Just wanted to come on here to say that I moved my blog to my website www.daniellepatarazzi.com. Go there to read my latest blog posts.

Ciao,

Dani

Final Day - Miraval

I think today was the most relaxing day of my trip to Miraval. No challenge courses. No jumping off from high places. No horse telling me what my issues are. I went on a morning hike in the Sonoma Desert, played a little tennis, took a photography class, and went to a gratitude meditation.

It's been a life altering week for me. Key take-aways:

1. Get out of my own head; stop over thinking or over analyzing. Just do it.
2. I don't have a fear of heights. I have a fear of being exposed and vulnerable. And it's perfectly okay, even healthy, to be exposed and vulnerable.
3. Just let go and take that first step.
4. Trust myself and my body.
5. The fear is not real.

I wanted to share my experiences with you so that maybe you can learn something about the stories that are going on in your head and how they're stopping you from moving forward. I hope my journey has inspired you to try something different and really PUSH yourself out of that comfort zone, even if it means being scared.

I'll be back to Miraval soon. There are still some challenge courses I want to take. Next stop: Phoenix to spend time with some dear friends of mine 

Hugs and kisses from Tucson.

Miraval - Day 4

My final challenge here at Miraval: Quantum Leap. I climbed a 25-foot telephone poll and stood on a platform that was no larger than a 12-inch pizza. Oh, and it spun. So it was like standing on a Lazy Susan. Of course I was harnessed and belayed, but I still had nothing to hold on to. Originally I had thought the challenge was jumping off. But the challenge is actually getting up on that tiny platform. I wasn't sure how it was possible, but as I climbed the ladder, my decision was to not over-think it, and just do it. Because the more I'd thought about it, the more fear would set in. Take a look at the video to see how I did.

One of the other reasons I chose Miraval was for the equine therapy courses. Today I took a course called It's Not About The Horse instructed by Wyatt Webb. Google him to learn more about him. He's very interesting.

The task in the equine therapy course was to go up to a horse and squeeze it's leg to get it to raise its hoof so you can clean it with a pick. Sounds easy enough. But what some people may not realize is that horses pick up on your energies. So any shit going on in your head, the horse is going to notice, and he will not lift his hoof.

When Wyatt first explained the task, I felt confident. After all, I'd walked across a log 25 feet in the air, jumped off a 12-inch Lazy Susan from 25 feet in the air, and swung from 35 feet. I was feeling confident. But as I listened to others in the class uncover their struggles, I began to wonder? What's my issue? Can I really do this? What am I afraid of? Failure, rejection, and being exposed were a few things that entered my mind. Plus I was anxious and curious. What was Wyatt going to force me to uncover?

So when it was my turn, of course the damn horse didn't lift it's hoof. Because by then I had all these stories floating around my head. Then this other guy took his turn. I don't remember what his issue was, but Wyatt talked him through it, then he went over to the horse and succeeded in getting him to raise his hoof. The man then came back to me and handed me the pick. So here's what went through my mind in the next split second: Why is he handing the pick to me? Shouldn't he give it back to Wyatt so Wyatt can ask me what I'm thinking and what I'm fearing and blah blah blah? Are we doing this right? Blah blah blah.

Finally I thought, "Just shut up and do it." I grabbed the pick walked over to the horse, pinched his leg, and he raised his hoof.

So my key take a way was: Get out of my own head and just do it. Which, interestingly, was what I was feeling at the start of the class before all that stuff entered my mind. I've got to stop all the analytical stories that run through my mind every day, and just go for it.

Profound.

Phew. That's it for the challenges. Tomorrow, my last day at Miraval, is going to be a cake walk. Hugs and kisses from Tucson!

Dani on Quantum Leap at Miraval

www.youtube.com

I did it!!!

Miraval - Day 3

I'm not even sure where to begin. So I accomplished Out on the Limb early this morning, which I didn't expect to do. Two steps. That's all I asked myself to accomplish. And I made it all the way across. It was so overwhelming I was crying when I get to the end (you couldn't see it in the video :-) ) It was exhilarating and terrifying and challenging. I was saying all sorts of meditations and chants and prayers while I was up there!

Afterward I knew I had accomplished my fear of letting go. The climb was scary too, but I think I got that down. It's the letting go and taking that first step. At the end I told myself I can accomplish anything: succeeding in business, in writing, and in love.

If you missed the video, check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKB5UPvkrk0

Well, as if walking along a pole 25 feet in the air without any support wasn't enough, I was talked into doing another challenge called Face to Face. It involved climbing up that damn 25 foot poll again, but this time I was joined by a partner, Christine, whom I just met last night. Together we stood on separate cables a foot apart and had to hold on to each other for support as we took steps across the cable. Yes, before I climbed that ladder I was asking myself, "Why do you keep doing this, Dani?!"

In this case I was conquering the fear of failing. Since I had made it across the poll on Out on the Limb, I didn't want to disappoint myself by failing at Face to Face. Christine and I relied on each other, coached each other, and took three terrifying steps - a huge accomplishment! Afterward, I was a little disappointed that I felt I lost control. But I learned that it's okay to lose control sometimes. You just need to go with it and see what happens. (Check out the video of Christine and I doing our challenge below.)

It was an emotionally exhausting day. I ended it with a double limoncello. Hugs and kisses from Tucson!

Dani & Christine on Face to Face at Miraval - Part 2

Day 2 - Miraval

The best thing I did today was the activity I was fearing the most called Swing and a Prayer. Five brave women and I sat in a circle with our instructor named Lewis Beach (isn't that a great name? I think I'll use that as a character name in my next book!). He asked us to think about something we wanted to release. I told him I had a slight fear of heights that I wanted to overcome. He told me that I didn't have a fear of heights, but a fear of being exposed and vulnerable. We don't need to conquer our fears; we just need to learn how to handle them.

Then as each one of us took our turns, we were tightened into harnesses, climbed up a 10-foot ladder, hooked on to a cable, then pulled up to 35 feet in the air while dangling. Lewis encouraged us to hang out up there, take in the scenery, think about our goals and what we wanted to release. Then when we were ready, we let go and swooshed through the air. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Afterward, we sat in a circle again and discussed what we were feeling. Two important points that Lewis wanted us to learn from the experience: Whatever we were releasing was still going to creep back into our lives again at times. And when that happens, he wants us to think of that one moment, right before we let go, right before we swooshed through the air, and how empowered we felt. He also pointed out that even though we each had our own private moment to release during our turns, we weren't alone. The entire activity was a team exercise. When we need to release, we are never alone. We have our family, our friends, our journal, our pets. All there to help us get through our adversities.

Click on the link below to see me swing through the air! :-0

I also took an aerial yoga class. Picture a small silk hammock just big enough to sit in, hanging from the ceiling. We did all the traditional yoga poses using the silk. Now I want one in my home!

I went to another session with Tejpal (she was the one who taught us how to use our intuition yesterday). This session was about finding our life mission by discovering what brings joy to our lives. Of course, writing entered my mind. But that doesn't always bring me joy - sometimes it brings frustration. However, during a meditation at the end of the class I actually thought of an interesting character to add to my next novel.

Finally, I finished my long enlightening day by attending a session called Calm The Mind, Open the Heart where we used Tibetan singing bowls to calm our minds, center our hearts and reconnect our bodies to its wisdom of self-healing :-)

I'm exhausted. Hugs and kisses from Tucson!

http://youtu.be/zURjov7BT6A

Miraval - Day 1

After arriving, having a quick lunch and settling into my room, I walked around the resort and wondered, "Now what?"

I went to a session on how to listen to your intuition. Key take away was that it's okay to be clueless. Don't expect to have all the answers. Take a breath before responding, and let you're intuition lead you. The more clueless you are, the more insights you gain.

We then paired up with someone we didn't know and exchanged a personal item. I gave a woman named Sophia my heart ring. She gave me her scarf. Then we meditated and let our intuition speak to us about the other person. I told Sophia her scarf made me think of a cloud, like I was floating. I sensed she was opening herself to new experiences. She sensed in me that I was light, playful and childlike (she thought I was really young - haha). I told her that I was just getting my second wind in life 

After that I booked it to the Agave Center for an evening chakra meditation, then back to the main building for dinner with a bunch of interesting ladies that are all here on their own adventures. 

Did you know you could LIVE at Miraval?! Villas and casitas are for sale. Something to thing about

Thank You, Michael

It’s already been two weeks since we lost Michael. It still seems surreal that he’s gone. It all went so quickly. I’m still trying to figure things out.

Michael had been at Misericordia since he was two years old. So in a sense I didn’t grow up with him. He wasn’t a daily physical presence like my parents, or my older brother Chris, or my friends. In the beginning my visits were weekly. Every Sunday morning we’d drive down to see him. As an adult living on my own in the city, my visits were less frequent. Maybe once a month or so.

I’m not sure when it will become real for me. Maybe it’ll be real for my parents when they wake up on Sunday mornings with no place to go. It’ll feel real for Chris every morning when he realizes he doesn’t have to go to Mikey’s to give him his therapeutic massage. When will it be real for me? Still trying to figure that out.

I was eleven when Michael was born. What should have been a happy time in our lives quickly turned into a dark period for all of us. We all suffered in our own unique way. I suffered in silence. After being the youngest for so long, I was now the middle child. When I was little, before Michael was born, I was loud, rambunctious, outgoing, controlling, a bit whiny, and sometimes a brat. I was the youngest, after all, with an older brother who loved to terrorize me.

After Michael’s birth I realized I had to change. My parents had so much on their plate to worry about, I didn’t want them to worry about me. I had to grow up and stay out of trouble as much as I could. Michael’s birth had such an impact on me, I often wonder who I’d be if he’d never been born. Some of you may have noticed that I like to keep to myself sometimes; I don’t like to be a bother to anyone. That’s all because of Michael. That outgoing and controlling side still comes out, though. It’s nice to know a piece of pre-Michael me is still there.

Chris and I each gave our own eulogy at the service. At first neither of us were sure we’d make it through, but we got up there and said what needed to be said. I asked the question I was sure everyone was asking: Why did God let Michael suffer for 28 years? What was the purpose?

I like to think that Michael’s purpose was to teach us something. If we should learn one thing from Michael it was his overall outlook on life. He was always such a happy boy no matter what he was going through. He would smile and laugh at random. Even during his sickest moments he would still crack a grin through the oxygen mask. It really makes us think twice before we complain about something trivial. If Michael can make it through such challenging times, why can’t we?

I’ve been walking a little slower these days, staring like a zombie, damp eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Michael was a silent presence in our lives for 28 years. Now he’s silent in another way, and I struggle to understand it all.

Thank you, Michael, for all that you've given us, and all that you sacrificed.

I've Been Waiting for Something to Come Along

Being out of a full-time job for almost a year now, I was going to have to find something to earn more money than what my occasional copywriting and proofreading projects were bringing in. But the thought of going back to a permanent corporate job wasn’t appealing. The thought of going through the interview process for the zillionth time was so unmotivating, I can honestly say I didn’t even make much of an effort looking for job openings. I relied on my own contacts, networking, and current clients to bring in some dollars. But I wasn’t going to be able to live off of that alone.

I love not working a 9-5 job anymore. I love rolling out of bed at 8 a.m., grabbing my laptop and heading to one of the many cafés in my neighborhood to spend a few hours writing. When I was working 9-5, I used to envy the people I’d see leisurely lounging at Starbucks, typing on their laptops, surfing the net, as I waited impatiently in line to get my tall latte before rushing to the office. Now I am one of those people. Have been since June 29, 2009. I thought I’d get bored, but I haven’t. I made some new friends who also work at jobs with flexible hours. We occasionally meet up during the week to go for breakfast or to the beach or to a matinee. I go out at night to networking events and fundraisers, not having to worry about getting up early the next day. As much as I liked the steady paycheck that the 9-5 job brought, I quickly got used to the life of leisure, and decided to find a way to continue to live it.

Ideas came and went as I thought of my next move: Maybe I can get a part-time job at Borders. I can be around books all day long. But working retail? No. Out of the question. Maybe I can find a job in social media marketing, since, I admit, I spend a lot of my free time on Facebook, Twitter and Foursquare. Or maybe I should try one of those multi-level marketing companies like Mary Kay or Avon. There are hundreds out there, from cosmetics, to jewelry, to baskets, to home décor, and even sex toys. Yes, I did consider becoming a consultant for a sex toy MLM. But I realized the repeat customer rate had to be low. I mean, come on, you buy a vibrator and you’re done, right? No, if I were to join an MLM it had to be for products that consumers will come back for.

I didn’t worry about my job situation. I told my friends something would come along at the right time that will be the right fit. Something that I won’t have to give up my writing career for. I was confident fate would take its course.

It did one night in April when I attended a fundraiser at Martini Park (RIP). I met Lindsay Madison, another writer. We hit it off and decided to meet for coffee a couple weeks later. It was there that I first learned about Arbonne, an MLM company that sells vegan botanically-based personal care products. Lindsay told me about her job as a District Manager, how it allows her to pursue her writing and acting passion. At first I was skeptical. But she gave me some samples to try, and I went home and did extensive research on the company and products. I talked to friends who’d used Arbonne products and loved them. I thought, what have I got to lose?

So last week I officially joined Arbonne as a consultant. Other than the initial skepticism while I was learning about the opportunity, when it came time to sign on the dotted line, I didn’t have any doubts. This was the something I’ve been waiting for. The something that will earn me money selling products I believe in while still focusing on my writing career. The something that will let me keep my flexible work schedule so I can keep going to cafés with my laptop.

I’m ready to start this new adventure and see where it leads me. So here I go.

And what kind of consultant would I be if I didn’t do a bit of shameless self-promotion? Visit my Arbonne site at daniellepatarazzi.myarbonne.com.

Lost Finale: My mind is still spinning

My mind is still buzzing from last night’s Lost finale. Even after I finally shut off the TV at midnight, after six hours of Lost-saturated television, my mind still raced, keeping me awake until 2 a.m. pondering. I’m attempting to clear my mind by spilling my thoughts here. SPOILER ALERT: Duh. Don’t read on if you haven’t seen the finale yet.

I had my doubts leading up to the finale. This whole season had story lines and characters going in circles, leaving me more confused than ever. I didn’t have high expectations that all questions were going to be answered in the end. And they weren’t. But it wouldn’t be Lost if the producers didn’t leave some things open for our own interpretation.

My theory: Everything that happened on the island was real. It wasn’t hell. They weren’t dead. It wasn’t limbo. Instead, the flash sideways revealed this season was Jack’s purgatory; he entered it on the season’s first episode when the plane hit turbulence but didn’t crash. As his father told him, all his friends were at the church to meet him. They were all dead. But some died before Jack, some died long after. There is no sense of time in the afterlife. They all reunited to welcome Jack home.

But.

If Jack was in purgatory, doesn’t that mean he was dead? Doesn’t that mean he died in the plane crash along with everyone else? Maybe it was fate showing him what his life would’ve been like if the plane never crashed. Maybe it was his soul not accepting his fate yet. Maybe the flash sideways wasn’t really running parallel to the life on the island.

Why did some of the survivors get to be at the church to welcome Jack, but not others? Where was Michael? As Harold Perrineau confirmed on Jimmy Kimmel Live, Michael’s soul was stuck on the island. Why? Because he killed Libby and Anna Lucia for his own selfish reasons? But wasn’t he redeemed by trying to keep the bomb on the freighter from detonating, giving his friends time to escape on the helicopter?

I was also wondering about Mr. Eko. I thought he was a fascinating character in the earlier seasons. How come we hadn’t seen him since the smoke monster killed him?

Maybe, as Showbiz Tonight's Marquee Blog states, some of the survivors weren’t ready to “let go.” It was all about letting go in the end.

So why didn’t Ben want to let go? Why was he at the church? Maybe he was trapped in his own purgatory, and he showed up at the church to apologize to John and to give Hurley a chance to thank him. Or maybe he just wasn’t dead yet.

I jumped on Twitter and Facebook after the show ended to see everyone’s reactions. They were mixed, but mostly in favor of the show’s finale. I think it was beautifully done. My expectations weren’t set very high, so I was able to enjoy it for what it was.

Lost was a great show; smartly written, produced and acted. The complete series comes out on DVD in August. I’m thinking of getting it and watching the whole darn thing over again. Just to see what I missed.

Topless in Miami

I got home from my vacation in Miami on Tuesday night, and the highlight of the vacation was definitely the liberating experience I had on the beach.

I’ve always wanted to go to a topless beach but thought the only chance I’d have was during a trip to Europe. If my family weren’t with me, of course. So when I found out that Miami Beach had the only topless beaches in America, I knew it was my chance to give it a shot.

So there we were on the beach across from our hotel on Ocean Drive. I’d told my friend Lisa beforehand that the beaches were topless, and that I was planning on taking advantage. She agreed to try it too. “But you have to go first,” she said.

On our first full day in Miami the sky was partly cloudy, the temp in the upper 70s.

“Is this a topless beach?” I whispered to the man we rented lounge chairs from.

“Yes, all the beaches on Miami Beach are topless. But,” he added, holding his index finger up, “just the tops. Not the bottoms.”

We parked ourselves in the middle of a sparsely populated beach. I looked around at the other sunbathers, but didn’t see any topless women.

“We’ll ease into it,” Lisa said as she spread sun block on her legs.

For an hour or so we relaxed, bathing ourselves in the warm sun that we had so little of in Chicago. I thought about our goal ahead, and how the society we were raised in affects it. I’ve always believed America is a little too puritan when it comes to nudity and should adopt a more relaxed view of the human body, like in Europe.

It got me thinking of Janet Jackson’s Nipplegate from the 2004 Super Bowl. Her nipple-shielded breast flashed for nine-sixteenths of a second (according to Wikipedia), and the country still freaked out. I wonder how many children became more intrigued and ran to their computers to re-watch the incident over and over. Not because it happened in the first place, but just because their parents turned it into hysteria.

I watched as paunchy hirsute men walked around the beach shirtless. If we have to look at that without being offended, why can’t I, a trim, fit woman, be free?

There were some kids frolicking in the water several feet away. I wondered if we should keep our tops on because of them. But, I decided it wasn’t my problem. They weren’t my kids, and it wasn’t my responsibility to explain nudity to them and the laws of Miami Beach.

“She’s topless,” Lisa whispered, gesturing to the woman behind us. We glanced at her as she sat with her husband, basking her bare torso in the sun, conversing with him as if it was no big deal. Was it?

Okay, I thought. Here it goes. I untied the back of my bikini top, lifted the halter strap over my head. “Just do it,” Lisa said. I pulled off the top and tossed it aside. Lisa did the same. I lay back down, closed my eyes and just let the sun beam down on me.

“Are you going to take your top off? Why not?” A guy nearby asked his girlfriend after he noticed our liberation. But she didn’t. And I have to ask: Why not?

We spotted a few other topless women on the beach. It doesn’t surprise me that a majority of them kept their tops on. Maybe most of them didn’t realize they had the option. But most likely, they were too insecure to do it. I’m glad I’m secure with my body image and open-minded enough to experience it. It was worth every second.

We lay there for about ten minutes before putting our tops back on. It was, after all, our first time. But the next few days we did it again for longer stretches of time. It became comfortable, normal. We saw more women do it too. I’m sure the men did double-takes, but they didn’t stare like idiots.

I would do it again, but it all depends on whom I’m with. Of course, I wouldn’t do it if my family were around. If I were alone with a boyfriend, I’d lose the top only if he were okay with it. If I were with a group of friends that included both men and woman? No, in that case, I’d keep my top on. It all depends on the situation. But I don’t regret doing it, and I highly recommend it.

And, no, I didn’t take any pictures.

The Cleanse is Over!

I ended my cleanse last Friday, two days earlier than planned. I was on my way to Rivers, a bar along the Chicago River in the Loop, and as I rode in the taxi down LSD with the window rolled down and the sun shining, I knew it was time for a beer. The Blue Moon I drank as I sat outside with my friend went straight to my head, and it felt good. I ordered the chicken quesadillas with cheese and sour cream, wondering how my body was going to react to dairy. My stomach welcomed the toxin like a long lost friend.

I was a little disappointed that I didn’t feel any of the changes that others experienced during the same cleanse. No surge of energy. No glowing skin. My sinuses didn’t clear up. I believe it means my body wasn’t too out of balance pre-cleanse. I did lose seven pounds and some inches, though. This bod’s ready for Miami Beach.

On Easter I enjoyed a chocolate cupcake and a soy latte from Starbucks. I indulged in my mother’s homemade pasta with meat sauce, crusty French bread and fine wine. Today I ate blueberry pancakes and more homemade pasta and buttered toast.

But just because the cleanse is over doesn’t mean I’m going back to all my old eating habits. I’ve switched to almond milk for my decaf coffee and whole grain cereals, bought two pounds of brown rice instead of white pasta, and the juicer still sits on my counter ready to be used. I still have a drawer full of veggies and a freezer full of fish. I’m going to limit the amount of bread I eat and continue making homemade pesto and salad dressing.

That’ll make up for the pizza and alcohol I’m keeping in my diet.

Nine Days to Go: Week 2 of the Cleanse

Half way through week 2 of the cleanse. According to the book, change is happening internally, but I won’t necessarily feel it. It all depends on how “out of balance” my body was before the cleanse. Well, I guess it wasn’t too out of balance because I haven’t noticed much of a difference in the way I feel now and how I felt before the cleanse. It helps that I participated in the Elimination Week, preparing my body by taking out sugars, white flower, caffeine and alcohol from my diet.

It also could mean my pre-cleanse diet wasn’t as bad as I thought. I wasn’t eating as many fruits and vegetables, but I did drastically decrease the amount of white processed flower in my diet. I switched to decaf coffee. I started drinking more tea. I snacked on almonds and goji berries. I ate cereal with soymilk instead of regular milk. Maybe it’s those small changes that I had already made that’s making it easier for my body adjust to the cleanse diet.

In any case, I have nine days to go, and I’m going to see this thing through, darn it. Last night I attended Foursquare’s first birthday party at Lincoln Station. I knew there’d be alcohol. I knew there’d be cake. What I didn’t know is that it would be chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, my favorite. And also pizza, my other love. And the ultimate: Chocolate. Lava. Crunch. Cakes. All for free to celebrate one year since the birth of the latest social media craze.

When they brought in the chocolate sheet cake adorned with candles that spelled out HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my friend Julie pulled me away. “You need to stay far away from that,” she said. But I wanted to look at it. I wanted to bend down close to it and take a whiff. I wanted to be naughty and stick my finger in the frosting. I took a picture of it and uploaded it to Facebook. “Help!” I pleaded to my Facebook friends.

“Hurry! Go outside and have a cigarette!” My cousin Vince jokingly responded.

The pizza wasn’t as hard to resist. After all, it was Domino’s. But the small boxes carrying two chocolate lava crunch cakes to take home almost killed me. The thought crossed my mind. Maybe just…one…little…bite.

“I wonder if I can take the molten cakes home and freeze them,” I said to Julie. But I figured by the time the cleanse was over, I might as well just walk to Domino’s and purchase fresh molten cakes to bring home. Or even better, treat myself to a gorgeous dinner at Quartino, which not only offers molten cake for dessert, but also hot, fresh donut holes with honey and chocolate dipping sauces. Mmmmm.

“Stay strong!” My Facebook friends encouraged. “You can do it! May the force be with you, sista!”

So last night I resisted. I persevered. And I went home with no chocolate lava crunch cakes.

Nine days to go.

Week 1 of the Cleanse: Where did this will power come from?

So I’m half way through Week 1 of the cleanse, and so far the biggest surprise is that I'm doing just fine. Where did this will power come from? I’ve never been disciplined when it came to a healthy diet. But Dr. Junger’s book, Clean, is developed in a way that makes it easy for even a foodie like me to give her body a much needed brake from processed foods and breads.

Sure, during Elimination Week last week I had the munchies almost every night, craving Fritos and McDonalds and chocolate. I stopped watching the Food Network, a regular visitor in my home, because I feared temptation from Paula Deen and Rachael Ray. But I ignored the hankerings, and instead sipped on chamomile tea with agave syrup (no honey aloud) or drank water with lemon, and that seemed to help.

I also found recipes in the book and online that I like enough to keep using after I complete the program, which makes sticking to the cleanse easier. On the My Clean Program website, a sort of Facebook for people doing the cleanse, I found a delicious recipe for an almond crust that I use on chicken breast and salmon (see recipe below). I lay the chicken or fish on a bed of mixed greens with homemade dressing, also from the book, add some quinoa or brown rice, and I have a healthy meal to add to my regular diet that I actually crave. By the beginning of this week, I was watching Food Network again, hoping to learn more healthy tips.

The Clean program consists of two liquid meals and one solid meal, preferably at lunch, a day. At first I thought having a liquid meal for dinner would be an adjustment, but I’ve actually enjoyed not having to cook at night after a long day of writing and running errands. I’ve tried a couple of the soups from the book, but neither of them will make it to the post-cleanse menu. I’ve enjoyed the energy smoothies that I have in the morning, but I miss coffee, scrambled eggs and toast. And pancakes. And pizza. And alcohol. I frown every morning at the new coffeemaker that I just got as a birthday present. But I did manage to bar hop last Saturday with my friends and drank water the entire time.

So far the withdrawal symptoms I’ve experienced aren’t severe. I get mild headaches and I’ve been sneezing a lot. Dr. Junger says by Week 2 I’ll start to see positive changes including more energy and clearer skin. So we’ll see.

Only two and a half weeks to go.

Almond Crust:

1/2 cup of roasted, unsalted almonds

1 garlic clove

1/2 teaspoon of coarse salt

3 tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil

Combine in a food processor. Rub on to chicken breast or fish and bake. Yum!

Day One of a Month Long Journey to Clean

Day one of Elimination Week. So far so good.

This week, I’m starting a cleansing program based on the book Clean by Alejandro Junger. For years, I’d thought about doing a cleanse but never had the incentive. Then last week, after consuming too much white bread over three days, I suffered ongoing headaches and sluggishness. And when my friend Charlene mentioned she was starting a cleanse based on this book, I took it as a sign. I just turned 39, spring is coming, and I booked a trip to Miami in April. Now was a good time to eliminate the toxins that have been accumulating in my body.

The main detox in the book Clean is one to three weeks. But before the detox is an Elimination Week that prepares the body for the cleanse. Sometimes while a person is detoxing, their body responds dramatically to eliminating the toxins that have built up over the years that can result in acne breakouts, headaches, and flu-like symptoms during the first few days of cleansing. The Elimination Week helps alleviate that. Eliminated from my diet this week are all the usual suspects: sugar, pasta, breads, dairy, caffeine, alcohol, processed foods. But also included are some surprises: Bananas, strawberries, and tomatoes are also stricken from the diet.

This morning I started with a green smoothie made from a recipe from Clean that include frozen pineapple and mango chunks, and almond milk, which isn’t as gross as it sounds. I also threw in an apple and some leftover green smoothie my brother gave me yesterday, contents unknown, but they should be kosher given his healthy lifestyle. Threw in some ice, blended it up, and it was actually a sweet, refreshing drink. Not what I would normally eat on a cold, damp morning, but I drank the whole serving.

Lunch was a mixed salad with a homemade dressing of grape seed oil, lemon juice, garlic, basil, thyme and parsley. At the cafe where I do most of my writing, I sipped on naturally-decaffeinated chamomile tea with stevia, since honey is a no-no. I like using stevia in my lemon water, but in coffee and tea, it gives a funky aftertaste. Not sure if this is something I’ll get used to, or if I have to skip drinking herbal tea during the cleanse. Someone suggested using agave syrup, which I bought yesterday during my cleansing stock up at Whole Foods. I may give that a try. For dinner I heated up a bowl of left over brown rice with veggies and roasted chicken. During the cleanse, which begins next Monday, I’ll have to consume two liquid meals and one solid meal a day.

Now that it’s ten o’clock at night, I’m sitting on the couch trying not to let the fast food commercials discourage me. Throughout the evening, I felt hungry. But according to the book, the body “benefits so hugely from the break in digestion that if the body were completely in charge of things, there wouldn’t be a problem…It learns to function well and feel good on two liquid meals and one solid meal a day.”

My goal is to finish all three weeks of the cleanse, with Easter being the first day I’ll get to indulge. But I’ll have to see how I do after Week 1 of the main cleanse. For now, I’m taking it one day at a time.

Saying Goodbye

Last week, my family and I said goodbye to Mark Herring, a boy that lived on the same floor at Misericordia as my brother, Michael. I don’t know how many years I’d known Mark. My memories of him blur into a collage of brief encounters, moments I spent with him while visiting my brother. Like the time Mark was reading a Best Buy catalogue and I asked him if he was buying a new flat screen TV. Or the time my dad and I were taking Michael to Easter Mass in the rotunda, and Mark asked if he could go along. So I walked beside him as he steered his powered wheelchair down the hall, my father pushing Michael in his chair next to us, and we sat together during mass.

I don’t remember the last time I saw Mark before he died. Lots of times it was in passing while I was visiting Michael. I’d see Mark down the hall and wave. Or I’d stop in the multi-purpose room where all the kids gathered to watch a DVD and give him a kiss or a high-five.

I was at Misericordia the Saturday before Mark died. Michael wasn’t feeling good, and mom and I stopped by for a visit. We spent a couple of hours by Michael’s bedside, talking to him, trying to make him laugh. I took a picture of mom and me holding Michael’s hands and uploaded it to Facebook. As we were leaving, we stopped by the nurses’ station to chat with the nurse on duty. The hallway was quiet, not filled with the usual kids hanging out playing, singing, or drawing. I peeked in the multi-purpose room, looking for Barb, Michael’s CNA, but I didn’t see Mark. If I had, I would’ve stopped to talk to him. Two days later my brother Chris called to tell me Mark died of a sudden heart attack.

I didn’t know a lot about Mark. I wasn’t even sure how old he was. Never met his family. It wasn’t until his funeral when I learned the answers to these questions. The laminated memorial cards told us Mark would have been seventeen in June. In the front row at the service sat his mom, sister, brother, grandmother and step dad. I’d never met them. None of us had. I gave his grieving mother a hug and told her how beautiful her son was. I was one of hundreds of strangers that came up to her that day. I wonder if she knew what an impact her son had on all of us.

Mark had impossibly long eyelashes. Dark and curled, like every woman’s dream. It was the first thing I saw as I knelt beside his small white coffin. I told him that I wished I’d spent more time with him when I had the chance, that I wished I’d seen him on that last Saturday of his life. We always regret the time we didn’t spend with someone once they’re gone. But it reminds us to cherish the time we have with ones who are still with us. 

Scent of a Season

Last week I finally turned on the heat when the thermostat in my apartment dropped below 70 degrees. The furnace chugged and coughed and rumbled as it awakened from its hibernation, and soon it released a gassy odor that spread throughout my home, an odor that only emits the first time I turn on the heat for the season. That smell is the official start of Fall for me, like the opening bell of the season. The scent makes me think of what the next few months will bring.

Like when my feet get icy cold while at the office, I’ll kick off my pumps and pull on my old knee-high, pale pink Uggs. With worn sheepskin and holes in the seams, they’re no longer adequate to wear outside during a Chicago winter, but perfect as an extra pair of slippers in the office. Putting my chilled feet into the plush fleece sockliner still brings a smile to my face.

I’m excited to put away my faded t-shirts and denim shorts and tired flip-flops that I wore all summer, and instead pull out long-sleeve sweaters and wool skirts and knee-high leather boots. I love putting on my leopard print beret that I bought in Provincetown and leaving it on even after I take off my coat and gloves. I love tying a scrunched pashmina around my neck.

I’ll get inspired to make homemade chicken broth. And while the broth is simmering for hours on the stove my home will fill with warmth, the windows will steam up, and the sweet aroma will sift out my front door and into the hallway so the neighbors can smell it the moment they step off the elevator.

I’ll fill my refrigerator drawers with a variety of apples picked from orchards in the northwest suburbs. I’ll think of recipes to use up all the apples before they rot: apple pie, apple crisp, applesauce, apple turnovers, baked apples…

I’ve covered my bed with the soft cotton yellow and white striped comforter that sat folded on top of my printer all summer. I pulled out the down throws and blankets and the Snuggie my brother got me for Christmas last year, and keep them on the couch for easy access.

I’ll kick off my shoes after a long day and pull on my favorite red slipper socks. My aunt searched every mercato in northern Italy until she found a pair and sent them to me. I love them because I don’t have to take them off when I want to curl up on the couch, and I can still wear them to go down and get the mail. One time I almost left home with them on.

I’ll consider the multiple invitations to Halloween parties around the city and brainstorm ideas for inexpensive costumes. I’ll buy a pumpkin, but won’t get around to carving it, then consider using it to make homemade pumpkin pie.

I’ll watch as the leaves on the trees in Lincoln Park turn from green to brownish-yellow and fall to the ground, and remember how grateful I am that I live in a condo with no yard to maintain.

Most of all, Fall is a prelude to the Christmas season. One whiff of the crisp autumn air reminds me that soon I’ll be shopping for a Frazier Fur and pulling out strands of white lights and boxes of ornaments to prepare for my holiday party.

And then I’ll get excited for Winter.

Chautauqua: Final Day

My last full day in Chautauqua. Tomorrow we leave for East Lansing early in the morning, then Sunday morning I catch an 8:30 a.m. train to Chicago. After a long week of learning, relaxing, and reflecting, I’m ready to return home to the real world.

We woke up to another rainy morning. I decided it would serve me better to stay in bed than to walk in the rain to morning meditation. Kathy made us BLUEBERRY PANCAKES again! God bless her! After the kids left for club, Char and I relaxed with our coffee and our journals.

The morning lecture was given by Robert M. Franklin, president of Morehouse College. He told us a list of things he teaches his students: to be well read, well spoken, well traveled, well dressed and well balanced. He closed with an excerpt from a speech that Martin Luther King’s gave the day before he was killed, the “If I had sneezed” closing paragraphs. I counted 30 knitters.

During lunch I went to writing lecture by Clint McCowan called “The Hydrogen Atom of Fiction,” which it turns out is “setting,” which includes not just the geographical location but the general environment of the characters, like religion. I found this interesting because as I continue working on my novel, the characters’ religion, Catholicism, is becoming a bigger part of the story.

I decided to skip the interfaith lecture and instead hung out in the plaza. By the afternoon, the sky cleared and the sun was shining. I read more of the book Char loaned me on understanding men called “It’s a Guy Thing: An Owner’s Manual for Women.” I’m learning a lot about those bastards that I can’t live without.

We went blueberry picking in the afternoon. I picked about three and a half pounds so I’m going to have to find some creative ways to use them: blueberry pancakes (of course), smoothies, cobbler, pie. I’ll be eating blueberries the rest of the summer. Lots of antioxidants.

After blueberry picking, Char and I took the ferry to Bemus Point for dinner at the Italian Fisherman. We ate chicken fingers and Italian nachos (a sky-high pile of chips sprinkled with Asiago cheese, crumbled Italian sausage, tomatoes, banana peppers and green onions) while sitting on the floating dock, watching the sun go down, and drinking Margaritas.

We made it back to Chautauqua just in time for Jason Alexander’s show “Donny Clay Wants to Show You the Way!” He put on a great show. I thought it was amusing how his humor drove a lot of the old folks out of the amphitheater. The best line from the show was unscripted. Donny asked an audience member, “What do you do?......You drill what?......Oh, gas holes.”

We’re back at the apartment now getting ready to go to sleep. I’m sad to leave Chautauqua, but I know I’ll return some day. I didn’t work on my novel as much as I planned, but I wrote a daily blog, journaled every morning, and cleared my mind. There’s so much to experience here. I really wanted to take it all in. There aren’t many places on this planet that you can walk through a safe, gated community and hear the orchestra practicing in one amphitheater, the kids frolicking in the plaza, the opera singers doing scales from the practice huts, a renowned guest speaker giving a lecture in the open Hall of Philosophy, the Chautauqua Belle steamboat blowing its horn in the distance, all while grandma knits a scarf on a nearby bench. It’s a magical place, and I hope to be back soon.

For now, it's time to get back to reality.

Chautauqua: Day 5

For the second day in the row, I was the youngest person at the morning meditation by at least 20 years. It was nice to see so many older people embracing something eastern like meditation. Since I’m here in Chautauqua to experience, to be enlightened, to clear and open my mind, I pushed all judgments to the back. As I sat during meditation, and I felt my mind start to wander as it usually does, I brought myself back to the center with affirmations: I am whole. I am happy. I am intelligent. I am prolific. I am complete. Just to remind myself why I’m here. Bill the moderator (whose name, I found out, is actually Jim) told us to imagine that each breath we take is like a wave from the ocean ebbing and flowing. He said it helps him fall asleep at night, too.

After meditation, I sat on the front porch writing in my journal, sipping coffee, watching the people across the street set up for the peace prayer. I considered not joining them today (again I was the youngest one there) and instead observe them from the porch. But I’m not here to observe. So I closed my journal and joined the prayer circle. I even learned how to say “peace” in sign language.

As I walked back to the apartment, I wondered why it seems that so many people in Chautauqua are old. I realized that it’s because the kids are usually in club all day. People in their 20s are here to study music, dance, theater, etc., so they’re probably in class. Others are taking continuing education classes or maybe sitting on the beach. So the elders, who are probably retired, are just here to relax, meditate, pray. It’s all good.

I wonder if anything I did this week will have an impact on my life once I get back to Chicago. I’ll probably go back to my non-secular lifestyle, watching too much bad American television, searching for my next freelance project, struggling to get the words of my novel on paper. But maybe I’ll take a few minutes each morning to do a little bit of yoga, write in my journal more often, or just sit quietly in an attempt to meditate. I learn something from every experience and take it with me wherever I go. That’s the whole point of life. There’s no such thing as a negative experience.

Leila Nadya Sadat, and international human rights lawyer gave the morning lecture. She was a great speaker, talking mostly about the International Criminal Court and her criticism of the US’s involvement. She made some interesting points, and overall I was impressed. I still counted 24 knitters though.

After lunch there was a Mystic Heart Meditation Seminar that I was interested in attending. On my way there I considered skipping it. Maybe it’s too new age for me. Too spiritual. Maybe I should just go to the plaza and write. But I dragged my butt to the Hall of Missions. The teacher was a man named Subagh Singh Khalsa. He was skinny with an olive complexion and a long grey beard. He wore a turban, and although he was very friendly with a gentle tone, I couldn’t help but notice he looked a little like Osama Bin Laden. He took us through a couple of meditation practices that involved chanting, which made me just a tad uncomfortable, but I went through the exercises, and as my fingertips rested on my thighs, lips pressed together, feet planted on the floor, I remembered a time when I was little, probably around five or six. I would sit in my room and be deep in thought about my own existence. I guess it was a form of meditation. Just without the chanting and deep breathing. But I remember actually being so deep into it that I almost felt something like an out-of-body experience. That’s pretty deep for a small child. I never experienced that feeling when I got older. Still haven’t.

I ran into Subagh later that afternoon while I was grabbing a snack at Food For Thought. I told him I was a writer, and he smiled and said, “You’re going to be a successful writer. I can see it.”

Char and I attended the interfaith lecture given by Mohamed M. Keshavjee, a Muslim lawyer from England who was harassed at the US border in 2003. We weren’t getting much out of his lecture unfortunately, so we left after 20 minutes and walked around the plaza. At 4:30 the kids put on the annual Air Band Competition where each different grade lip-synced to a skit. Char’s daughter Clara did a solo performance of the Electric Slide.

I was going to attend a Unity workshop, but decided I had had enough spirituality for one day.

Tomorrow, last day in Chautauqua:

§ Morning meditation

§ Peace prayer

§ Morning Lecture by Robert Franklin, president of Morehouse College

§ Brown Bag Lunch: The Hydrogen of Fiction. We’ll see what this is about.

§ Interfaith Lecture by Harvey Cox, Hollis Professor of Divinity

§ Jason Alexander (yes, George Costanza) presents “Donny Clay Will Show You the Way!” Really looking forward to this one

Talk to you tomorrow.

Chautauqua: Day 4

It rained all day in Chautauqua. I carried around an umbrella from morning mediation, to peace prayer, to the morning lecture, to the afternoon interfaith lecture, to Bat Chat, to the opera recital, and to the ballet. Now a fog has settled over Chautauqua as everyone turns in for the night.

My day started with the Unity meditation which I dragged my butt to at 8 a.m. Meditation has always been a challenge for me, the very few times that I’ve tried it. But I believe it’s a great exercise to master, so I gave it a shot. I sat among 15 people in a circle, my feet planted on the ground, my back straight, eyes closed, breathing deeply. As the moderator, Bill, talked us through the clearing of clutter in our heads, my mind wandered: my blog, my book, even my abandoned Catholic faith seeped its way into my head. But as Bill instructed, I gently brought my mind back to the present, staring at the blobs and shapes in the back of my eyelids. After meditation I went to a quick prayer for peace. We stood in a circle mentioning people in places that need peace: Iran, Afghanistan, Darfur, Sudan, even here at home.

The morning lecture was by Ralph Williams, a religion professor from University of Michigan. His style was animated and he made some funny jokes, but I still couldn’t focus on what he was saying. Guess the mediation didn’t help. Instead I counted knitters in the audience. I got up to 26 before I stopped.

The afternoon interfaith lecture was much more exciting. Bishop Gene Robinson, the first openly gay Episcopalian priest. Best quote: “God wants reconciliation among all. All. What part of “all” don’t you understand?”

Char recommended the Bat Chat in the afternoon where an enthusiastic woman spoke for an hour about the bats of Chautauqua and how they eat all the mosquitoes. And that a very small percentage of them actually have rabies. She passed around photos. My favorite was the one of the bat enjoying a fig.

After dinner we went to an opera recital, then to An Evening of Pas de Deux by the North Carolina Dance Theater, which I enjoyed more than I expected.

Another full day in Chautauqua.

Quote of the day:

“Stop arguing! Danielle is not going to want to have any children because of you two!”

-- Char yelling at her kids who wouldn’t stop bickering about doing the dishes

On the agenda for tomorrow:

• Unity meditation

• Peace prayer

• Morning lecture: Prosecuting Crimes Against Humanity: Caught Between Justice and Despair by Leila Nadya Sadat from Washington University

• Mystic Heart Meditation Seminar

• Interfaith Lecture by Mohamed Keshavjee, professor of Islamic Law

• Air Band Competition by the kids

• Unity Class/Workshop

Busy day tomorrow. Talk to you then!

Chautauqua: Day 3

The phone woke us up at 8 a.m.

“Who’s calling us so early?” Char snapped.

I stumbled to the kitchen and picked up the receiver. It was Kathy, our landlord. She made us blueberry pancakes and I was to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. One thing that will get me out of bed early is a hot breakfast. Especially blueberry pancakes. Kathy handed me a plate full of steaming hot cakes, a bowl of fruit and a small pitcher of warm maple syrup.

After we ate and the kids went to club, I sat on the deck enjoying my coffee, writing in my journal and doing yoga. Char read my blogs from the last two days and made a point to clarify that she was not a suburbanite as I had claimed. “I lived in the city longer than you have!” she said. After some debate, she had me convinced. I guess no matter how many American suburbs she’s lived in the last 15 years, no matter how many SUVs she’s driven, or how many pies she’s baked, she will always be a city girl at heart. Just like me.

I opted to skip the morning lecture given by Michael Gazzaniga, which Char said was amazing, and instead sat in the plaza and wrote, churning out four pages. Afterward I spent some time reading a book that Char gave me on how to understand men. (I’ll blog about that later. If I learn anything.)

After a picnic in the plaza, Char and I attended the afternoon interfaith lecture by Rabbi David Gordis, but we left after a half hour after not really getting anything out of it. Char went to writing class, and I spent the afternoon walking around campus.

For dinner we went to a restaurant on the lake called the Casino in nearby town called Bemis Point. After ice cream from Perry’s and some grocery shopping we made it home by 10 p.m. Another exhausting but productive day. And my toe is doing better. Still a little purple though.

On the agenda for tomorrow:

· Unity meditation (didn’t make it to mediation this morning as predicted)

· Chautauqua Prays for Peace (not sure what it is but Char says it’s cool)

· Morning lecture

· Bat Chat: learning all about bats in Chautauqua

· Performance by the voice department

· Ballet

Talk to you tomorrow.