Week 13

The last week of the program begins today, following a three-day buffer zone. 

The buffer zone gives us a chance to think about whatever enhancements are offered, to shop, to try things out, to stay where we are, to throw ourselves into the next thing. It's all about choice. The enhancement for this week is to throw us completely into the realm of choice. The metaphor used is it's our first solo flight, the coach and program leader are in the tower speaking to us, but we've got the controls. There's also supported experimentation. I've tried a couple of things so far ~ a little bit of cheese, a little bit of butter, and a cup of tea. One a day, to gauge the body's response. The cup of tea was the most surprising.

I really wanted to love it. I didn't love it.

Almost immediately, I felt the cascade of caffeine effect in my body. It was a stunning discovery that, once cleared of years of daily black tea, I was so sensitive to its effects. I had four or five slow sips and poured the rest down the sink. 

I'm grieving a bit.

I thought for sure I'd want to bring it back. 

I need to step back and re-evaluate.  

So, just to be clear. Please don't tell me that there's always herbal tea. 

That's like telling someone they'll find love again after a painful break-up.

It may be true, but now is not the time to say it. Also, it may not be true. 

It's not always easy to make the choices that are good for you. I probably could train myself to drink black tea again. Begin with diluted versions of it, the way I weaned myself off of it. Work my way back to a teaspoon of loose leaves for a cup of tea. Yesterday afternoon when I tried it, I made it full-strength. One teaspoon of loose leaves. Freshly-boiled filtered water. The perfect steeping time of 3-4 minutes. Darjeeling. My favorite. I still enjoy the tender bitterness of the first sip. Warm and wonderful in the four o'clock hour. Taking a moment just to sit and relish the quiet. 

Unfortunately, the quiet did not last once the caffeine effect came. It felt as if there was frenetic activity in my blood. I could feel every bit of it. And I just wanted it to stop. About an hour or so later, I felt clear and focused. That, actually, felt good. But I did not like they way I felt before getting there. Still, I can imagine myself having a cup of tea after a rich, restaurant meal or as part of a cream tea. There may be a time I choose one or the other. 

I haven't put them below the line.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She askes big questions of the small things in life.

Haagen Das Is a Processed Food

As I was thinking about my non-negotiables going forward, things l am putting below the line and will not put in my body any more, I came up with three things that I just can't see myself eating again. Soda. Artificial sweeteners. Processed foods. 

I was under a bit of pressure to come up with something quickly. I'd frozen the first time we did the exercise and was determined to make a declaration the second. There had to be something, after all this time, that I can confidently say I will no longer eat. 

I may be refining the list a little. Or adding to it. 

Soda still feels right to me. To put it on the list, that is. When I want it, it's more emotional than anything else. Dr. Pepper tastes like my teen years and Coke or Pepsi taste like my childhood. But it's clearly more poison than food. There is absolutely no nutritional value to it. I will say that a can of coke did help me out on a particularly long paddle when I was exhausted and needed a quick burst of energy to finish. It was there in a pinch. It could be that a tablespoon of raw honey would do the same thing and not be so damaging to the body.  

Artificial sweeteners are a no brainer. There are no redeeming qualities to them. They are a non-food additive that simply gets stored because the body doesn't know what to do with them. They likely do some damage before they're stored. 

Processed foods. I needed to rethink this one.

I came up with a refinement. Low-quality processed foods. 

The hummus I use with the simple, clean ingredients is processed. Lightly processed, but processed. The salsa verde I buy at the farmers market is also processed. Clean, but processed. The Saratoga Water and other bottled mineral waters I love are processed. Pretty much anything you get out of its whole state is processed. Coconut milk. Someone else takes it out of the coconut. Tuna, chicken, beef, lamb, pork, seafood. Someone processes it so I don't have to.

The awareness came to me shortly after I made my declaration. I thought about my beloved chocolate Haagen Das. Processed. I'll have to look at the label again, but I think the ingredients are pretty good. Except . . . 

Except for the conventional dairy. Except for the refined sugar. Except for the processed cocoa, or however they deliver the chocolate in chocolate Haagen Das. 

So, yes, even with its higher-end cost, chocolate Haagen Das is a low-quality processed food.

I was talking with a friend yesterday who mentioned that she doesn't worry about ice cream because she lives in an area with good creameries. And yet . . .

And yet, is the milk produced conventionally? Is there still refined sugar? Anything to help the ice cream stay fresh . . . preservatives? What kinds of other ingredients are in the ice cream?

I can't help but ask these questions, having spent the last three months intensively learning about our food supply and the general lack of regulation here compared with places like the UK and the EU. 

It's been so long since I've had chocolate Haagen Das, I don't think I'll miss it. If I do, I'll think about the emotional attachment. I can no longer just say, "Well, I like it." I'm probably thinking about this today because we're having a celebration after church. One of our members turns 95, and her family is hosting a fellowship time following the worship service. Cake and ice cream. 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

 

Eat a Peach

I'm so happy. 

The peach I cut this morning is sweet, juicy golden deliciousness. After six weeks of limiting nutritional sugars, it's a delight to enjoy them again. I have just a little bit of an idea of what it might have been like in the ancient world. Summer must have been amazing, with its progression of sweet and juicy fruits. I imagine that people lived for the season. 

We're disconnected from natural rhythms. We can get pretty much anything from the store these days. Our understanding of seasonal eating is almost non-existent. It makes sense to me that our bodies evolved to work in concert with the seasons. That we get the nutrients we need to be healthy with seasonal eating. That seasonal eating is the optimal way of eating for good health. That we give our body systems time to rest periodically, for example, giving the pancreas time to rest in winter and most of spring, after the summer and fall splurge of sweet fruits and vegetables.

I started my lifestyle experimentation yesterday. I'm approaching it with both a spirit of play and a spirit of listening. We've been encouraged to experiment with foods we may like to bring back occasionally, one food a day. Yesterday, I experimented with cheese. 

I bought a small piece of four different cheeses, all cow's milk. All high quality. I cut four thin slices and tried them. I was curious whether I would still like cheese and what effect it would have on my body. It was one of the foods I loved when I started the program.

Two of the cheese tasted so bad to me that I was repelled. Two, I loved. I thought it was interesting because I'd bought cheese that I was sure I'd like. About ten minutes later, the underside of my tongue became a little itchy and ten minutes after that I was feeling it in my throat. I'd never reacted to cheese that way before. I had planned to try the cheese right out of the fridge and then an hour later after the chill wore off. I tried a few small pieces of the two I liked on a cheese plate I made for dinner.

I really shouldn't call it a cheese plate because there was so little cheese. 

I included a piece of pastured Canadian bacon I heated on the cast iron skillet, cut into strips, some artichoke hummus and some cut up veg, a few walnut and pecan halves. That was dinner. I really enjoyed it and there was no itchiness.

It made me wonder if things that repel us might not be so good for us. I wonder if we have a built-in system that alerts us to stay away from certain things. Of course, this kind of thing probably only works if we haven't burned out our taste buds with refined sugars and artificial non-food additives. Or when we've recovered them. Like what happens if you've been off sugar for months and then try something with refined sugar. It tastes too sweet and you usually don't want more. 

I'm thinking about what comes next, what today's experiment will be. Until them, I am enjoying this peach and a couple of cherries. It's almost time for my green smoothie. Not sure what lunch will be. I'm listening to my body and hearing what she has to say.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.          

Not Quite Ready to Let Go of the Guide Wire

Even when we think we know what's going to happen, we are surprised.

Here I am, back at the beginning, eating what I normally eat and noticing what I say to myself. The only difference is that I'm eating very differently these days. I started the morning with a big bowl of fruit. It could be Week 2, but it's not. 

As I listened to today's video last night, I realized that I have changed. 

Whispers during the week told of a week to come during which we can experiment and bring back the foods that we think we might like to bring back. I forecast that I would try all kinds of things, from a vodka tonic with lime to wine to cheese to chocolate to pasta to bread, and maybe even chocolate Haagen Das.

Instead, we heard that today is the first day of the rest our lives, and that this week begins the living into piece of things. Not really the program, not really real life. It's a bridge, a threshold, a transition, guided, companioned, but from now on all the choices are ours. 

Of course, the choice has been ours all along. Some in our cohort have been very liberal with their choices and regularly stepped away from the guide wire. Some, "tried" to stick to the plan, but found at times that they wanted to choose something else. I took the invitation to enjoy robust, good health very seriously and went all in. I did not slip or make choices outside the protocol once. I have been fierce with myself around emotionally-driven choices. I am glad I chose this, by the way. 

I thought to myself, how do I know what I really want if I don't give myself the full experience?

How do I know what freedom really feels like if I'm still in thrall to some of my former choices?

I imagined a week of cautious experimentation. I suppose it can be this if that's what I want but, now that I'm here, I'm not sure I want that. I like the way I feel with the way I am eating, and I am not sure I want to reintroduce things that might upset the good health and weight release I am experiencing. What is the adage? Nothing tastes as good as good health feels.

We were invited to take a piece of paper and create four categories: 

Essential

Optional

Rare/Occasional

Rejected (I don't do that.)

We are invited to begin to put foods into these categories. The first two are pretty straightforward and are organized around the seasonal principles. The final is the core of what this time has been all about. It speaks to identity, self love, self respect, declaration. Some may be very clear about what goes here, others may not. The third gives us a way to work through what remains challenging.

Vegetables, fruit (seasonally), healthy proteins and fats, and water are essential to our good health and vitality. Optional foods don't cause most people challenges. They include things we can have, but maybe not daily, like avocado, red and yellow peppers, tomatoes, sweet potato.  

We might have Rare/Occasional choices from time to time, but they may not be the best choices for us. Things like sprouted grain beads, chocolate, tea and coffee. The items we are not quite ready to reject, but things that can cause issues with our health if we make a habit of them. We might choose them because they are connected to occasions and are probably, more often than not, emotional choices, like a glass of champagne to toast the couple at a wedding. These choices should be the highest quality possible.

At the end of the video, we were invited to call out foods that live below the line from now on. I had a hard time with this. I can't yet see myself putting things like wheat and dairy there, even though clearly they are not good for me. I can't see putting wine there or tea or chocolate. The first time he did the exercise, I froze. 

He gave us another chance. Call out three things, he said, that are below the line for you now. Things you can say, "I don't do that." This time I could. I said, "Soda. Artificial sweeteners. Low-quality processed foods."

It's a start.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

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A New Wilderness

This one starts out with companions, and then I may find myself suddenly alone. 

We receive the final set of enhancements this evening, as the clock strikes midnight GMT. Tomorrow Fall begins. I'll learn more about it on tonight's video, but the essence is the abundance of everything and many choices. It's the freedom season in the framework, and the last week of the program will be learning how to navigate all the choices, and then how to cycle the seasons. In a little over a week, there will be no one to tell me what to eat and not to eat. I'll be telling me.

Oh man.

For now, I think I'll just slide back my look ahead and notice that this Wilderness I've just stepped into will have a variety of landscapes to navigate. I marvel at the thought of passing through such a diverse ecosystem. 

A trip to the Princeton Farmer's Market is part of my plan for the day. It's peach season! And I'm off to buy some of that juicy, golden goodness. It's also sunflower season. I'm hoping to find sunflowers with golden centers today. I'd love to bring a whole armful home, but I'll settle for three. Or maybe two or three or four bouquets of three. Adorn all my rooms. 

Swimming is on my books for the day as well. I've been swimming three times a week, and I've noticed I am building muscle and strength and endurance. Tomorrow morning I'll take my measurements again and the "after" pictures. I'll put them side by side and see what I can see. There are so many metrics available to me. So many things to notice. I put it all in my daypack as I set out in this new landscape.

We've been asked to make a list of the foods we'd like to bring back and try. Things we're thinking right now we might like to re-introduce going forward. I have a small notepad that I picked up one day when I was thinking about this. After listing about 12 things, I made a note ~

I really don't want anything to be off limits. I'd like to keep the freedom to choose.

and

There are a lot of things I think about eating once a year.

I think about vacations and evenings out and the odd hankerin' for something that reminds me of childhood. Yes, some of this is emotional in nature, and I wonder if all emotional eating is unsupportive of good health? 

It might be. Because saying yes to this can lead to say yes to something else, and because you've said yes to these you figure why not say yes to that as well. It can be a slippery slope. 

I've made no final determinations yet. I haven't passed through the part of the Green Wilderness that will help me figure all this out. I'm still looking ahead it seems. Bringing myself back to NOW, I notice it's the last day of spring in the program. The last day of strict adherence, and I wonder how I am feeling about this?

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

Forty Days

Forty days of writing. The second 40 days of my program. Two wilderness journeys, back to back. A third begins tomorrow. 

As I thought about how the late spring and summer might open before me, doing this nutritional and health transformation program, I had a vision of passing through three wilderness periods. The first 40 days. The second 40 days. Of a 90 day program. The messy middle would be shared by the first and second 40 days. I have passed through the messy middle. I think this may be the first time I've noticed. I am ten days away from the end of the program. So, why a third wilderness journey?

It's not about the program. The program is an introduction. A toolbox that's being shared with me. A way in. The first 10 days of the third journey will be the program's end; the next 30 will be the beginning of the rest of my life. How do I transition from program to lifestyle?

As I sit on a boulder here in the Green Wilderness, sipping some water and seeing the end of the second wilderness in the near distance, knowing I will cross the threshold today, of one and into another, I am feeling thoughtful.

I've grown the ability to be more present.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

The Deep Watches of the Night

My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promise.

                                                                                                                    Psalm 119:148 

I lay awake upon my first waking at 2:05 thinking that I might be grieving the end of the water fast. I think to myself that it is a crazy idea, but then I think some more. The essence of Winter, in the cosmology of the program, is rest. Deep rest. This may be what I am grieving. Deep rest was one of the gifts of the 72-hour water fast, and I drank it up like the water that sustained me. 

One of the things that fell away during Covid, was the regular time I took away for rest and refreshment. I am not talking about vacations here, but retreat time. Time away from screens, time away from doing, time away from being available for others. Time for solitude and deep thought, reflection, contemplation, nature and wild places. 

I got up at 3:05. Felt frustrated at not being able to fall back to sleep. I've had nights plagued by the two sleeps before. Plagued. A strong word. It often feels this way to me, and the next day I do not feel my best. Usually. 

I decided to write, here and in my morning journal. See what might emerge in the deep watches of the night. The watches of the night, historically, biblically, are times the guard is set. While most sleep, others stand guard. This is the darkest part of the night, this time when I am awake and writing. Some say it's the time of our greatest creativity. I just feel tired, and awake enough that sleep does not come.

I sit and stare at the words for a long time. 

I begin to feel a heaviness settle upon me. And think I might be able to sleep again.  

I think of a line from Longfellow . . .

 

In the long, sleepless watches of the night . . . 

. . . and of what we mine here.

                                               

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

I've referenced the poem, The Cross of Snow, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Take It Easy

The fast is broken. It's the morning after. Day three was interesting and the most challenging. It reminds me not to put my faith in what's usual. 

I woke with a headache and was feeling hungry. This did not happened the first two days. My immediate thought was a wish for a few more hours of sleep. But there was worship to lead, a meeting, and an unexpected hospital visit. So I got up and had some water. The headache and hunger eased. I thought to myself, "Wow. I thought this was supposed to be the best day. Energy. Clarity, Surging well-being." 

I did my normal morning routine of writing in my morning journal and writing for the blog. I showered and got dressed. I jotted down my final notes for my sermon. And then the lightheadedness hit. A jolt of surprise. 

There was chicken broth at the ready in the fridge. I heated some on the stove and put it in a small travel mug, diluted, and sipped it for the next hour until worship began. I added about a half teaspoon of Celtic salt to my broth and also to my water bottle, and melted some on my tongue. That worked beautifully to ease the lightheadedness. Worship went beautifully, as did the rest of the morning. I was feeling the promised energy, clarity, and surging well-being. I also felt deeply grounded and light at the same time.

I had planned a gentle swim and some time in the steam room but, as the day went on, I was not feeling like that was something I wanted to do. It was an intuition. Rest was calling to me again, so after my work responsibilities I went home. Had some spearmint "tea" with freshly snipped spearmint from the garden and talked with a friend on Zoom. 

As the afternoon wore on, I felt less well. I don't know why I didn't think to lie down and have a nap. Probably because I did not want to mess with my nighttime sleep. I got drawn into a documentary on YouTube about New Haven Pizza. I found myself dreaming up ways I could take a train trip and pizza tour. I even looked at train schedules and narrowed down the three pizza places I'd visit - Pepe's, Sally's, and Modern. They were the three featured in the documentary. It was a strange fasting occupation. 

What I was feeling, I think, was my body coming to the end of the 72-hour water fast. My plan had been to sip on chicken broth to break the fast Sunday evening after 7, and then to have a green smoothie in the morning, a light lunch on Monday, and then dinner. All very common sense. But, the message I was getting was that I wanted food. I am still trying to figure out if that was emotional hunger or nutritional hunger. My plan certainly would have fed my nutritional needs, but I was having none of that plan. Instead, I broke the fast at 7:30 with a light meal: a salad of baby lettuces, a tiny avocado, cut up, a few marinated artichoke hearts I had leftover from earlier in the week, a light vinaigrette, and some shrimp for protein. It was probably a mistake. It sat heavily, and I had a cup of chamomile and lavender tea an hour later to try to settle my stomach. I'm still feeling it this morning. Lesson learned.

The most interesting feeling yesterday was the empty stomach feeling. I think I would have enjoyed the lightness of it more if I'd planned the fast so I was not working on the third day and could rest when needed and attend only to myself. It was an interesting experiment in how I work with expectation vs. presence. I'd like to do it again sometime because I really did enjoy it. I am not sure enjoy is the right word. I don't know if there is a right word to express the way I felt moving through it. Benefit comes to mind.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

Take It to the Limit

Day three begins.

I slept well and long last night. Could have stayed in bed a few more hours. Woke with some congestion and a little bit of a headache. Now that I'm am upright and have had some water, that's easing a bit. I feel quietly reflective.

If I tell the truth, I will confess that I crave solitude this morning. Two hours from now, I'll be welcoming people to worship so I need to shift some things in my mindset. I'll have a shower and wash away all that's come before. Some disappointment about yesterday's massage and whatever is bubbling up from my inner depths. This is probably the treasure of the experience. There will be time later today for more of that. I can shift easily in and out of what needs to happen today. 

The massage. I went to a local Hand and Stone, because I could get a quick appointment. I booked a hot stone massage. I expected long, slow, relaxing strokes, but the therapist was percussive with the stones and seemed to want to dig out my knots in a single 50-minute treatment time. I'd asked for a relaxing massage with medium pressure. Well, it was a learning experience, and there was enough enjoyment with the feeling of the hot stones that it wasn't a total loss. I've found that, as in many things, an actual relationship with a massage therapist yields the best results. But sometimes you just need a massage, and even a stranger should be able to understand what "relaxing" means. 

I went straight from there to get a mani-pedi. My nail salon is a few doors down from the Hand and Stone. Spent some time on the phone with my cousin again. Watched a little tv. First time I turned it on during the fast. And then went to bed. Only got up once last night. 

I was prepared for a challenging day yesterday, but I felt fine. When I began to feel a little hungry or headachy, I had some water. Today I'm preparing for the empty stomach sensation I've heard so much about. I am still curious.

I will say that while I was out I kept noticing restaurants. More than usual. When I got home I kept thinking about food. I was looking at recipes and thinking about foods I would enjoy. Especially since in about a week, we will begin to bring some foods back to see how we feel while having them. They've asked us to begin to make a list of the foods we might like to try to bring back. It's a weird request to give a bunch of people who are on a three-day water fast. But there's also some humor in it, at least I'm seeing some humor. I'm grateful I can see the humor.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Peaceful Easy Feeling

I've taken off all my jewelry.

So no sparkling earrings against my skin today. No gold necklace around my neck. No rings. No watch. No bracelet. I feel a little like Inanna descending to the Underworld to meet her sister Erishkigal, except that there is no feeling of foreboding or anticipation. There just is . . . now.

I spent a night catnapping, up and down a few times, the result of drinking about 120 ounces of water throughout the day. Today I'll manage that a little better, I hope. I felt the beginnings of hunger three times yesterday and managed that with water and distraction. I took a nap, slept well and deeply for two hours in the late afternoon. It was restorative. Talked to my cousin for three hours. We had a good catch up. Was able to make the last hour of the monthly Zoom with high school friends. There was an hour-long coaching call with my program at one. I puttered around my kitchen all morning. Unpacked a box I brought from Mom's that's been sitting around the house for a couple of months. I didn't turn on the tv once. That might have been the biggest surprise.

I am feeling the tiredness I've been carrying around for months. Just noticing, and letting it be what it is. I've created space so it can speak if it wants to. So it can be heard. So it can be met. There's no agenda, no to-do list. I am seeing worship tomorrow as part of self-care, even though I am leading and preaching. I wonder if that mindset will be transformational.

The thought comes together like a bubble and floats off.

I'm wearing soft, light clothes today. They feel barely there. I got a little headachy late last night while trying to fall asleep. Could not remember where I'd put my lavender essential oil. Found the bottle sitting on my dresser when I got up this morning.

There are funny little things like this that make me laugh lightly.

The sun is out. The sky is nearly blue. I can see it just behind the light haze. It's soft against the deep green of the leaves on trees.

I notice the beginnings of hunger again. And a little bit of a headache. I have not been sipping my water while writing. It's a gentle message.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

Life In the Fast Lane

I'm as prepared as I can be.

Most of the preparation is mindset. I've made some infused waters. I've snipped some spearmint from the garden for a warm spearmint infusion later this afternoon. There's a pot of chicken broth in the slow cooker that's nearly finished. I've got ingredients for green smoothies. Everything else is put away in the pantry, fridge, and freezer. 

A hot stone massage is scheduled for tomorrow at 1. I have a list of different self-care options accessible in case my mind gets addled. That's a little bit of a joke, the addled part. However, I've never fasted this way, for this long before, so I am not sure what to expect from myself. I do have an idea of what to expect generally. What might be possible. My experience could be different.

In the cosmology of this program, this time is called Winter. The idea is to rest. Biologically, we're giving our digestive systems a chance to rest. The liver, especially, gets to rest and to release the glycogen its been holding, as well as any toxins that may want to go. If weight release has been stubborn, there's an opportunity to signal the body that it's safe to release the fat it may be holding, saving for dire circumstances. 

One of the most interesting parts of this process has been learning that everything we put into our bodies communicates something to our bodies. Our bodies respond or react to this communication. It is completely out of the realm of the mind, or conscious thought. Our thoughts and emotions can support or undermine the messages we're sending, but the body has its own intelligence that goes beyond any other kind of intelligence we possess. 

One of the instructions we received for this optional fast was to set aside time when we can actually rest. Serendipitously, the first two of the three fasting days fall on my weekend. The third is Sunday. That gives me some pause, but what is usual (I use this term with cautious optimism) is energy and clarity on the third day. The second day usually is the most challenging. The first day can be challenging. We've been cautioned that we will feel hungry, and that by the third day, we will feel what an empty stomach feels like. We are invited to notice the difference between an empty stomach feeling and hunger. I have no idea what this means, but I am curious. 

We've been given three options for how to do the fast. The first is a water and herbal infusion fast. This means drink a lot of water, and we may include infused waters and herbal "teas." This is the path I've chosen. 

The second and third options include the first, but with additions. The second allows for sipping chicken broth and the third for sipping chicken broth and green smoothies. I have these available if my body signals I need them. I am hoping to experience what it's like to be completely without food for three days. I've practiced intermittent fasting for years, which uses an eating window, and I've fasted for 24 hours, breaking the fast with a light meal, but I've never gone days without food. Optional also is duration, to do a 1-day or a 3-day fast. A 2-day fast is not recommended since we have been invited to have a positive experience and day 2 is often challenging and may be uncomfortable.

I remember when I did my first long hike in the desert. I looked out over miles of desert and up to the mountains beyond. That was my path. I could not see into the mountains, to the canyon that was where I was headed for the main part of the hike. I feel a little of that now. There's excitement, curiosity, a little bit of wondering what I might encounter that I'd not expected or planned for. I have what I think I need and the only thing to do is to put one foot in front of the other and go. I laugh a little at myself thinking about the tacos and beer I would have when I returned from the desert hike. There'll be none of that here, but Taco Tuesday is coming up in a few days so I can look forward to that. I just won't be thinking about it too much.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.   

Staying Present

Another bowl of fruit sits before me, 12 blackberries and an apricot, the twin of yesterday's morning joy. I imagine what summer must have been like, thousands of years ago, when people lived according to the seasons and according to what nature provided. It must have been the best thing in life. Sweetness. Juiciness. Joy.

For a season. A long one. With it's ongoing array of loveliness. Berries into stone fruits into root vegetables. The rise of light with the sun, and then it's slow draining away as the days grew colder and the bounty from the earth became more substantial. 

Sometimes I wonder about the transition into winter. And what it must have felt like to go from long, sunny, warm days and into the deep cold and darkness. From abundance into lack. The edible green disappears. There might be meat. But even that then disappears. For a season. 

I imagine the first green shoots rising in the earliest days of spring, when snow still covers the ground, sent hearts and hope soaring. I think about gardens today and how some of the first things to come in and be ready to eat are greens. Was that the experience of our early ancestors? Did they look for early greens in places where they'd grown before? 

I suppose I'm thinking about some of this because I'm planning to do the optional three-day fast that begins tomorrow. I think about how fortunate I am that a fast can be optional for me. And if I'm honest, I will admit that there's something about the idea of a water fast that calls up some deep and ancient feelings. I look for clarity about how to describe them. They are not exactly negative or fear-based, but they speak to me about why I would choose a fast when there is so much beautiful food available to eat. 

Why choose a fast, indeed?

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Hello, Old Friend

Fruit, that is.

This morning I'm having 12 plump, juicy blackberries and a rosy-skinned apricot. I'd love to have a peach, but we've been advised to step carefully. So I am. 

Especially since on Friday we have the option to fast for three days. To try another facet of the program. I haven't decided if I'll do it. The information will be released this evening, so I'm a wait-and-see on that one.

For now, I am enjoying the delicate sweetness of the fruit and the ways my deconditioned taste buds capture the subtlety of flavor. In the apricot, I can almost taste my childhood.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

Sing Praises of Sweet Potato Toast

It may be my new favorite thing.

This week's challenge, the enhancements, is to dip our toes into summer (but not too far) and see how some nutritional sugars play with our bodies. So far, so good. The jicama over the weekend did not even take me out of ketosis. Neither did the small amount of sweet potato I had yesterday. We'll see about today's installment of sweet potato, and about the fruit I am adding tomorrow. I am having small, judicious amounts, carefully planned. Only one type of enhancement food at a time.

The idea is to see how our bodies react.

Does our energy diminish? Do we have a return of pain? What happens to our sleep? Our bodies have become so sensitive to what we are putting into them as they heal from the things that aren't so good for them that we're invited to notice and learn from what we are seeing, feeling, and experiencing. That we'll hopefully take this learning into our future food choices. I think that I will, but the naggy little voice inside my head tells another story. I put my hands over my ears and sing, "La la la." 

Sweet potato toast. I've tried to make it in the past, without much success. I did some online research and found a sensible recipe. It turned out beautifully. I used a little almond butter and had two slices for a light lunch. It was so sweet that it felt like dessert. Sometime I'll try it with smashed avocado and smoked salmon, maybe some pickled red onion. I'm thinking up whole buffets of options. But I think I'll like this simplest version the best. I may skip most of the others. 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Pictured: Sweet Potato Toast with Almond Butter. Gobbled up the first piece, and then thought to photograph this goodness. 

Recipe: Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Thinly slice sweet potato, lengthwise or into rounds, beginning in the middle of the potato (or slicing away the rounded edges) to get flat slices. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake for 30 minutes. (Baking time depends on thickness - 1/4 to 1/2 inch slices work best.) Best to "toast" in the oven. 

We Wait for Cooler, Dryer Days

There's haze on the horizon, from the ground to the skies. The sun is out, but its golden goodness is veiled. Tiny breezes shimmer the leaves on trees. There aren't many birds singing this morning. 

The ten-day forecast calls for sun and temperatures in the low 90s and high 80s. A few days may have a few clouds, and there's a chance of rain halfway through. The second half of July charges fiercely, headlong into the dog days of early August.  

It's going to be hot the last 10 days of this Green Wilderness journey. Another 40 days begin after that, but I'm not thinking too much about it yet. In the Wilderness, staying present offers the best chance for smooth passage.

I'll cool myself with green smoothies and salads. Lots of water. I don't have much interest in cooked veg these days and, actually, raw veg is what is most recommended. As is increased water this week. Not sure why, but I find myself craving it and am not having a hard time drinking 10 glasses a day. It might be a good time to read for enjoyment, rather than rush around doing things all day long. Plan, and use my energy efficiently. Get up and walk around at the top of the hour, rather than stay glued to my chair in front of the computer. Continue to swim three times a week. I'm almost strong enough to add yoga.

I tried going back to yoga in the spring. I didn't have the strength. Pain from the Lyme disease infection I had three years ago flared. I had to take a step back and try something else. That's what brought me to this program. 

Restoration to full health and vitality begins with nourishment. And, it turns out, the nourishment of air and water, food and dialogue that helps me understand my patterns. Why and how I do what I do. Conscious participation in my ways of being present to myself, to what is going on in and outside of me. Noticing what I'm taking in, both physically and mentally. Looking at how all this informs how I feel. Using spiritual practice to nourish things that may feel more elusive. 

Entering the Wilderness is always a spiritual journey at its core, and moving through it reminds me that everything else is in service to our spirit. Don't let anyone ever tell you that what we eat or don't eat does not have spiritual impact. What we read or watch or see or hear. 

While the air hung heavy with water yesterday, in the aftermath of the previous days' storms, we heard the news that five people died in the flash floods. Water rose on the road so quickly that cars were swept away. A family of four is missing. Last night we heard that the woman's body has been found. The car, her mother and two children have not been found. Crews were doing a step-by-step riverside search. I have not yet looked this morning to see the updates. The news of these tragedies hangs as heavy as the air. It touches the spirit. All that most of us can do is notice, and offer silent prayer. Appreciate our connection to each other and to the experience that what touches one life touches all life. 

Our services yesterday were disrupted by tech difficulties and equipment failures. I moved a light-weight portable lectern into the center aisle, closer to the members of my congregation. There were no microphones and everything felt closer, more connected. We noticed who could not get to worship because of the high water and road damage. We sang, we prayed, we shared Holy Communion, we blessed prayer shawls. We took in the nourishment of community, of shared spiritual practice, of mutual blessing.

While this Green Wilderness journey is solitary, it stands within a larger communal context. None of us is ever really alone.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.   

Water Hangs Heavy In the Air

It's one of those days when we might want to stay under the covers and catch up on sleep.

Yesterday also was a day like this, when water hangs heavy in the air. I stayed under the covers and caught up on sleep. Last night, I contended with adversaries in battles in my dreams. This morning I wake again to heaviness in the air, and yet the leaves on trees and their branches  move with unexpected breezes. Birds fly across the canvas beyond my windows. I am moving slowly.

The first day of water-filled root veg went fine. The artichoke and roasted garlic hummus came together fabulously. As I suspected, it's a keeper. There's more jicama in the fridge, and more hummus. It makes a great lunch. 

A sweet potato sits among ripening avocados in the bread bowl, waiting for its turn to shine. I've decided on sweet potato "toast" for tomorrow, with almond butter and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Perfect for a light lunch and for energy in the afternoon. On Tuesday, I'll dice it with Vidalia onion, and green pepper that has ripened to orange in my fridge.  Add it to my taco on Tuesday, along with another version of meatballs. This time, a different spice blend and ground chicken instead of pork. Split the pound of ground meat and make half a stuffed pepper for dinner on Monday. I'm thinking of making the curry spice blend I tried on chicken wings a few weeks ago.

Planning continues to be crucial.

In a few minutes it will be time to get ready for church. There's worship, a collection of lunch bags that will be donated, and a leadership meeting. I'll swim later today. Rain is falling again as I think about being in the water. It's nearly invisible it falls so lightly. But it presages the storms that will move through later today. Rain was forecast for the whole time I was in Washington on Thursday and Friday, but the storms did not come until after I headed home. This weekend flooding is forecast with the storms. I am hoping the storms and rain will wash away the heat and humidity that have settled over our area like a heavy pall. I look forward to light breaking through blue skies and cooler, dryer days. 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She askes big questions of the small things in life.  

Keeping My Footing On a Slippery Slope

Okay. Here we go.

Week 11 of the program, the beginning of the end, and of learning to make it a lifestyle. The thing is, I've grown to love the way I'm eating. I've also grown to love the fact that I have been following it impeccably, not slipping even once. So the thought of change feels a little intimidating. 

I hear people in the group talking about how they went to a barbecue or had family over and went full-on rogue, eating so far off the plan I don't know how they got back. I feel myself cringe in horror with each of these stories. It's likely that the cringe comes from the realization that I am vulnerable to this as well if I don't stay conscious around my choices and my goals. To be honest, I don't know that I am always this conscious and goal-driven about things. Mostly, I'm not. I tend to meander toward my goals rather than run at them head-long. 

This is different.

So, we have the new enhancements for the week. We are dipping our toes into the waters of the other seasons. We've been in spring, where there are no nutritional sugars. Actually in a deeper version of spring since we've been so strict with the food choices. We're moving into summer now, where there are some root vegetables and some berries. That's what we're adding this week. I am being measured about this. And I've made a plan.

Today and tomorrow, I am adding a little jicama, a water-heavy root vegetable. It's a nearly perfect food with its low glycemic footprint and the amount of water and nutrients it contains. I've wanted to make a new recipe to try with veggies, so today is the day. It's a grilled artichoke hummus. I'm taking the easy way with this and have bought a good, clean hummus and a jar of marinated grilled artichokes from Trader Joe's. Not crazy about the oil, but I'll drain it away before adding it to the hummus. I'm thinking about whether I want to use the food processor. I'll study the recipe a bit more before I adapt it. I'll drizzle some EVOO on top and sprinkle some smoked paprika and toasted pine nuts. If it tastes as wonderful as I think it will, I'll keep the recipe for when I'm going to a pot luck or to serve guests. 

Monday and Tuesday, I am adding a little sweet potato. I picked one up at the store yesterday with the jicama and artichokes. I have a sneaking suspicion that diced sweet potato will feature in Taco Tuesday. I will likely dice it with some onion and prepare it on the cast iron skillet, whatever I pair it with.

Wednesday and Thursday, I am adding some berries. Hopefully I can find some sweet, juicy plump blackberries somewhere. Just picked. I'll have them in the morning and enjoy their sweetness, which I'll be newly discovering with the change in my taste buds from these months of not having any sugar. 

Otherwise, I'll eat as I've been eating and notice the effects of adding back a little nutritional sugar. And hope I can keep my footing on what might become a slippery slope if I'm not careful.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

It's a Mad World

Inside my inbox today. 

I was away for a day and a half and everything blew up, communications-wise. Nothing bad, just lots to do, to respond to. It's an interesting conundrum, trying to get away in today's world where everything is connected and people expect instant access to you.  

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life..

Two In the Afternoon

It's been years since I've been to a café to write.

Before Covid. The new B.C. 

I'm spending a few days at the Washington house. We let the Internet go months ago, and I haven't learned how to use my phone as a hot spot yet.

Actually, I've always enjoyed writing in a café. I remember a writing workshop with Natalie Goldberg, and her saying that every writer should head to a café to write at least once a week. There's something about the community that's nourishing. I look around, here at Politics and Prose, and there must be at least a dozen writers here. Others are reading the paper or a book. What I'm not seeing is anyone chit chatting with friends over coffee or tea. The guy across the communal table is munching chips and reading The Post. A woman across the room is studying. People are coming and going. The cashier is counting change. Another replenishes pastries in the case. Smooth jazz plays in the background.

Floods test Vermont's quaint mountain towns in age of climate change

The guy reading The Post leaves the paper open while he carries his trash to the can. The headline looks up at me as if it wants to share its news. He carries the paper to a narrow wooden counter and leaves it for another reader.

I sip hot citrus chamomile tea from a black ceramic mug. It's the only beverage on the menu available to me, and it's good. The fragrance on the air teases me. I won't forget it's there. 

I stop and notice a girl who is taking notes with a stylus on an iPad. I ask her, "Are you taking notes on your iPad?" "Yes," she says, smiling. She speaks with me about how this has been a game changer for her while she's been in college. She asked her parents to get the iPad for her birthday and they did. It synchs to her laptop so she always has the notes. I tell her about the two, long banker's boxes filled with notebooks from college that I still have. It's such an interesting generational difference. But we connect over both liking to write our notes, I with pen and paper, she with stylus and iPad.

The café has emptied since I've been here. Most of the tables still are populated, but the communal tables no longer are crowded. The smells of all the different kinds of foods and drinks mingle. Someone walks by the counter and picks up a thin section of The Post. A woman and her teenage son share a mini, chocolate iced chocolate Bundt cake. The barista calls, "Katherine." I look up. It's reflex.

I hold the warm mug and muse over how isolated I still am. There are things I have not started to do again, like writing in cafés. I started back at the gym only a month ago. I've gone to one movie in the theater since the end of the Covid shutdown and to one concert. The other day, I thought about going to see Asteroid City at a small, community theater in Princeton. Movies theaters still give me the heebie-jeebies. All these little things make up a life and draw us out of our Hobbit-holes.

 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Day of Contradictions

Yesterday.

I give myself a deep sigh as I think about it. It started out well. Ticked things off my to-do list: morning journal, blog post, tasks around the kitchen, stopped at Macy's to pick up a couple of shirts for my son. I'd found them the day before and loved them for him. Snapped a few pictures to see if he loved them too. Laughed with the person who rang me up that we don't pick up things for our sons anymore without sending them a picture first.

Got to the office and made some good headway into that to-do list, and then the day fell apart. To-do-list-wise. Of course, every time this happens, I remember what my mentor in seminary always said, "Your ministry is your interruptions." 

And that's wonderful. I serve to help bring ease, comfort, consolation, and companionship to others. But there's also an institution to run. I'm a CEO and a COO wrapped in a clerical collar. People sometimes forget that pastors also run non-profit corporations. This time of year, for me, it's insurance matters. Our carrier has announced that it will no longer write policies for churches in Pennsylvania. There's not enough profit, apparently. A friend just told me he had the same experience with his homeowners coverage in California. When did insurance companies get to decide not to offer whole classes of insurance to entire states, or regions of the country? 

So, we're reviewing new policy offers and getting our ducks in a row for that, especially after the Covid shut down and the revolving door of people leaving leadership positions, others moving into them, and some remaining vacant, as ministry areas rise and fall based on interest and resourcing. 

Contradictions.

Expecting to do one kind of work and spending my time doing another. Then there was the massage at the chiropractor's office that was anything but relaxing or healing, as construction workers on the floor above set the fire alarm off over and over again with the dust they were raising as they worked carelessly. Surges of cortisol running through my body were incompatible with long, slow massage strokes. Perhaps even mocking.

I took the rest of the late afternoon and evening slowly. Went to the grocery store. Talked to a friend on the phone. Made a different dinner than I'd been planning because it was easier. Turned off my phone while I ate and for the rest of the evening. Went to bed early. Got eight hours of sleep. Got up early today and gently moved into my morning routine. Thought about the day and ways I can be flexible. There's a list for today as well. The insurance must be attended to and other matters set aside, even if something comes up. I'll figure it out. I remember that I am not an everlasting resource and that time works the same way for me as it does for everyone else. I remind myself that I am the only one who can take care of myself and that part of self care is judicious use of "no."   

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

I Could Eat This Way Forever

I was talking with a friend yesterday. 

She was lamenting that she wished she could do something like I'm doing. She can. The thing that people fear is missing foods they love. Truthfully, nothing is off limits. I can have whatever I want. I just don't want some things anymore.

Oh, sure, sometimes I think about the caprese salad a friend made with ripe peaches last summer, or chocolate Haagen Das, or the artisanal chocolates made at the shop next to the nail salon, or a nice glass of organic and biodynamic wine. But I'm not really thinking about pizza or Shake Shack or even bread and cheese.

And I don't feel the emotional hook with any of these foods anymore.

So much of what we connect with the goodness of food is emotional. The way we feel at a celebration or when we get together with friends or when our mom made us a grilled cheese sandwich. Celebration. Connection. Comfort. 

I will confess that over this ten week period, I have felt raw at times. Naked. Vulnerable. As I tell myself my food stories and contend with their meaning, sometimes I feel like there's nowhere to hide from the things I've been trying to mask behind food. 

Like the unbearable grief I felt in the aftermath of my mother's death last summer. I made chicken paprikas to feel close to her. It's a heavy meal, akin to cold weather seasons and not something I ever would have made or eaten in the summer. After my dad's death almost 20 years ago, I'd hunt down a place that makes its own ice cream and serves it on a small sugar cone. My dad used to take me for a ride on summer evenings and we'd stop at High's for ice cream near Glen Echo Park. He'd get either pistachio or butter pecan. I'd get strawberry or peach. 

There is food I connect with every important relationship in my life and with every important event. The thing I love about what I am learning, is freedom. Freedom to choose, and not to be directed by powerful memories, emotions, and biochemical forces that so often choose for us, and so often are driven by unconscious impulses.

It's not really the food choices that drive the desire to eat this way forever, but the freedom.  

 

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Pictured: Shrimp over petite romaine leaves with artichoke hearts and pine nuts. Dressed with Primal Kitchen Caesar dressing