Some thoughts on hunger

Hi my name is Liz and I want things. I want a lot of things that I often don’t get. I feel like wanting is bad for me. Every time I don’t get what I want I get sad and I just want more. It’s a never ending cycle of want. I’ve tried to stop wanting multiple times. I just think that if I could stop wanting or stop caring then I’d be happier. I’d live a better life maybe. If I could just figure out how to stop it, it would all be better. Or if I could just satisfy this unending want maybe it would stop. Forever. The things I want control me.

Hunger. When I’m hungry I should eat, then I won’t be hungry. Right? That’s how it works right? But sometimes I’m not allowed to eat. Like when I’m at work. Or when I forget my wallet and can’t buy lunch. Or sometimes I really just want a chocolate cake but I simply do not have the means to get it. So I think about chocolate cake. And I keep thinking about it. And I try eating chocolate chips in the hopes that they satisfy me and they do for a while but inevitably, the chocolate cake comes back. I still want it, till finally I bike to Smith’s and I peruse the cakes, or the donuts or whatever I want so badly, and I buy one. And I take it home and I eat that damn cake that vexed me for all that time. And it’s satisfying.

And then a week or a month or even a year later, I want chocolate cake. Again.

Is it wrong to want chocolate cake? No. Chocolate cake is delicious. It can be a really beautiful thing. Is it wrong to eat chocolate cake? Not inherently so, no. I mean people will tell you not to eat in excess because you’ll get fat and die or something. It’s ok in moderation. That’s the word we use right? Moderation. Or it’s ok on special occasions like birthday parties or other cake eating events. It’s ok at the right time and it’s ok as long as you don’t get carried away. But what if I want to eat that whole chocolate cake? What if I want to eat 12 chocolate cakes? And just eat them one after the other. Just stuff them in my mouth. Even if I puke. Even if it makes me terribly ill. Even if I get fat and die. What if I want those cakes so badly I buy one everyday and just relish eating it? And get frosting all over my face and hands just gouging out handfuls of this cake….cake everywhere….

But that’s just crazy. And disgusting. I mean, who really eats 12 cakes right? Pffft ridiculous. Even if I wanted to, the consequences are just too dire. I mean, I don’t want to get fat and die. And I don’t want everyone to think I’m a fatty or obsessed with cake. I mean jeez Liz. Control yourself. You’re better than that. You’re better than that chocolate cake. And you’re only going to buy healthy foods and eat those instead of cake. And avoid the bakery section of Smith’s and avoid birthday parties lest you fall to temptation. I mean one bite of that cake and it’s all over… deliciously over… everything you’ve worked for gone down the drain. You will get fat and die…. Just don’t think about the cake… Don’t think about how the creamy frosting lingers in your mouth…. How the rich almost brownie-like pieces almost melt at contact with your lips… pure flavor… that you absolutely CANNOT have. Ever. Don’t eat the cake… no cake. No more cake. Never. Don’t think about the cake. The cake the cake thecakethecakecakecakecakecakecakecake….

CAKE. I still always want it. No matter what I do, the cake is always there, just bringing me misery. If I could just get rid of this hunger, my life would be better. Or if people would just effing stop making cakes  I wouldn’t be plagued by the cake. It wouldn’t even matter!! How I wish it wouldn’t matter. Cakecakecakecakecake.

But what if I buy the cake. And I eat it slowly, savoring every bite. What if I consider every crumb and ask it, “are you what I really want?” What if I was open to the idea that maybe that cake is just a cake. Or that maybe, the cake isn’t what I really want. Or maybe it is. But am I open to it being either? Am I open to throwing the cake in the trash if it’s not really what I want/ Am I open to really considering that I’m filling a void for something else?

What if I do really just want cake and that’s all there is to it… What then? Well… do I have to eat the cake? Is it forcing me to eat it? Will I die? Will I die if I don’t get what I want? What if it was ok to be hungry. Do I have to eat when I’m hungry? Do I have to play this game? What if I could look square at that cake say and say “I want you” and know that if I don’t buy it, I will be ok. Because I’m a cake loving monster and I don’t care who knows it! I love chocolate cake! But I can leave that cake behind and save it for when I truly want it. And even if I never get even the smallest piece of cake ever again, my life will not be over. Because it was never about the cake at all.

It is ok to be hungry.

And it’s ok to eat cake.

Squaw Peak

I love biking.

About a month and a half ago I decided to bike up Squaw Peak. I figured it would be a good ride,   I’d never done it before, and I love exploring up in Provo canyon. And I mean maybe I’d meet some hot biker guy and we’d race to the top and then make out and then we’d get married after biking across America together and then...

It’s probably bad that I am frequently boarding this train of thought.

Annnnnyway. I thought it would be a good ride. I had no idea what I was getting into. So I packed up my camelback, donned my shortest spandex in hopes of getting a tan and left. After the 8 miles of steady incline to get to Squaw Peak road, I started the climb. I learned later that the climb consisted of 4 miles of switch-backs and unrelenting hills with literally no flat sections. I also learned later that at 2 in the afternoon when I attempted the climb it was about 95 degrees outside. I’m not sure what I expected to be honest with you. I mean, I was attempting to bike up a mountain in the middle of June. And I didn’t even have my cool clip-in pedals so I didn’t have nearly enough power as I do now.

The first 2 switch-backs were bad, I was already in my lowest gears and I realized I needed to adjust my seat. So I pulled over and watched as several muscular men with calves as big as their thighs passed me, asking if I was ok. I just nodded, slightly ashamed. I had no idea.

It was good I didn’t ask them how much farther it would be to the top of the mountain because I probably would have given up right then. But I decided as I mounted again that I didn’t care what I had to do to get to the top – I would get there even if I had to crawl.

I couldn’t handle more than one switch-back at a time biking so I alternated walking and riding. Several times I broke down and cried and every time I wiped my tears away quickly as another biker passed me. I wasn’t even sure what were tears and what was sweat.

I couldn’t help but think I wasn’t good enough or strong enough or fit enough or legitimate enough. I couldn’t help but hate my inferior bike and how I ran out of water about half way up. Or how unprepared I was. The hills just never stopped. There was never a moment of respite. Some cars that passed me were clearly struggling up the incline. I had no idea how hard it was going to be.

When I finally reached the top, slightly delirious from dehydration and sunburn, I fell to the ground and didn’t move for a good 20 minutes. Crying. My legs were Jell-O. I felt like I was going to die. I lost everything I had eaten that day. I was a mess. And I’m pretty sure I made the couple who was up there taking romantic pictures worry a little bit. But whatever. All I could think was “Why God? Why was that so hard? Why did you make it so hard?”

Except it was after I thought these things (and done my share of cursing at the universe out loud) that I clearly remember thinking (hearing?), “Liz, you did this to yourself”, in one of the clearest, most comforting realizations I’d been given in a long time.

I had no idea how hard Squaw Peak would be. No one asked me to do it. Yet I’ve always been one to learn the hard way… I did what I wanted and I have so much trouble giving up what I want. That mountain was there, sure, but I didn’t have to climb it. Not that it was inherently a bad thing to climb it – it’s a perfectly worthy endeavor. But I wasn’t ready for it. It was I who jumped in, in all my naivety. I overestimated myself and it was I who thought God was out to get me. But really He was the only way I could find relief.

So there at the top of the mountain, I saw where I had came from and where I’d chosen to be. And even though I didn’t even bike the whole way, even though I felt like it was too much, it never was. And even though I blamed God and the universe for beating me down, I realized who was really responsible and I finally felt accepted for who I am and I acknowledged who I am – a child who the universe loves regardless of which mountains I choose to climb and what mistakes I make along the way. I felt loved.

The kicker was I didn’t get what I had originally wanted and I wasn’t who I thought I was. But that was ok.

I tried to climb Squaw Peak again today. With my new clip-in pedals and shoes, twice the amount of water, and with a different attitude. I still didn’t make it. And that was ok. 

Some thought on what it means to be honest

"Love is the only way to grasp another human being in the innermost core of his personality" -Viktor Frankl

Being honest… is not as simple as it sounds. It’s not just being able to say “yes Roommate, I ate your pizza rolls” when she asks angrily. It’s not just telling someone what you think in the moment. It’s not just not lying. It’s feeling. It’s expressing what you feel.  Even when it may hurt you or the other person. Even when you might lose something.

Being truly honest requires an acknowledgement of the fact we have no control. That even with our best efforts, we might still lose what we are desperately trying to keep. It also requires knowing that pain isn’t inherently a bad thing and in fact might be one of the greatest gifts we can give.

I see this – I feel this – a lot in relationships. Especially romantic ones. I mean we have all these “rules” right? Like don’t be the one to text first, don’t act too clingy, if he does ____  it means ____ etc etc etc. Even if you don’t believe in rules, it’s hard not to get sucked into patterns of behavior or states of mind in a relationship. Suddenly when you feel everything start to fall apart it becomes a game of should have’s and keeping quiet. I shouldn’t have done ____ , If only I had ____, I can’t say the wrong thing or I might drive so-and-so away, what will he think if I do ____, I don’t want to seem too clingy or like I’m invested more in this than so-and-so….

These are surface-y examples but even in deeper into relationships we feel the need to protect and to hide in order not to hurt the other person.  I frequently hear people say “I just don’t want to hurt anyone”. So it’s a game of trying to guess what other people want to hear and hiding what’s inside. On the surface, it’s a noble thought but ultimately it blocks any potential of being genuine and hurts much more than it would if the truth were on the table

What do we think we can do by protecting people or following the rules? I think I can control the situation. I think that if I do “X” I’ll get “Y”. While this may be true on some occasions, when we expect a “Y” from another human being, we assume we can control them or manipulate them to get what we want. Does this seem a little wrong to you? It does to me…  but feeling like I have some control is so much easier and less painful than feeling like I don’t… and it’s not vulnerable. Maybe people won’t leave me if I do X. Maybe I can avoid conflict altogether. My feelings don’t matter that much anyway right? What I’m feeling is stupid. I’ll get over it. It won’t matter in the long run anyway. It’s ok if people don’t know what I really think or feel…

But what happens when I'm not honest? I live a lie. Seems logical: if I'm not honest, I'm lying. But what does that really mean? What does it mean to lie to people and what kind of implications does this have? I lie to people all the time. I lie and say I'm good when people ask how my day is. I lie when I'm really annoyed with someone but don't want to tell them because it might cause a "problem". I lie when I'm angry at people for the same reason. I lie when people hurt me because I don't want them to hurt too. I lie when I'm trying to get something and do things I don't agree with. I lie when I am only the empathetic listener in all of my relationships but never share what I really feel. I live a lie. And what happens? No one ever knows me. I shut people out. I treat people like they are something to be controlled. I lose the opportunity to have genuine interactions with people - to express my hurt, and to let them do the same. I would even go as far as to say I lose a a part of my humanity... because I'm no longer allowed to be me and no longer allowed to feel and express what humans feel: hurt, anger, sadness, etc.   

The sad thing is, I would give a lot to know what people thought about me or what they feel when I’m around. I would give a lot for someone to call me out on this crap. I would give a lot for someone to yell at me and make me engage with them honestly. I would give a lot if someone would give up their own fear and BE with me in the moment. For someone to be themselves and give me permission to be me as well. And I want to be brave enough to do the same. I guess the way I see it is being honest is akin to giving another person everything I have. I think that’s the greatest gift anyone can give. It’s how we can grow, it’s how we can acknowledge our faults and our strengths, and it’s how we can give another important gifts and insights into their own self as well as figuring out our own. It’s how we can love. Truly love. Without expectation. Without idealization. Being and the giving someone else the opportunity to know you and choose to leave or stay on their own right. I mean, that’s one of the most beautiful things about love, right? When someone can see all of me and still accept me for exactly what I am and what I am becoming. To have all my flaws and strengths on the table, open and still have someone say they want to be with me. Yes, there is the potential of losing everything and some, maybe even most, people will walk away. And that hurts. A lot. But the possibility to be more is there. To truly love. Being honest is loving and inviting others to love.

Fear

“I must learn to love the fool in me--the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of my human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my Fool.” ― Theodore Isaac Rubin

Why hello people who read my blog. It’s been a long time. I haven’t wanted to write. And I’ve been a little too busy with some…. interesting struggles... to write. Let me elaborate a little.

I’m not afraid of loneliness, yet I claim it’s my deepest fear. When struck with the possibility that my plans won’t work out, thinking I might forever be lonely is just walking back to a place I know very well. It’s a dark place that smells melancholy and houses the Liz’s I never want to be. They sit there forlornly playing their regular games and uttering habitual conversation. Though it is an unhappy place, it is familiar. It doesn’t change. It is expected. It is dependable. Though it is a hopeless place, it is safe and I can lock everyone else out. Loneliness does not scare me, it is only an extension of what I’ve acknowledged as a solution before. Whenever fallen, it is automatically the answer. Whenever lost, I can always go back here.

What is really frightening is the unfamiliar. Venturing into a place full of hope for something more is something I have only begun to try. There is no door except the one you step out of. It is a vulnerable place. It is a place with no promise of something better, but holds every possibility. Bright and wild, it takes my breathe away… not as a tax like loneliness does, but as participation in life, as a tribute.  Breathing is a burden in loneliness. It is a labor, a struggle, a constant unnecessary “why?”. Breathing in a place where hope resides is liberating, vital, and purposeful, yet terrifying. Because while it is great to be alive, I never know which breathe will be my last.

This is analogous of course. I’m not literally dying or choosing to be alive in the physical sense. But in an existential sense, this is all very real. Death is bigger than simply being buried in the ground, it is the essence of why we – why I – am afraid. I’m afraid of losing the future. The death of the future. I’m afraid of losing relationships. The death of relationships. I’m afraid of losing the safety I’ve built for myself. The death of a Liz I’ve come to know well. I don’t know which breath will be my last.

Yet, my future was never guaranteed. My relationships are not completely in my hands. I cannot help but change as I continue to live. I have no control. And that’s terrifying. So I run away and hide and pretend I do have control. And to some degree I do: I can choose to venture forward into the unknown and be who I am regardless of outcome and have the possibility of the one thing I want most, or, I can hide and imprison myself in perpetual loneliness where no one can come in.

Seems like an easy choice, but surprise, surprise, changing who I’ve been basically my whole life is effing hard.

That’s why I haven’t wanted to write. I have about a dozen half finished blog posts all about things that I am only beginning to understand. All not finished because feeling can be really hard and lately my life has been hard and this huge change has been hard and I’m scared of letting everyone know. Everyone meaning the 3 people that read this anyway haha.

I’m done being afraid. 

Speed Limit Enforced By Aircraft

I love lying to people.

That's not true.

I love making up stories and trying to get people to believe absolutely ridiculous explanations for very regular phenomena.  I'm not sure why I do this or why I think it's so amusing, but it is. Most of my humor is very sarcastic and hyperbolic and the funny thing is, I'm pretty successful at getting people to believe what I'm saying. Like the time I convinced my brother that frog-eye salad is really made from frog eyes leading him to exclaim, "that's a lot of frogs!". Or when I convinced him that pasta grows from trees that originated in a pasta forest in Italy. Or that time when I convinced my other brother that a piece of wood was organic chicken and actually got him to eat it. Many of my lies are about food...

So I was in California a couple of weekends ago, and I'm always amused on my drive there because of these:

Really? Enforced by aircraft? Like California really has money to spend on jet fuel for planes to enforce the speed limit on I-15. That's not expensive or anything... So I did some EXTENSIVE research on the topic (i.e. I googled it). According to various, sketchy open internet forums full of apparent experts on speed limit enforcement, the topic is quite controversial. Some people claim to have been caught speeding by aircrafts who use little white flags on the highway to judge the speed of vehicles. When an aircraft identifies the offending vehicle they radio it in to a state trooper. Other people say, these signs were put up in the 90's when people thought aircraft enforcement would be economical. It wasn't, and it wasn't economical to take all the signs down either, so speed on. And still others say it's simply a psychological trick to make people think they're being watched so they obey the law.

So what's the real reason? What do these signs really mean?

There is surprisingly little, credible information on these signs, which led me to ask, "why is there so little credible information on these signs?" The answer is obvious. If we, as humans with little funds for such endeavors, were to enforce speed limits by aircraft, we would be wasting tons of money and time. Something bigger is afoot. Something bigger than a psychological trick to get us to obey the law. Maybe there's no information because it's kept secret and because no one who knows more has lived to tell the tale.

Speed enforced by aircraft means one thing: aliens. In the 1990's when these signs first appeared, the government was working on an intergalactic treaty with an alien life form. These aliens, being highly intelligent and way more advanced than us humans, were threatening to destroy the earth and use us as slaves for their own technological advancement. However, these aliens were surprised by our intelligence, not because it was anywhere close to their own, but because humans were intelligent enough to be protected by their ethical code for preserving intelligent life. But they still needed us for their own gain and were power-hungry enough to threaten world leaders, so they demanded a small portion of the human population as payment for not destroying Earth. After careful deliberation, alien experts and world leaders decided the most effective way to do this would be to have the aliens abduct people who break the law, namely, people who speed. All people who speed in designated areas are no longer protected by human, earthly laws but are under the jurisdiction of alien life forms who have free reign to do whatever they want with them. These areas would be well marked by signs saying "Speed enforced by aircraft" in order to warn those traveling to reduce their speed but not let on that other life-forms exist; secrecy was key because as soon as people began to catch on, the aliens might retract their agreement and destroy Earth anyway. And so it began. Since then, anyone caught speeding by the aliens has been beamed up into a spaceship and probably experimented upon, eaten, or cloned for slave labor. That's why no one knows what these signs mean.

Don't ever speed on I-15.

By the way, these are the same aliens depicted in the movie Cowboys and Aliens. This movie was only a flop because the government got wind of how accurate and awesome it was turning out to be and didn't want the Earth to be destroyed because of it. So they demanded that Jon Favreau and the writers of the movie make it slightly less awesome, and demanded that Harrison Ford not be an amazing actor in order to save the human race. It's ok Harrison, we know what really happened there and thanks for saving the world like you always do.

Something Greater

In 10^th grade during a free day in chemistry class, we watched a documentary. For those who don’t know, “documentary” is pronounced with the “ary” at the end, not a “tree”. Document-ARY. Yeah. Anyway, so this documentary was about these two French volcanologists (volcano scientists. Cool right?) who met in college, got married and became pioneers in filming volcanic eruptions. They traveled the world together, taking video and pictures of the world’s most active volcanoes. Nothing like this had ever really been done before. They wrote books together. They literally saved lives by showing footage of a volcano that was about to erupt to the president of Columbia who then ordered an evacuation. But in 1991, while scaling the side of an active volcano, they miscalculated the weak side of the mountain, the volcano erupted and they were killed instantly.

I remember sitting next to a friend of mine, who, after the film ended, said “Wow. That’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Studying volcanoes is a stupid thing to do”. I was completely baffled by his response... because here I was thinking that the story of Katia and Maurice Krafft was one of the most beautiful, tragic, inspiring stories I’d ever heard.  That what they had is the only thing I want.  Not that I want to die in a volcanic eruption (even though that would be pretty epic) or that it’s a good thing they died prematurely, but they had something that so rarely is so explicit. They had passion.

Not only passion for each other, but passion for something greater than them both. I don't remember the quote exactly but Katia said of their relationship that they loved volcanoes, and they loved each other, and ultimately their love could not exist without volcanoes because that's what brought them together. They were a team. Not only with each other but with the volcanoes they studied. Maurice called the volcanoes their "friends" because they had built a relationship with them. They committed themselves to each other and to geology. They committed to walk where no one else was brave enough to walk. Am I the only one who sees how absolutely amazing they were? How brave and bold and how alive they were? They expressed volcanoes never scared them. Coincidentally, Maurice said the day before they died "I am never afraid because I have seen so much eruptions in 23 years that even if I die tomorrow, I don't care". They were that committed...

Then they died together, by the very thing that brought them together. They had accepted death long before this moment, and accepted the power volcanoes had, and how they could never control what would happen to them. They were not afraid to live, to pursue, to love, even though they knew of the potential to get hurt, to die even, Yet they didn't ignore the possibility of pain, they accepted it and respected it.They were submissive, yet bold. They accepted fate, and forged ahead anyway. And they did so together, in pursuit of the truth. How honorable and fitting is it that they died together, with the very things they loved? What more could we ask for than a life filled with passion and love and purpose? What more could we ask for than a life committed to something greater?

Now obviously, I don't know Katia and Maurice. I don't know how their lives really were... I only know what I've read and what I've seen and the impact they had on the world. I don't know if their relationship was perfect, in fact, I doubt it was. I don't know if everything presented to me was truth. But regardless of  what I don't know, I do know that if I had the love they had, I wouldn't be afraid either. Even though most of us aren't going to find true love by studying volcanoes, maybe their story is representative of what we all can have by loving others and committing to something greater.

What I do at the mall

 Malls are fun. There's fun things to try on and never buy, really greasy food, and, most importantly, dozens of people to watch. Normal people, weird people, tired people, efficient people, people with relationship problems, rebels without a cause, bored cashiers, people trying to sell you things.... the list goes on and on. And the stuff you can do while people watching is endless.

Typically when I go to the mall, I'm the one watching other people but today, I was the weird person at the mall. I was the person people were watching, trying to figure out my motives. I even caught the gaze of people who were not invested in people watching.

See, for my sociology project I have to take pictures of commodified space, like a mall for instance. This mall in particular is structured to make you feel like you're outdoors, using natural lighting, real trees, and store fronts made to look like buildings, etc. Anyway, since I don't have a car I had to bike there and of course I dressed in my biking spandex which makes me look like a lame superhero. And I kept my helmet on because I didn't want to lose it. So there I was, in the mall, dressed head to toe in spandex, wearing a helmet and taking pictures of store fronts and the ceiling.

It was after catching a confused look from a couple who had been previously been making out that I decided to have a little fun. Instead of casually taking pictures like a person asked to do so for a research paper, I went undercover, hiding behind plants and dashing to and from hiding spots like a spy or an undercover agent or a private eye or a very childish college student wearing spandex.

What did I accomplish from my endeavors? I got plenty of stellar pictures (and plenty of blurry ones as I tried to take them mid-sprint), made a couple people laugh (including a pretty hot kiosk guy that was selling remote control helicopters) and I accidentally broke the lens protector off my camera. Was it worth it? That has yet to be decided by figuring out how long the warranty lasts on my camera. But other than that, it totally was!