledging an emotion you would just as soon not have to experience.

First rule: don't rush in to fix what is causing you pain. Allow it to have a place (it's going to make one for itself anyway). Say to yourself so this is how it feels to be alone...whatever you are feeling. Allow yourself to feel how alone feels. Trying to cover up the feeling with chocolate or whatever your comfort food might be has never made the feelings go away for good in the past. And you know what? Feeling alone is not going to kill you. Being sad is not the end of you. Feeling that no one loves you is not the end of the world and can you be absolutely certain of the truth of that feeling? Not absolutely.

Second rule: be the kind of person you would want to be with. If energy draws to it like energy, be the brightest star in the firmament. Sure, you may have 10 things that are not great in your life, but there is at least one thing that is beautiful...think of that one beautiful thing. Our minds can only hold one thought at a time: we cannot be both happy and miserable. When your mind takes you to a dark place, have ready the one thought that is the opposite of what took you there and think it, out loud if you have to. I have said a positive affirmation over and over again through tears until I was able to calm down, see the truth and good in my life. If you become the type of person you would want to spend time with, you are the lucky one because who spends more time with you than you! Then anyone who comes into your life is a welcome addition, not a can't-live-without-you necessity.

Third rule: know that you are enough. It is hard for me to believe that a divine creator or a divine intelligence would send any of us here for a purpose and then send us here flawed, without the tools to accomplish the job. The 'taming' process (how we are socialized by parents and institutions) makes us feel that something is missing in us...don't do that, that's not right, don't embarass me, this is the way you should act. We are so young while all this instruction is taking place that it is easy for us to feel that something is wrong with us. Listen to that still, small voice inside you that whispers you are perfect just the way you are. There is a wonderful quote: "There are cracks in everything. That's how the light gets in." That is also how our light gets out. Revel in knowing you are enough, just as you are.

So don't be afraid of pain and sadness. "Things don't happen to us, they happen for us," says Byron Katie. Use every event as an opportunity for growth. Learn so you might be able to hold out a hand to help someone struggling with something you have already experienced.

Decide what kind of person you wish to be. The choice is yours...to be happy or to be sad. If you truly believe it is a choice, why would you choose to be miserable? Become the person you wish you were...or as the old joke goes, become the person your dog thinks you are! If you have to, fake it 'til you make it.

Love yourself. You weren't sent here lacking. Don't let yourself be defined by what you believe others think of you. Define yourself by what gives you joy and a sense of purpose.

Love, peace, joy, fulfillment? You need only look in the mirror...

...not in the refrigerator.

MOTHER

Our mother loves us before she ever lays eyes on us. Then she spends her whole life showing us what love is...how to love, how to be loved.

She teaches us how the world should be, while preparing us to live in the world as it is.

She maintains a haven for us, should we ever need one, while instilling in us the courage to leave her.

Losing a mother is a difficult thing.

My mother died 15 years ago this August. These words were not written for her, but were part of a letter of condolence to a friend who had just lost her mother. I would not have written this about my own mother, but felt that my friend believed she had a mother for whom this should have been written. These thoughts were most likely what I wanted to believe motherhood was...what I hoped I would be able to do for my daughter as her mother...what I had wished for in a mother.

What a shame there weren't for my mom.

There is an exercise in Paul Chek's PPS Program that asks what lessons one has learned from one's parents. My first response was that my mother had taught me nothing. But, of course, that isn't true.

It's a fact that I never learned to cook or clean house from her; she felt that if she had to ask or make me do chores, it wasn't the type of experience she wanted either of us to have.

The lesson for me was never ask for help...and, if you do ask and help doesn't come right then or if the answer is no, never ask for help from that person again.

What a lost opportunity for me and for the other person, who might have genuinely wanted to help, but couldn't within my constraints of now! This is still a challenge for me, asking for help. But by not doing so, I might be depriving another person of the opportunity to feel they are doing something good and loving for me.

My mother was not very disciplined with her time or her health. She could get lost in music or painting for hours and then forget to eat, throwing her brittle diabetes into a tail spin.

I have been an undisciplined person, procrastinating, choosing immediate gratification over the long term goal most of the time.

But when my mother lost an arm and shoulder to a rare form of cancer, she taught herself to write with her non-dominant hand, to play the piano, to paint again, to balance her body weight without a part of her body...lessons in discipline and fortitude. She had passion for those things she loved, that brought her joy and she fought fiercely to be able to continue them in spite of her physical limitations and constant phantom limb pain.

My mother was outwardly cold, undemonstrative. Her one lesson about sex was when she told me that "rubbers squeak".

To this day, I don't know if she was talking about condoms or rain boots! So I was quite naive about sex, the opposite sex, a healthy sexual appetite, how to have rhythm and flow in my life.

My mother was actually a passionate, sexual woman who had been hurt and felt the only way she could protect herself was to turn a part of herself off. I have tried to protect myself from emotional pain by withdrawing a part of myself from life; it doesn't work. And you miss out on so much along the way. I now know that I would rather cry from having something not work out than from the regret of never having tried.

My mother had a gift for making a home out any place we lived. We moved every year at Christmas from the time I was in first grade until I was in the ninth grade...no we were not gypsies or in the witness protection program! Whether it was a basement apartment in Russell, Kansas or a rent house in Paul's Valley, Oklahoma or our own home in Midland, Texas, within days of moving in, drapes were up, pictures hung, books in the bookshelves...everything in its proper place so that there was continuity and a sense of home, even though she knew we would be leaving in less than a year.

I have created a home that is a haven for me, filled with things and colors that sooth me and bring me joy. But I never felt I had any roots...I was never from any place. I can't tell you what little podunk town I was in for third grade, don't remember the name of my best friend in fourth grade, can't tell you the name of one school I went to until I was in high school. I was adamant that my daughter have the opportunity to be in one school all the way from kindergarten through high school, if that was her desire.

What I never considered was the cost to mother in this nomadic way of life. She also had to leave friends each time we moved. It was her job to set up our new home. She did this every time without complaint and with love for me and my step-dad. I don't know if I could pull that off.

As Mother's Day approaches, I can see my mother through different eyes than even several years ago. The last year of her life, a gift was given me: the opportunity to care for her as she went through radiation for Non-Hotchkins Lymphoma. She and I mended some fences, actually kissed for the first time in our lives - she told me she had never kissed her mother or father - and I allowed her to be human, not holding her to such an unattainable standard of perfection because I didn't feel she loved me and my hurt had turned to anger. I am still grateful for that gift.

So, Happy Mother's Day, mama.

Losing a mother IS a difficult thing

And rubbers don't squeak!

THE KOREAN SPA

The word sauna is an ancient Finnish word which means the traditional Finnish bath as well as the bathhouse itself. The oldest known saunas were pits dug into a slope or hill and used as homes during the winter. The Finns used the sauna as a place to cleanse the mind, rejuvenate and refresh the spirit, prepare the dead for burial, and - because it was usually the cleanest structure and had water available - as a place to give birth. The sauna is still an important part of daily family life in Finland and most homes have a sauna.

Saunas can be found in most cultures: Finland, the Baltic countries, Sweden, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, France, the UK, southern Europe, Central America, the US, Africa, Japan, Australia and Korea.

In Korea, the sauna is essentially a public bathhouse. Families come to enjoy the day together, with the men and women taking showers, whirlpools, and massages in separate parts of the facility, but coming together for the saunas.

A friend and I decided to try to local Korean sauna I had heard so much about. I have enjoyed dry saunas in the spas and hotels I have stayed in over the years. My country club offered one as an amenity in the ladies' locker room. My friend, a client of my partner and our business, is in the middle of a detox program and wanted to use the sauna to help "sweat" out some impurities. So we set out on a Sunday for an adventure!

We passed the entrance to the Spa and had to double back. Not expecting the facility to be marked by a gate with a ceramic family of giraffes on the crossbar, we missed the turn-in the first time around, sure it was the entrance to a safari-type park. When the Spa came into view at the end of the drive, the parking lot was quite full. I felt like I was looking at a small town casino: two huge sitting lions graced either side of the staircase to the entrance. Once inside, I don't know if casino is the word I would have chosen to describe the place.

We entered, taking our shoes off, getting locker keys and a set of pink gym shorts with top. Then we were ushered into the women's locker room. Various shapes, sizes, and ages of females were walking around nude (as I had been told we had to be when I called for information).

We put our shoes in one tiny locker and our clothes in a larger one across the room. Grabbing a towel the size of a small guest hand towel, we walked into the shower room. With a wall of showers on one side, four whirlpools in the middle, each with a different temperature and mineral content, a wet sauna, a cold pool in the middle of the room, and the open massage and body scrub area on the other side, the room was moist to say the least. Moms, with little ones, young girls, older women in head scarves: this was a real cross-section of the female condition.

Showered and in our pink outfit (the guys get blue), we entered the co-ed portion of the Spa. A restaurant, rows of pink fake leather couches, trimmed in Victorian curlicued white wood, and various saunas greeted us. Some people were asleep on the couches or on mats on the floor. Some ate. Some watched T. V. Children played. Gongs would chime and a soft Asian voice would say something. Often that would create a mad rush into one of the sauna rooms. We were not in Kansas anymore.

First, we entered The Pyramid Room. The walls are covered with 23 carat gold to help cleanse impurities. The pyramid shape channels metaphysical energy. This sauna felt good. At 115 degrees, I hadn't started to sweat yet when my friend started to feel a little light-headed. This is often the case when doing a detox.

We left The Pyramid Room and entered The Ice Room, the equivalent of a cold plunge pool. Chilled to just above freezing (35 degrees), it was suggested that you rub your towel over your skin to get the best out of the stimulation to blood flow. The floor was covered with grass mats and it was too cold to comfortably be barefooted on the floor without them.

After several minutes, we went into The Salt Room. Made from 350 million year old salt rocks, this rooms aids in rejuvenating the skin. The temperature gauge said 120 degrees. The floors had cloth mats over the grass mats and, if you were not resting on the cloth, you would end up with a huge red mark on your skin. The walls were too hot to touch for long. I was just beginning to glisten when my friend said she thought she should leave because she was feeling a bit nauseous. Again we went into The Ice Room to lower our body temperature.

There is a Yellow-Soil Crystal Room heated to 115 degrees and unique to Korean culture. It combines infrared rays with the absorptive nature of the yellow soil to extract toxins within the body.

The Base Rock Bath Room contains amethyst crystals, yellow soil and a bed-like slab of imported Japanese Siraka, a mineral said to have fantastic healing abilities. This room is heated to 127 degrees.

The Fire Sudatorium, or sweating bath, is made from elvan stones. The intense heat (165 to 170 degrees) is said to be exhilarating.

There is The Oxygen Room, the "Hawng-Toe-Ssut-Jjim" Room (yellow soil and wormwood steam room), and the Bulgama. This is the room everyone runs into when the gong sounds. It contains amethysts crystals and the elvan stone - a unique living stone. When the gong sounds, it means that a flatbed car loaded with the stones, which are heated to 155 degrees, is brought in on tracks and heats the room up dramatically.

Enough sauna. We decided to have the Body Scrub and Massage. So back into the shower room we go, to shower and wait for out table which is one of about eight behind a sand-blasted glass wall depicting characters from The Simpsons. I kid you not. Apparently, this T. V. show is huge in Korea.

All the tables are in a row and each has a tiny lady clad only in bra and panties...some matching and quite lovely and some not so much. Each table is covered in turquoise plastic and once on the table, your tiny lady pours a bucket of water over you and applies a salt rub that is vigorously worked into your skin with loofahs...not once, not twice, but trice. Interspersed with a bucket of water being flung on you after each phase of the scrub, by the end, I felt as though I had auditioned for the final dance scene in Flashdance. Oh, what a feeling.

Then the tiny lady washes and oils you and begins the massage. There is a language barrier so if you have issues with range of motion there is no way to communicate that to her. Front, back, back, front...at one point, I felt that I would slide off my table and bounce along all the other ones until I reached the floor! I was fine with everything until - on my stomach - she climbed on the bottoms of my feet with her knees. Holy Seoul! She could tell by the frantic waving of my arms that this was not something I was keen on. When she climbed up on my buttocks with the same knees, it actually felt good...

The massage is a bit rough. You feel a little slung around. There is slapping and cupping...must be the Korean way. No gentle Four Seasons pampering here. Because you are in a big room with everything else going on, it is not quiet and soothing. And it is wet! I think I came in with a few more freckles than I left with, but my skin did feel smooth. On the way home, my friend told me that every time my tiny lady would finish one part of the treatment, she would take her bra off and wash herself. Maybe she was afraid I had cooties.

THE PERFECT LIFE

The other day at lunch, I overheard a conversation between two young women. They were talking about a mutual friend, describing her as having the 'perfect' life. Their tone indicated that they wanted it, but didn't feel they would have that kind of life.

I started thinking.

Is life supposed to be perfect? Where is that written?

And what would the 'perfect' life look like?

That evening, I was sitting in my back yard, listening to the birds' songs as they settled into their nests for the night. A soft spring breeze blew across my face. The night was clear and full of stars. What would MY perfect life look like?

I would have a roof over my head.

I would have clean food on my table.

I would have an open and loving relationship with my daughter.

I would have friends I care for, who care for me.

I would have laughter.

I would have work to do that mattered to me and made me glad to have a place to go each day.

I would have a bottle of Don Julio 1942 on the bar.

I would have amazing sex as often as possible.

Well, seven out of eight ain't bad!

As I sat that evening, I thought, "I HAVE the perfect life!"

And I don't even believe there is such a thing...

What would your 'perfect' life look like? I'd love to hear from you.

DIGGIN' IN THE LIFE

I knew I was through the roughest time after my divorce this Spring when I looked out at the dozen or so plant containers on my patios and started planning what I would put in each one.

For the past year and a half, I didn't care that there were dead plants that I hadn't even felt like pulling out of the pots. When they say it takes eighteen months to two years to recover from divorce, even if you asked for it, "they" weren't kidding.

So, here I am, on the other side of that abyss and Spring has sprung and I am a planting savant!

Even when I was first married and all I had was an apartment balcony, I loved planting containers. When we had our first home, a sunny back yard cried out for a vegetable garden...asparagus, dill around the tomato plants so the worms go there instead of to the fruit... and lots flowers that reminded me of my grandparents, especially my grandmother - consummate gardeners. How I wish I had asked then all the questions that flood my mind now; but I was young and I didn't know I would love gardening, so I never asked.

Trial and error, I gardened my way through many years of marriage, a couple of apartments and two houses, cats doing wheelies between my feet as I dead-headed flowers, watered container pots, added bird feeders, yard sculptures, stone features...dug in the "life."

Soil is life.

And there is such joy derived from looking at a small flower bed that has been weeded, freshly turned, and planted with whatever I fancy at that moment in time. I used to get up in the middle of the night and look out at the pots and beds by the light of the moon...fresh plantings gave me that much happiness: a sense of satisfaction, the spark of creation, order out of chaos, the promise of growth and beauty.

Soil is full of life. Ants churning underground, turning the soil, doing the ant-work...earthworms aerating and tilling even the hardest clay soil (how do their soft mucosal noses not snap off from the effort of pushing up through hard packed Texas dirt?) , adding nutrients to the mix...both creating space and a habitable environment for all the organisms that are needed to enrich our earth.

Soil is not just dirt. Soil is the foundation for everything we eat and for everything that we eat to eat. But we haven't been good stewards of the land. From chemicals and fertilizers to pesticides to rain forest destruction to scraping the top soil only to come in with filler after all the trees have been cut down to build a parking lot, we are destroying this rich and vital few inches of that which sustains us.

What it requires of each of us, even if just in the few square feet over which we may have control, is an understanding of the implications of our choices. Many may argue that man was given dominion over the earth, but destruction of it's precious resources is not the act of a kind and benevolent or wise ruler.

A little TLC of the soil leads to the joy of loving something, creating beauty in one's midst, teaching by decisions congruent with core values. Then there is being outside in wonderful weather, painting a picture through the palette of well chosen plants and flowers, building a habitat for birds, butterflies, ladybugs, praying mantises, worms and ants!

Digging in the life is better than a trip to a shrink...while you plant, you can problem solve, chart the next steps for the life you are creating, spend time with kids or grandkids, and create an oasis of peace and beauty in the midst of a hectic and toxic world.

And it is a wonderful sign of hope for a better tomorrow and faith that the future holds promise!

You might want to watch this and pass it along to friends:

http://www.foodrenegade.com/the-soil-crisis-and-the-problem-solvers/#more-1774

I HAVE A CONFESSION TO MAKE

I am not perfect.

While this comes as no surprise to my family and my business partner, it may be a shock to several of you reading this right now!

I have been really dialed in regarding how I eat for about the past four years...gluten-free, fully hydrated (pure - not tap - water), no sugar, high purine proteins (I'm a fast oxidizer), lots of organic veggies. This, along with proper movement and training workouts, is how I lost weight, got off seven prescription medications, and regained a vibrant, healthy life.

My old bug-a-boo was refined carbs...give me a homemade biscuit or a scone, crackers, pasta, a dense whole-wheat bread and I thought I was one happy camper. Desserts often seemed like the perfect breakfast. Now I know what dysfunctions were operating in my body...adrenal fatigue, thyroid immune disease, leaky gut syndrome, parasitic/bacterial infestation. I was propping up a system struggling to function due to improper nutrition by eating more of the same non-foods that had created the problem in the first place: a kick of sugar for energy and then more later on when that resulted in an energy crash. And the cycle kept repeating itself.

So when I changed not only my way of living but MY WAY OF THINKING about how I wanted to live and be, I felt pretty smug, truth be known! I thought I had it knocked, TKO'ed, on the ropes..."it" being the disempowering, unhealthy lifestyle and cravings.

A couple of months ago, I started wanting sweets. So I indulged myself, but not with the old, bad-for-me sweets. I was eating gluten-free, honey-sweetened macaroons or goat milk ice cream, or granola made with gluten-free organic oats and nuts, sweetened with organic maple syrup. But I was eating this every day, sometimes twice a day. And I wasn't moving as much.

Although I was still training twice a week, I was sitting at my desk, on my computer for hours at a time...no fresh air, not as much dynamic movement due to training through some pretty severe biceps tendonitis, caused by a freakish non-accident accident.

And the result? My weight went up a couple of pounds, I was feeling discouraged and a bit blue, my colon wasn't working was well as before and the colon is a big problem area for me due to my old food habits.

Interesting difference in this set-back now from what it might have been way back when...I acknowledged what was going on and how I was feeling about it. I 'sat with it", if you will, dispassionately, almost as though it wasn't me, but someone else. I looked at the possible causes for the return of craving for sweets and what might be the solutions for what I believed to be the root issues. I ALLOWED MYSELF TO NOT BE PERFECT. No judgements as to my depth of character, strength of will, love of self. No blame on how I was reared, that I never got that pony I thought I wanted when I was eight, that I'm not 5'10". And not even a trace of fear that this was going to be the beginning of a spiraling back into the unhealthy life I had lived.

I charted a course, with the help of my coach/mentor: return to the food plan that is best for me, creates the most energy, makes me the happiest, and results in the body that works and looks the best. And move more! Get out in this beautiful Spring and soak up some Vitamin D, hear the birds chirp, feel the warm sun on my face, revel in the happiness that this kind of weather creates in me.

That was a week ago. Here are the results of just one week: two pounds less on the scale and better colon function. And you know what else? I have a quiet and renewed confidence that the old habits are gone because I have faced a familiar nemesis with a whole new set of tools in my toolbox. What joy and freedom this brings me!

Better yet? You, too, can learn how to live an empowered life! If that doesn't make you want to get up and dance, what would.