I am at Kripalu, a retreat center in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, leading a weekend seminar.  Although I am here ‘working’, I am in a retreat setting and what a difference it makes to my state of consciousness.  The rolling hills and lake front view, the acres and acres of space, the spiritual emblems and tinkly music all around—it’s enough to calm any body down to a more livable pace.

The biggest treat has been silent meals.  It’s something I’ve done before on retreat, but I did not anticipate how much I would love to have this again.  I had dinner in silence and breakfast and lunch today too.  Obviously, that means no one is talking.  But what it does for me (and I’m sure, others) is slow down the speed at which I eat.  There is a heightened awareness.  There is an exaggerated sense of tasting each morsel. I notice myself breathing and chewing instead of wolfing down the meal at an accelerated pace to get back to other business. 

Taking the time to choose what I am eating and savoring it also leads to eating less.  I had small portions on my plate and I was full.  I took my time.  I experienced it—I did not need MORE to keep the experience going. 

Meaning is a state of consciousness and silent meals raise that consciousness to the point that eating has meaning.  I felt the nourishment.  I felt the satisfaction. I felt the food as fuel instead of entertainment or a busy action.  I was grateful for it.  I felt connected to the earth-life that was feeding me.  I almost got ferklempt!  (OK, not really but I did enjoy the time in a way that felt almost overwhelming)

Funny enough, my favorite time of the day at home is dinner time with the whole family.  That is NOT a silent meal.  So, I’ll have to save these silent retreat-type meals for when I am an empty nester.  But here, on a break from the norm, I’ll bask in the presence of the almighty meal.  Amen.

I started this blog as an extension of a book I am writing, my fourth, tentatively titled "The Little Book On Meaning".  It’s a book about meaning in our lives—why we crave it and how we create it.  It’s a new journey for me to write a book of this kind, but it was the next one wanting to be written after attending seminary for two years (2004-2006).  It’s also the by-product of hearing my coaching clients say consistently: "I want to do something more meaningful."

I mention the book today because today is the day I promised myself I’d start the rewrites and I am procrastinating.  Writing a blog entry feels much more fun.  But truthfully, I am excited about this book and it’s been a lot of fun to write when I am not anxiety-ridden over blowing off my precious and few openings in my day for writing.  (Since having kids, my writing seems to only take place between 5 and 7 am.)

If there is going to be any meaning to this entry, I better get to it…..What does it mean when we procrastinate?  It’s means we are afraid.  We’d rather avoid the pain of one thing by doing something else. Unfortunately, we create more pain by procrastinating and more fear as well.  I suppose that means then that I am afraid to write.  Not really, but I am afraid that my writing will stink or I’ll not have enough to say and a particular chapter will be two pages long—so I run–to the fridge, to the store, to the blog—.

There is no better antidote than ‘just do it’, so I do just that.  I plant my butt and write something–ANYTHING.  It’s OK if it stinks.  As some famous writer once said:  "There is no good writing; only good rewriting." 

So without time to rewrite this today, I hope it’s useful and that you face whatever fear makes you stop on your dreams.

PS www.laurabermanfortgang.com/schedule.html will guide you to a seminar on getting published and getting your writing out of you, if that’s your dream.

Except for a few well placed digs (with his permission) during some of my talks, I leave my husband out of my teaching and writing.  It’s my way of finding some privacy for us. I’m making an exception. (The relationship category needs some attention!)  There is no question that my life would be different if I had not chosen to partner with my love and have a family with him.  He’s a good guy, a great father and a caring husband.

Like most couples, we have our perennial argument that seems to surface a few times a year, but we never really get to the bottom of it or find a way to come to some mutually satisfying agreement.  It comes back in different guises, but in essence it’s the same argument.  Today, I may have identified the pattern so perhaps, we can finally interrupt it.

The aftermath of being in the hospital with Wyatt brought up it’s fair share of stress that was bountiful feeding ground for a confrontation.  I crave connection so I am bound to talk about a concern or upset and I am not afraid to stir the pot because anger is preferable to indifference.  My husband would rather avoid talking about a lot of things because his basic philosophy is " if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it".  Well, we definitely have our own definitions of ‘broke’.  He requires an obvious mishap before fixing and I believe in maintenance so decimation is never an option. If our relationship were a car, he would take it in if something was wrong and I’d take it in regularly so nothing WILL go wrong.  Ah, therein lies the problem. 

I appear needy and demanding because I want to talk and connect (a girl thing!).  He appears uncaring, cold and indifferent (a boy thing).  Sound familiar?  But the pattern that I saw today was that my husband will avoid connection because he fears the shrew within me YET the longer he avoids connection, the angrier the shrew gets and voila–he gets to be right.  The beast will attack if he connects.  SO, today we agreed that he will stop holding back and talk sooner and stop assuming he knows the outcome of connection and we’ll see how that calms the beast.  And I agreed to take up golf.  (I’ll have to leave you guessing on that one, sorry.)

I have yet to say at the debut of my blog what my definition of a meaningful life is.  It is one where we are connected to self, source, each other and our world versus creating separation.  In separation we feel lack whether we realize it or not and it causes behavior that keeps us separate. Today, the Fortgangs , after almost fifteen years of marriage, are hopefully setting the course towards a more meaningful relationship.

We’ve been home from the hospital for three days and the most unexpected surprise is emerging.  Being that Wyatt has to eat in a new way and we have spent almost every spare moment of the weekend learning how to make Ketogenically balanced meals, a whole new dynamic has set in.  I can feel a metamorphosis of my own relationship to food.

At first, I was sad because Wyatt has to endure yet another inconvenience and another change that impedes his ability to be a carefree kid.  As his brother and sister reach in the fridge for whatever they want or ask for their usual treats at the town pool (cheese fries) or plop in front of the TV with popcorn or ice cream, he has to wait for his tiny portions of 4 to 1 ratio food.  (4 parts fat to 1 part protein or carb).  Sweets and treats are rare and mere-imitations at that.  I have been mourning along side him as we see freedom and pleasure taken from him at every turn.  It’s also been tough to try to get my other two children to realize what deprivation Wyatt is undertaking and learn how to be aware of that without causing their relationship to food to be unhealthy.  I don’t want food to be shrouded in guilt or shame or secrecy for them, either.

What is tough to describe is this inner shift I am feeling as I see clearly how the meaning of food is changing for me. Food for most of us is pleasure.  It feels good, it tastes good, it satisfies us.  Many of us are comforted by food or maybe we have a love/hate relationship with food if we struggle with finding a healthy weight or balance.  As an ex-anorexic and exercise bulimic (in my 20′s), I’ve already gone through changes in how I see and value food but this shift is very big.  What I am experiencing is the shift of understanding that food is meant to be sustenance and nothing more. 

In Wyatt’s case, food is also medicine.  His food is prescribed and has the dual purpose of feeding him to live and fueling his metabolism in a way that heals the brain.  For me, as I support him, cook for him and avoid flaunting my freedom of food choice if front of him, I can feel how I am starting to accept food as a basic staple instead of a reason to celebrate, self-medicate, punish myself or reward myself. 

What is also frighteningly up for grabs is the social aspects of food. Our world is very food-centric.  I am an American and an ethnic Jew (with an Italian side of the family) at that.  EVERYTHING is about food.  Every holiday, every gathering, every birth, death and hiccup is about food. My depression-era father always taught me to have more than enough in case!  How on earth am I going to feed my kid his Ketogenic niblets while the rest of the room is falling into a diabetic coma or a food-induced haze?  These thoughts give me a momentary panic attack.  We haven’t gotten there yet, but when we do, I should be well entrenched in my new understanding that food is for keeping our body going and that’s it!

It’s only three days, but I think the mourning and sadness about food may end sooner rather than later. If I’m lucky (on a completely selfish note), I hope this new reality allows for my yo-yo ten pounds to drop off for good!

This is at least our fifth hospitalization over the last couple of years for Wyatt’s epilepsy and an eerie familiarity is starting to set in.  It’s not our fifth time in the same place, but the experience has emerging patterns.  There is always a nurse that stands out above the rest who we can’t wait to see or who we seek out when we can’t find our own.  There is the initial excitement on Wyatt’s part about settling into the cool hospital bed that dissipates into begging to go home in less than 24 hours.  And there is the strange range of emotions that overwhelm me as I walk through the hallways.

Walking through long corridors makes me weepy.  It happens in hotels too.  The emotions are hard to put my finger on.  Sometimes it’s joy and gratitude for the work that brought me to the hotel and the little taste of luxury or gratitude for the insurance that pays for Wyatt’s care.  Other times, especially in hospitals, I get overwhelmed by loneliness as I travel the corridor to get something for my son in the middle of the night or when doctors walk by in droves and never look up to say hello.  Other times still, I am taken by the horrors of what some other children and families have to endure that make our situation seem like a breeze. 

It’s day two of Wyatt’s Keto treatment and all is going pretty well.  I have not been weepy yet although I have had plenty of reminders that we could be facing way bigger challenges than we are.  Maybe I am not weepy cause I am hungry as hell.  Wyatt had to fast for 24 hours and I did it with him with the exception of one Slim Fast shake.  Today, he is allowed a tiny half-cup of a scrambled-egg-like concoction.  I don’t want to eat in front of him so my only intake was a California Roll on the run when my husband came in to spell me.  He is starving and being pretty good about it and I am showing solidarity.  Maybe the change in metabolism is holding my emotions in place this time.  I feel pretty ethereal about it all.  Ah, what hunger can’t do?  That’s why people do cleansing fasts, right Oprah?

I would be happy to vote these hospital stays right out of my life but I do try to focus on the good parts of it.  We bond as a family more deeply each time we support each other through it.  Wyatt and I have had a special connection that was cemented with our first round of hospital visits. Another plus is that our learning curve is getting shorter every time which allows us to help other parents in similar situations.  We have even been ‘coaching’ our room mates here in the hospital who have had less time to prepare for this than we have. 

As we enter night two and tomorrow, day three, I am hopeful that we’ve made the right decision and that all will be well.