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If you follow me on Instagram (pssst . . . follow me on Instagram), you’ve seen some of the things we’ll be tackling during the 3-month Freedom coaching course. This offering is for all ages, all genders, all spiritual paths.
~ If you feel like you’re constantly reacting to life instead of living it on purpose. ~ If you’re doing all the “things” but something is still missing. ~ If you don’t have the motivation or energy to do any of the things. ~ If you feel like it’s time to level up. Wherever you are, come as you are: FREEDOM ~ BODY, MIND & SPIRIT will explore the PROFOUND CONNECTION BETWEEN OUR PHYSICAL BODIES AND OUR SPIRITUAL LIVES. This program is designed to guide you on a transformative journey towards a more positive, loving and empowering relationship with yourself and help you cultivate greater freedom & spiritual alignment. Over the course of three months, we will delve into how our environments, beliefs, family dynamics and cultural messages have shaped how we see ourselves: our bodies, faces, capabilities and inherent worth. There will also be a FAITH component to this offering, as we explore how our thoughts and actions align with our spiritual values. To put it plainly, does our body mindset align with our relationship with our Creator, as we understand Him (to quote the recovery community)? This offering is for everyone ~ if you believe in a higher power and you’re ready to integrate your physical life with your spiritual path, this course is for you. The 3-month program includes: ~ WEEKLY E-MAIL RESOURCES: These will consist of videos; readings and prompts for reflection, meditation and prayer; deep dives into body image, aging and spirituality; and healthy lifestyle and mindset suggestions to support your journey. ~ 3 GROUP COACHING SESSIONS on Zoom: These interactive sessions will provide a supportive community environment for shared learning and growth. ~ 2 PRIVATE COACHING SESSIONS on Zoom: These confidential, personalized sessions will offer tailored guidance and support to address your specific needs and goals. This is something I need for myself, and I would LOVE for you to join me on this important journey of restoring the sacred connection between our physical bodies and who we were made to be. We start November 7th! I am turning 55 in a few weeks. It's a whole new box to check on certain forms . . . "55 or older." It doesn't really bother me. On some levels, I've always been perfectly happy to "age gracefully," especially after healing from a cancer diagnosis. My father, who has my same genetic mutations for cancer, somehow survived inoperable, stage-four cancer in his liver three years ago. I'm serious . . . three years ago, he was given a few months to live, and four months later, his cancer was gone. So recently, as we'd chat about increasing medical appointments, creaky joints and the other things that come with an aging body, he'd say, "Well, getting old sure beats the alternative." Like all survivors, we both had a whole new perspective on birthdays.
As many of you know, my father left this earth very suddenly and unexpectedly six weeks ago. Dad and I both assumed cancer would come back to get us in the end, so we were always trying to "kick the can down the road" with regular screenings and a healthy lifestyle. Alas, cancer did not get that opportunity with Dad. On Friday, March 28th, at 4:00 in the morning, his heart just stopped. He was healthy, his most recent scans were still perfectly clean, he'd been on a bike ride Thursday, he was good. Sure, he experienced some shortness of breath occasionally because his lungs took a little bit of a beating from the immunotherapy and chemotherapy that successfully treated his cancer, but overall he was a strong, slim 80-year old man who ate healthy and was more active than most 40-year old Americans. But over the years, he had replaced his knees a bunch of times, broken his neck skiing, he had AFib and, oh yeah, he'd survived "terminal" cancer. So perhaps, as my good friend Eva gently suggested, his heart just got tired. One minute we had him, the next we didn't. When I got the call that he wasn't breathing, they put the phone to his ear, and I sobbed and told him how much I love him. When the call ended, I hit the floor and begged God not to take him. As we sped to Richmond to meet his wife and ambulance at the hospital, my prayers changed. God, please do what is best for Dad. An hour later I said goodbye to him. My father would NOT have wanted to fade away, needing to be taken care of. He was proud and a little vain. I am like him that way, more on that in a moment (and the whole point of this post). Nevertheless, the grief has been overwhelming. I know I got 55 years with him, I know we all want to die in our sleep, I know I was blessed to have such a close relationship with him, to experience that kind of love, that kind of parent. I don't care, I still want to hang out with him. My mother had left this earth eleven months earlier. Hers was a years-long, agonizing physical and mental decline, and in the end, she was in a hospital bed unable to move on her own or swallow. She had a feeding tube that went directly into her stomach, she couldn't even handle water by mouth. My vibrant, stunningly beautiful, slightly crazy, force of nature mother had been reduced to a nearly vegetative state. It was heart-breaking. I had sat with her, holding her rigid arm which stuck straight up in the air. I had to lean way way in, my ear to her mouth, to talk with her, and what a talk we had. We sang and laughed and cried and forgave each other . . . our relationship had been fraught, and much forgiveness and grace were needed. She asked if she could leave, and I said, "Yes, Mom, go. Everyone's waiting for you. We are fine." The next morning, back at home, I stood at the counter with my black coffee. We all love coffee. I literally go to bed at night excited for the coffee I'll be having in the morning, and I inherited that from my parents. As I stood there, I thought, "God, my mother can't even have her beloved cup of coffee. Please bring her home. End her pain, end this prison she's in." She was gone a few weeks later. I imagine many experienced what I did when I received a breast cancer diagnosis eight years ago: I can't believe I ever cared about the cellulite on my thighs, my God, I love this body, please God, help me heal it. But, over time, that sharp, crystal-clear perspective fades. I find myself occasionally wrinkling my nose at my saggy knees, a function of fat being moved from one place to another to build new breasts. I scowl (ironically) at the wrinkles in my neck and face, some of it natural aging, some of it the result of elasticity that rapidly disappeared after I went through early, surgical menopause at age 47. I've started buying expensive serums. I tried Botox once, just a few vials, to "keep it natural." I might as well have lit $300 on fire, I metabolized it in less than a month. For a few brief weeks, I didn't have the number 11 between my eyebrows. It was back in no time. It seems like a lot of women around me are having things tightened or touched up, and I admit, I've felt envious at times. It's not something that's in the budget with two boys in out-of-state colleges, plus I've had eight necessary surgeries, it seems silly to do an unnecessary procedure or set of injections at this point. But still, the thoughts creep in. A few years ago, I was talking to my aunt, my father's sister. We are very close. And we were griping a little about aging and the effects of gravity. I mentioned I have my father's hands and forearms ~ strong, sun-damaged, very veiny. My aunt laughed, and said about my father, "Sometimes I look in the mirror, and my brother looks back at me!" Now that my father is gone ~ and understand that this was not just a close father-daughter relationship, but a deep friendship, for reasons too numerous to go into right now ~ my relationship with the mirror has totally changed. Actually, it's also a function of my mother being gone, for I love her more than ever ~ we're quite close now. When I see my darker skin (we're part Chinese, and I love the sun as much as my father did), the laugh lines that have migrated from the corners of my eyes down the sides of my cheeks, the tightness over my cheekbones, one slightly raised eyebrow, that little bump of scar tissue on my nose, the softness under my jaw line, the way my mouth turns down when I'm concentrating . . . I get to see Mom and Dad again. They look right out at me, and I'm filled with love and a little amusement. It's really quite amazing, isn't it? Oh how I loved my parents' faces. Now I get to see them again. Sometimes they whisper to me. A word of love. A bit of advice. A reminder to be kind to myself and others. So for now, all desire to change that face has disappeared. I wouldn't trade it for the world. Who knows if this feeling will last. If my fellow 50-somethings keep tuning things up, and I'm left standing by like a leather saddlebag, perhaps I'll feel differently. If there's one thing I've learned in 55 years, it's to avoid saying "I would never . . ." But for now, I love every single part of it. Are you following Wellness Feast on Instagram? That's where you can watch fun videos of everything from healthy meals to indulgent treats. Plus, occasionally I give you tips on how to help your dog's arthritis!
These are a fan favorite at my house, even with all the veggies, seeds, whole grain (or gluten-free) flour and more. Flax/chia is a go-to for me, for the fiber, healthy fat and phytoestrogens (which may be protective against certain cancers, like breast cancer, and helpful for menopause symptoms). I love this brand. Enjoy!
NICOLE’S PUMPKIN ZUCCHINI MUFFINS vegan (and gluten-free option included) www.wellnessfeast.com Makes 2 dozen muffins INGREDIENTS ¾ cup + 2 Tablespoons unsweetened applesauce 1 1⁄4 cups sugar 1 scant cup olive oil 1 ½ cups pumpkin purée 2 zucchinis, shredded 1⁄2 cup Carrington Farms Flax Chia Blend 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar 1 Tablespoon vanilla extract 2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour* 1 cup whole wheat or kamut flour* 1 1⁄2 teaspoons baking powder 2 teaspoons baking soda 1 1⁄2 teaspoons ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon salt (** NOTE: To make these gluten-free, use 3 cups of one-for-one gluten-free flour like Carrington Farms Gluten Free Flour With Fiber or King Arthur Gluten-Free All Purpose Flour) INSTRUCTIONS Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray two muffin pans with non-stick spray and/or use muffin liners (I lightly spray the liners too). Set aside. Stir together applesauce, sugar, olive oil, pumpkin, shredded zucchini, flax chia blend, vinegar and vanilla extract in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour(s), baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and salt. Stir dry ingredients into wet ingredients with a spatula until just combined. Spoon into prepared pans and bake for 24 - 27 minutes or until a knife or toothpick inserted into a muffin comes out clean. Allow to cool in pan for 10 minutes. Turn out onto a wire rack and allow to cool another 10 minutes before serving. I am coming to you from the haunting beauty of coastal South Carolina, a much needed vacation. Last night, I slept out on the screened balcony among the rustling branches of 30-foot magnolia trees and palmettos. As I stretched awake this morning, the birds and cicadas forming a symphonic 6:00 AM alarm clock, the sun insistent against one side of my face, I felt what can only be called adoration.
It reminded me of something I heard about a few years ago: sacred bookends. When the pandemic started, a close friend shared that every identical quarantine day was book-ended by coffee in the morning and wine in the evening. As delightful as that sounds, that's not what I'm talking about. I mean sacred bookends: a ritual in the morning and a ritual at night that touches a deeper part of you and acknowledges the miracle of our living selves. A whispered prayer, a short reading, a mindful stretch, a song, observing the very breath that keeps us alive. And it doesn't have to be involved or lengthy. During a fairly rough season in my life, I forced myself to say thank you every morning when my feet swung out of bed and touched the floor. Uttering those two words every day had the effect of refining how I navigated that season, and I now find myself saying thank you again for that very fact. I believe it is impossible to live well in a holistic way without first accessing that Something that lifts you out of ordinary life. For some, that is God, for others it may be earth, the universe or Source, or simply nature or love or the very existence of life. Perhaps it is a longing for something that can't be named. (If you want to read an interesting commentary on longing, see the quote I share below.) I encourage you to identify some sacred bookends and give them a trial run. Tweak them if you need to. Or let them evolve on their own. My bookends of today are certainly different from my bookends of only a few years ago. And sometimes I fail to do them, because I'm too tired, or I'm dragged into something more urgent first thing in the morning. Accept the inevitable imperfection of the practice, so that you can take pleasure in your sacred bookends and give them a chance to become as important to you as food, air and water. Now, here's that quote I promised you: “In speaking of this desire for our own far off country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you ~ the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and cannot tell, though we desire to do both. We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it, and we betray ourselves like lovers at the mention of a name. Our commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if that had settled the matter. Wordsworth’s expedient was to identify it with certain moments in his own past. But all this is a cheat. If Wordsworth had gone back to those moments in the past, he would not have found the thing itself, but only the reminder of it; what he remembered would turn out to be itself a remembering. The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshipers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.” ~ C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, 1941 Except this isn't about our history, it's about our health. Eat up! OCTOBER 💕 For my fellow survivors out there, way to go! For my clients and all the others still in it, keep going ~ with your screenings, with your medical team, with second opinions, with treatment, with genetic testing, in the kitchen, with alternative modalities, on your yoga mat, at the gym, in nature, in bed, in prayer, with your people. You can heal ~ you got this! #knowyourrisk #breastcancer #screening #selfexam #breastcancerawareness #eat #move #heal #rest #play #pray #mindfulness #mammogram #survivor
Please join us in beautiful Oakton, Virginia for an evening of mindfulness, festive food, yoga, community and a wine tasting. Reserve your spot HERE. I can't wait to usher in my favorite season with you!
Summer is a great time to host a wellness class, workshop or retreat at your home, workplace or community event. I have spoken and facilitated wellness events at local companies, law firms, churches, community organizations and private events. Contact me for more information and pricing.
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