All posts tagged: Energy

Night Owl: On Keeping a Teenager’s Schedule in This Grown-Up Life

JULIET: Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yonder pomegranate-tree: Believe me, my love, it was the nightingale. ROMEO: It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die. Act III, Scene V is one of the loveliest parts of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet: For one thing, the teen lovers are awakening after their first and only night as a married couple, after their sexy secret wedding in Friar Laurence’s cell. For another, they make arguing about whether or not it’s time to get up sound desperately romantic. It’s romantic to sleep in, everyone! Or so I argue, anyway. I’ve been a night owl for 36 years and counting. [pullquote]I try to float …

Why Healing Touch is Better Than a Grilled Cheese Sandwich

When I tell someone I have a healing touch practitioner, I still have the impulse to apologize — to feel some misplaced, new age shame for saying my magnetic energy fields need realignment, or even to speak of having them at all. It’s silly. You’d think that after 30-odd years at the spiritual salad bar — self-help books, yoga, rosaries, meditation and finally the path of sobriety — that I’d just come out with whatever I’m doing now to keep myself in check with no concern about the possible woo-woo factor. I send my dog to day care, for God’s sake. What kind of shame about my life choices can I possibly have left? A little, it’s true. Deep inside of this post-millennial searcher is the voice of the Greatest Generation that helped to raise me, that says — with love — that a grilled cheese sandwich, a beer and maybe a movie will fix what ails me, so stop my bitching. But that’s been proven disastrously wrong. So I’ve learned that when the magnetic …

Silencing Your Screaming Mimi: 4 Ways to Quiet Your Inner Critic

Recently, I had a massage with a therapist I’d never met before. After I arranged myself facedown on her table, Denise (who is thankfully a petite woman) climbed aboard, sitting atop my backside with her knees digging into my glutes. Denise read my reaction, which was silence, as permission to push deeper, shifting her weight from side to side to accentuate the pressure on each cheek. “Wow,” she said. “You have a high pain threshold. Most people scream when I do this.” Later, she worked on my neck, shoulders and spine, then pressed her fingers into the top of my skull. It was then that she apparently determined that I was screaming…on the inside. “Hmmm,” she murmured thoughtfully. “You might want to think about stopping all the yelling you’ve got going on inside your body.” Did Denise possess some sort of X-ray hearing? Because while her assessment might seem nutty, she was exactly right: Denise had run smack into my inner banshee who was, as usual, roaring at the top of her lungs. [pullquote]Mimi is …

I Hated Running… Until I Didn’t

Channel your inner Sophia Petrillo and picture this: Lincoln, Nebraska, 1989. A bookish middle schooler, flat of chest and round of belly, spends her summer secretly devouring The Clan of the Cave Bear novels and trying desperately to manipulate the TV antenna into delivering grainy episodes of General Hospital. Swimming? Only if someone offered a ride to the pool. Biking? Just to the gas station for 25-cent Little Debbie zebra cakes. Weepy anticipating of autumn, and school, and being picked last in gym class? Daily. Twenty-five years later, I remain an unlikely spokesperson for running. I should note that, mentally, I’m Flo-Jo. I fire off more emails before 9 a.m. than most people do all day, and as I feed my infant son intermittently throughout the night, my brain sprints around an invisible track, by turns solving global crises and menu planning for my family of picky eaters. [pullquote]I discovered the unlikely psychological alchemy of energy created by energy expenditure. The more I ran, the more energy I had for running[/pullquote] However, in the words …

Margit’s Note: Sun Salutation

Is that? Could it be? I squint at the light streaming through my window. Nope. Not true. I don’t believe you, Outside. Here on the East Coast, we’ve been pummeled and frozen for months by the snow. I’ve barely left the apartment. I’ve worn — and only worn — the same pair of slush-splattered snow boots for six weeks running. During a two-full-days-trapped-inside stint, my food source devolved into a fridge scavenger hunt for leftover takeout rice reanimated with a little hot sauce. So I remain, a slug. But this sun… could it be? I slide out of bed, press play on the coffee and fall onto the couch for a five-minute Candy Crush break (I know). I could go back to sleep, but I have to leave for a meeting in an hour. My husband waves goodbye and before I can shuffle to my first cup, the door bell rings. Huh? I’m not expecting any packages. A cheery voice pipes through the intercom. “It’s Kimberly!” SHIT. My yoga teacher. I’d completely forgotten she was …