A place in the world

Something happened today. I’m not sure what it was but today I felt like I finally engaged in the rest of my life. The last couple of weeks I’ve had this odd sensation of time passing but not really knowing what day it is, what month or even, sometimes, what year. I’ve been feeling dislodged from life, just not sure where I am, where I’m going and often, where I’ve been. Living in Seattle seems like a distant memory, the person I was is someone I wouldn’t recognize on the street. Los Angeles feels very far away, much farther than it actually is and I’ve never felt more distant from the people I love.

I miss being able to jump in the car and drive to my mom’s house. The same-old-same-old of her quiet suburban backyard, sitting with her drinking tea and talking about nothing, these things make my heart ache. I don’t call my friends as much, I think because I know I can’t make plans to meet them for dinner or drinks or lunch or shopping or yoga or a movie or a walk. I don’t want to be reminded of how far away they are. This is my third major move as an adult, my third time starting over with home, work, friends. I understand now why some people never do it. It’s one of those “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” type things, which is not to say that I’m not deeply aware that in the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing.

My co-worker’s dad has prostate cancer. He’s youngish and being treated so he’ll probably be alright but it’s been hard on her to see her dad weakened, to see a proud and able man diminished by age and disease. Another co-worker just lost his mom. My boss' uncle tried to kill himself with pills. Life is cruel and eventually we all meet that fate so I thank my lucky stars that my life is so interesting, dynamic and fruitful.

Today I went for a run. I don’t like to run especially but I find myself wanting to do it when I feel alive, when I have energy that needs to be spent, and when I want to clear my head. I now feel able to do that instead of lingering in a hazy fog hoping sleep will wipe it away. That’s how I’ve been for the last couple of weeks. Tired, foggy, and while happy for the most part, confused. Today I didn’t feel that way. Maybe it’s because we were putting our presentation at work together, the “here’s what we need to do our project” presentation to the big boss. If we get it, I still have a job, and maybe even more of the job I want. If we don’t get it (the millions of dollars), I’m not sure what happens. I stay here, find a job in the city, I don’t know.

I miss acting, ironically, I miss making movies, but I don’t miss Hollywood. This weekend I fly to the east coast to see one of my dearest girlfriends get married. She used to live here and it makes me sad that we missed each other, here, but nothing could make me happier than seeing her marry someone she loves. Maybe that’s part of what happened today. I realized that moving changes things – where I shop, what I do on the weekends, how I exercise, how I get to work – but the important things, it doesn’t change. My important people, my passions and interests, my sense of self and feeling of place in the world, these things I take with me. These things live inside me.

Fat on the inside

When it comes to being fit, experts say there is no short-cut. "If you just want to look thin, then maybe dieting is enough," Bell said. "But if you want to actually be healthy, then exercise has to be an important component of your lifestyle."

So said an article in the LA Times last weekend in regards to a new study on "internal fat." The study found that thin people who don't exercise or eat well could be storing fat around their organs INSIDE their body, making them more vulnerable to diabetes and heart disease than their heavier but more active counterparts.

I sometimes take this yoga class from Bryan Kest who is just fantastic in his unorthodox way of leading a class. He makes light of the Indian names and false reverence often found in less compelling yoga classes. "This is called bending over and holding one leg up," he'll say in a class before he goes on to say "who cares how you look in a bathing suit if you can't bend over and pick up your kids. What could be more important than bending over?"

In this uber-superficial city/country/world people are so focused on what they look like and what other people look like. It's easy to look at an obese person and say, wow, I must be really healthy compared to them but this new study says "thin fat" people may as well be obese. Health is not measured on the outside.

Here's the good news. Exercise makes you feel good. It's meant to. It's like a good friend of mine always says "the body wants to be in shape." You don't have to do much, just give it a little encouragement. Exercise shouldn't be torture, it should be fun. And when you feel good, you'll look good. My very first yoga teacher used to have us look in the mirror after class so we could see how much better we looked. Bright eyes, worry lines relaxed, clear skin.

When I was doing fund raising for the YMCA, I remember the administrator saying "if everyone showed up to work out who had a membership, they couldn't all fit in the door." People buy a membership because they think it will motivate them to work out. But if feeling good, being able to move and aging in style doesn't compel a person, no amount of money spent will.

I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you

My dad made me run in high school, track and cross-country. I hated running but it gave me very nicely shaped legs. As a teenager, I never wore a skirt longer than mid-thigh and I didn't wear pants until college. In a bikini, however, I was always self-conscious about my strong frame, thick muscular waist, and round butt. The women in the magazines had long thin limbs, small soft waists and smooth flat bottoms with just a hint of a crease at the leg. I used to describe myself as a white girl with black girl's butt. Or bubble butt. I tried to hide it (years before J-Lo made it famous).

When I left home, I stopped running and didn't run for years and years. I did yoga, took boxing, swam and rode the bicycle. Without the heavy training, I was thinner. A few years ago, I gained a tiny bit of weight at my waist and finally, after all these years, had a soft feminine tummy (is that the weirdest word ever?) But then something funny happened. My butt started to lose its muscular quality and literally began disappearing. I'd since learned that those models were airbrushed teenagers and at 35, I'd finally had come to appreciate my bubble butt! Alas, it was too late. My ass was disappearing and now I wanted it back.

I started running again, about six months ago. Every time I head out, I feel like I'm chasing my ass, into the past, trying to catch it. Wait, don't go! I'm sorry! I think y'all know the moral of this story. Whatever you've got, appreciate it before it's gone.