As the new year dawns late tonight, it’s time to clear the plate and start fresh. A fresh start is always welcome to those over the age of 10. Take a look at what has worked this year; the blessings accrued and how you contributed to such an outcome. Then what’s next is up for grabs. “What do I want” being the most noteworthy consideration.

What desires will get addressed this year? When 2011 rolls around how do you and I want our lives to be different than today? What will it take to make that happen? How do we stop ourselves from realizing our dreams?

Join me tomorrow at 11:00 CST for “Mindful Connections” on KDRPlive.org as we continue our discussion on the process of change and how to realize those changes in the new year.

Happy New Year!!! May this be the best one yet.

It all comes down to what it is we choose. A frighteningly powerful statement to be sure. So much easier to have some great object of blame for life’s tradgedies. But I’m convinced that particular school of thought has more to do with denial that true gentle, flowing progress. Ease sometimes requires walking through the fire of discomfort to discover safety in the unpracticed.

Creating lifestyle changes are on every New Year’s resolution list I’ve ever made or seen. After all, what is a new resolution if not to change to some condition more desirable whether by addition or deletion of particular qualities or behaviors?

TUNE IN TODAY AT 11:00 (CST) TO KDRP 99.9 FM OR STREAM LIVE and ARCHIVED PROGRAMS AT KDRPlive. Org.

DARE TO BE WELL
Fostering Health in an Age of Degeneration

An unprecedented rise in degenerative disease, record breaking statistics of obesity and diabetes and dismal forecasts of improvement along with insurance debates puts Health Care in daily news and medical journals alike. The fresh, bright voice of health scientist, Dr. Deborah Kern is a most welcome respite. A world re-renown health scientist and internationally acclaimed speaker, Dr. Deborah Kern will offer her expertise to guests in a morning of health education, mind-body movement and empowered support on September 26th from 9:00 to 1:00 at Dougherty Arts Center.

Dr. Kern’s daring mission was initially inspired by groundbreaking research in which she showed that mind/body integrated forms of exercise reduce anxiety more effectively than conventional ones. From the Costa Rican rainforest to the ashrams of India she has pursued her passion of creating health, integrating balance and taking a stand for joy; living it as well as teaching it.

Challenging our health care system is the dramatic rise of obesity and diabetes. In the U.S. and Canada, diabetes has increased more than 500% during just the last generation. More than seventy percent of adults and more than thirty percent of our children are considered to be either overweight or obese. The rate of obesity has tripled in this country in the past thirty years. Even more alarming is the fact that the Center for Disease Control (CDC) has projected that one-third of our children born after the year 2000 will become diabetic. Finding healthier lifestyles is crucial.

There is hope! Several factors influence improved health significantly.  Dr. Deborah Kern is quite familiar with these and beautifully embodies all aspects of a healthy lifestyle while inspiring others to do the same as she teaches them how.  Formerly the Executive Director of Lifestyle Enrichment at Lake Austin Spa Resort, Dr. Kern is also the author of Everyday Wellness for Women and co-author of Create the Body Your Soul Desires: The Friendship Solution to Weight, Energy and Sexuality.  Her academic pursuits, a B.A. in Nursing from Vanderbilt, an M.B.A. from UTAustin and a Ph.D. in Health Sciences from Texas Woman’s University, combined with  her Nia Black Belt and certifications in Integral Hatha Yoga and Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy reflect her qualifications and enthusiastic leadership of those seeking resources for integrating great health as a lifestyle.

Her public appearance in Austin is sponsored by Team Northrup.. A group, anchored by Dr. Christine Northrup, that seeks to promote health and wellness. Dr. Northrup says, “True health is only possible when we understand the unity of our minds, emotions, spirits and physical bodies.”   Dr. Deborah Kern understands this well and shares it bountifully.

More information on Dr. Kern’s presentation is available at http://www.daretobewell@teamnorthrup.com

Statistics source:  Healthy for Life Newsletter, July/August 2009 Vol. 6 No. 4

     Resistance! What an almighty struggle this double-edged sword poses for me. What is this I am fighting and why do I continue to put forth so much energy against myself in so many ways?

     Fear — that ever lurking primitive presence that seems so remote from the elaborate structures of this modern day. There are no tigers in my back yard, or snakes about my feet. Yet, life comes complete with that protective device deep inside the brain capable of generating our experience of fear. In that way, we continue the lineage of those who have come before us throughout all of time. Foes today don’t seem as obvious as historical threats, especially from this air-conditioned palace of hindsight, but our perceived threat of annihilation continues.

     I hate being scared. It scares me. To feel as if my existence is on the brink of extinction is frightening by design. And, as life-saving as that feeling is when faced with extreme threat, it is unwelcome today. In this time and place the threat is more pervasive, less specific, and on-going rather than distinct. No obvious foe on which to focus my generated energies.

     I hate being scared. It scares me. When I allow the physical accoutrements of life to represent my wholeness I feel a frisson of fear that is difficult to withstand. All my attention is claimed by this unwelcome thrill that I didn’t consciously request. I resist plugging my sensory ears to the mega-decibels of fright. The friction increases and not only can I hardly bear it, I fear, too, that I am unbearable to others — if true, I am alone in this misery.

     To tolerate the pain, I must return to small basic steps. What else is there to do, but go back to the beginning and review. My 17-year-old’s advice, “Breathe mommy, you’ll feel better. Really.” Advice worthy of regard.

     Pulling my attention inward, noticing I can still breathe; that I do have this safe, familiar ground — the rising and falling of my breath — reminding me that I am. This reassurance taken, the realization that inconvenienced is what I am. My efficient, predictable life is interrupted, which is about as welcome as an overflowing toilet. And, just like that plumbing predicament, must be attended to directly, otherwise the problem grows with each gallon.

     Frenzied as I am in my excited fright, how can I stand still and simply breathe? Running and breathing may be a better option. Yet, breathe I must.

     Plumbing is a skill I’ve highly resisted in my life just like fear. Yet Life returns me to the novitiate repeatedly. So, why am I so scared? This is but one more repeat, one more review, really no different. Will I make it? Can I endure it? The only report card here is my judgment. There is no failure, only the question of whether or not I will face that which I resist or deny its presence.

     My return to “freshman” status, this toss into the unknown, reminds me that I must constantly change and trust my desire to participate in my life no matter what curriculum faces me: fear or plumbing.

     So here I go to fix the toilet…to stay single-minded on my plumbing problem, immediate, obvious and tangible. The goal: to resist being distracted by my disastrous fantasies and keep breathing – all this simply from opening the mail.

     “Practice dying frequently” is family therapist Carl Whitaker’s advice on living fully. Throughout the 25 years that quote has been posted on my bulletin board, I’ve revised my interpretation of it from time to time. After having a foot in the grave, I’ve revised it once again.
     Awaking from a coma, in a foreign hospital, disoriented, I was reminded I had a physical body. Beeping monitors and flashing screens reflected the data of my existence. Large windows permitted visual access to sterile hospital personnel rather than earthy greenery or even polluting traffic. Oh yes, I had a body, though something had gone wrong.
     Something had been wrong for some time, but I didn’t see it. Denial is powerful. Could I have known before drastic measures were required? I don’t know, but I didn’t. That’s for sure.
     In retrospect many clues stand out. Hindsight is so acute. Didn’t I know I was miserable, or, at the very least, uncomfortable? My friends did. One gently chided me, “You think you know yourself so well.” Running my business and household, I stayed busy pushing on to the next day. Forsaken was the notion of anything being different, more or better than today. If some part of me knew, the rest of me was effectively rationalizing my misery and I plodded along, enduring. Not until there was data strewn around in lights and bytes, tubes and catheters did I snap to.
     Arousing to consciousness, my first waking thought, “Who knows I’m here?” While I could see other humans through the portal, I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me. Do we exist if no one knows us? Existential relief arrived as my sister entered the ICU gowned in paper. “What are you doing here?” I asked. She looked at me like I had completely lost my mind, which for a while I guess I had.
     Does it require a dramatic hit by a virtual 2×4 to wake us up to what is precious? Maybe so. Painful consequences of critical events is a common impetus for the people in my life, both personally and professionally. An urgent need to share, to be witnessed by others, a need to be known and to recognize ourselves in the knowing. Those events, whether psychologically instigated or physically demanded, create distress. Are we civilized humans so thickly armored against the magnitude of stimuli from media, modernity and mama, that our own senses filter out the personal, physical and psychological indicators of trouble? I was. Only when the choice was as basic as “do it or die” was I able to dissemble the protective devices and face, head on, that which I dreaded the most.
     I was the last to know how close I came to having both feet in the grave. Fortunately, with the help of those who “know me into existence,” I pulled out the one foot I’d planted, for a while at least. That dress rehearsal for dying has provided valuable practice. Dying to the familiar, dying to misery, dying to knowing or thinking I do. Practice, practice, practice dying. In return, living is more brilliant, and each day an extra one. Thank you, Carl.

Here it is the end of May.
Class is out; the stage crossed.
Awards bestowed.
Anthems played.

All in past tense.
To come are brides to be kissed.
Father’s to be honored.
Flares to fire off.

And here I am in-between.
Watching the sunset
Exhaling, then,
What comes next, the inhale.

Somewhere betwixt back then, just moments ago,
And when, in just a little while, there am I.
Adjusting to what will never be again
Saying goodbye.

Merging into the next;
Staying open to the inhale
Taking it all in
Never to be again.

Tasting the blend of the fresh
Mixed with savorings of the freshly finished.
Constantly taking it all in.
Nourished by the moment.

     When I was a very young child I remember being told that I “HAD to share”…. even when I didn’t want to. Regardless of my own inclinations to hold onto my precious possessions, my parents knew best, of that I am sure. So, sharing was the social requirement. Yes, I was very young.
     It was when my children were of a similar age that I realized that “having” comes before “sharing”. While eating dinner at a restaurant one evening (can’t really call it dining with a three-year-old tot in tow), my aunt and I were catching up on family news; my daughter, Kate*, was flirting with the child in the booth behind us. As the neighbor child went reaching for Kate’s new toy, my precious little girl loudly proclaimed, “MINE.”
     That response was obviously contrary to southern etiquette required for properly raised children in my family. My aunt spoke up while I was still observing the wants of two youngsters vying for the object of desire. With a smile on her face, she insisted Kate share her toy, to which my lovely child, just as adamantly replied, “MINE”. Recognizing that this could quickly become a clash of wills with volume, I stepped up to the parenting plate.
     “It’s okay,” I said to Kate, “You don’t have to share.” Again, not a response common to the well bred according to accepted family protocols, my aunt being the reigning authority at the table. I could tell this not because I’d read that book of etiquette, but due to the mild shock on my aunt’s face and her flustering for words with which to offer me correction. But then, it’s also not the best of manners to dress-down your niece in a public venue, either.
     I looked at my dear aunt and said what seemed plain to me, having lost my copy of the Rules for Contemporary Southern Propriety. Knowing my daughter to be a generous child, and watching her in her negotiations with her new acquaintance, I remarked, “She cannot share until she has an experience of it being hers, owning it. It’s so new, it’s not real to her yet, her bond is too fragile to risk breaking by letting it go. When she’s lived with it a bit, she’ll be able to offer it to others and still know it belongs to her. Just, not yet.”
     Everyone calmed down. My aunt was reassured, my child was reassured and our little family concluded a successful mealtime experience in a public venue without taking center stage. Yippeeee!!!
     Over the past 15 years “having to share” has continued to evolve to a meaning revised from that which I held as a youngster. I haf’ta share, not as proper etiquette or in compliance with family rules of order, but simply because I must. Others have asked with various voices, and at this point, I’m happy to share what I have. Hopefully my musings will find their way to being useful. So, as I continue to practice life, the Life Practice blog is launched. A canvas to paint, with colors common to us all, the pictures I’ve come to claim as “mine.”
     We’ll see what happens.

* After spending years teaching my children to protect their identity on-line, my daughter has expressed her desire that I not use her real name. What can I say? So I’ve opted to use the name I had planned on calling her, but that a more fitting one came along before I could implement my plan. Here’s my chance. Those who know her will recognize her in spirit if not her nomen.

Stay tuned! More to come soon…