My new mantra

For 547 days I logged everything that passed through my mouth.  Every bite and every drink.  For the past 395 days I tracked every step I took and my sleep patterns.  I became a data source that could rattle carb to protein ratios, calorie counts of most foods, and I knew which walking route would take me to the precise distance I set out to walk.

I had tried to stop tracking awhile ago, but strangely it was a real internal struggle. I was not ready to give it all up.  I was reliant not on the food choices or walking, but the data. There was some sense of control in the form of accountability if I were to log what I ate and measure my steps.  At times my enjoyment of food and walking was altered greatly by the numbers and there was definitely not much pleasure. Going out to eat became a worry about what to eat. If I ever chose to sit with a book the creeping thoughts quickly came in to get up and move.

And then I go to Sedona.

The softening of Sedona and time away from the chaos of life often puts everything into a perspective. The stillness of the Sedona land and the wisdom of others reminded me of things I already knew.  Let go.  Become softer.  Pause.  Enjoy.  Be.  Tap into my female energy and soften my hard edges.  Create joy.  Giggle.  Explore being less focused on goals and outcomes and more focused on myself seeking joy.

Gulp.

The second evening in Sedona as I settled into bed I habitually reached from my bracelet that tracks steps and sleep to set it into the sleep mode.  Is it not ironic that the device was dead and completely unresponsive?

After further exploring of this crazy data tracking phenomenon I realized several things.  First, it was incredibly useful in my lifestyle change of eating healthy and moving, especially while I recovered from a very hard year physically.  Second, for a person with an additive personality the data became the addiction. Several days into my ‘rehab’, just hearing other people’s data about calories burned or distance moved, I felt like a smoker being told how great the cigarettes were.

So yesterday I found myself on a trail alone, not for the distance, but for the trail and my mantra came easily. I eat to nourish and I move to feel.

I eat to nourish and I move to feel.

I eat to nourish and I move to feel.

Thank you to wisdom of the rocks of Sedona, the wisdom of women, and mostly for the internal wisdom of me.   I am free.

 

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