Alana's Dharma Blog

Each morning, I get-up and take my asthma medication, a quick puff, a rinse of the mouth and I am good to go. Fit as a fiddle. Strong as an Ox. Healthy as a horse…

My fit, healthy self, went to fill-out some insurance paperwork, and as I read their definitions of “excellent health”, I saw I didn’t qualify. With asthma, a chronic condition, the best I can be, according to the insurance company, is in “good health.”

But wait wait wait a second there…I am a woman who takes care of my body. I work-out, I diet, I take my vitamins and drink my water and get a check-up at least once a year. I am young, vibrant, active. In my mind, I am in “excellent health.” How could you, insurance company, who doesn’t even know me, say otherwise? Wait wait wait, why am I, Alana, so damn upset about this?

The thing is, this body is my ultimate tool to prove who I am. Because it is always with me, its what I focus on the most. I bathe it, I dress it, I pierce and decorate it. Choices as seemingly small as not shaving my legs, or letting my feet get calloused are choices that prove WHO I AM (an independent hairy woman not confined by male-centric beauty trends, or a woman tough enough to wear no shoes even on rocky ground). I CONTROL MY BODY, I need to be in control of my body, BECAUSE BEING IN CONTROL OF MY BODY MEANS I AM IN CONTROL OF MY LIFE.

But as much as I love to play make believe, to dress-up this body and peacock it around, the truth is I am not in ‘excellent health’. I have asthma, without medication I can’t even control my breathing. I have had stomach problems since I was a kid and there I times I can’t control the need to run to the bathroom. I get kidney stones and the pain is so severe I can’t control the shaking and crying. I have a hip injury, terrible teeth, I wear glasses, have a vitamin D deficiency, eczema…

My minds uses the fact that my body is ‘always there’, changes ever so slowly from one day to the next, to convince myself that the body is the answer to my preservation dilemma; with proper care and feeding I can preserve it and it can in turn preserve myself. But for all my effort, this body keeps breaking down. If I can’t even control this sack of skin, how can it prove I am an ‘in control kinda gal’?

The next two blogs, which will close-out the Suffering and Self –Yummy period of my practice, are a recap of the homework Mae Yo gave me to look at my own experiences to see how I use stuff to feed and sustain the self. Part 1 will be evidence gathered from my belongings. Part 2 will address my body directly. 

Fishing through my wardrobe I come across an outfit I love: tall black boots and a long jacket. Even just thinking of putting those two things on and I feel like a sexy badass. But really, in the dim light of a packed Victorian closet, the boots are just boots, the jacket just a jacket. So what exactly is going on here? Is it like Clark Kent in a phonebooth, throw-on a shiny, skin tight, costume and I am transformed into a super hero? Where did this idea even come from? 

I remember my first pair of tall black boots. I bought them late in life, already in my 30s. I found them at a goodwill and as soon as I zipped them-up, I felt transformed. Sharper, sexier, bolder, stronger… I honestly don’t know where any of this came from, but since that fateful day, a tall black boot is a wardrobe staple. 

The jacket, I have a bit more memory of. I had a friend in university, Amber, who always wore a long jacket/sweater. It was her signature look and damn was she sexy: a strong, take charge, take no shit personality I frankly always wished I had. Me, I’m a bit timid, I shy away from confrontation, the best I could do was to make friends with someone so bold. That, and buy a long jacket.  

But, do the clothes really make the woman? Back when I was in elementary school there was a brand of pants, Z. Cavaricci, that was all the rage. I was desperately unpopular at that age and even more desperate to become popular. Before the new school year started I got it in my head that it was a fashion problem. I convinced my mom to take me to the store and I bought a rainbow of Cavariccis, armed to make myself popular in the new year. But on the first day of school, I arrived in my new pants and I was greeted by taunts and bullying. Each day I wore a new color Cavaricci, but not one pair –not even the pink ones—did anything to get the other kids to like me. 

I started looking around my house and my eyes fell on my dining room table, a 6 foot long mid century piece by the famous designer Finn Juhl, a gift from an old friend. Sitting at the table always makes me feel so special, so loved. It’s a unique, museum quality piece that affirms my awesome design sense and the fact that my awesome friend gave it to me…well what better evidence is there of my general awesomeness. And wrapped-up in that table are the memories of so many gatherings, so many dinner parties, so many occasions to affirm that I can surround myself with people who love and adore me.  

Each thing in the house really seems to serve 2 purposes: One is the actual use; clothes to cover my body, chairs to sit in, books to read. But these objects, in my mind provide something else, they prove me; clothes to make me badass, furniture to make me fashionable and loved, books to make me seem smart. But, even my own experiences show the objects fail, they don’t do what I want them to do, they don’t make me who I want to be, after all, a closet full of Cavaricci never even made me 1 friend… 

Each object took effort to acquire, to care for, to preserve. I try to make the objects, like my green purse, permanent. But they break and fade or like a Cavaricci go way way way out of fashion. I try to use those same objects to make me permanent, to make me what I want to be, but even when I’m wearing those tall boots and a long jacket, I still find myself shying away from a confrontation. Alas, Alana the badass is in my mind only, she isn’t born with a quick wardrobe change.

I shared my reflections on the Green Purse with Mae Yo and she offered a few thoughts I will share here: 

Identity comes from what we are familiar with, we reiterate it, we become used to it and then, in our minds it becomes us and ours. We are repulsed by things we don’t like and attached to stuff we do.  

It all starts with me and the bag, but compliments from others, Eric’s comment that the bag reminds him of me, build my sense of specialness that is confirmed by the bag. There are 3 types of self/ego: 1) inflated 2) middle 3) small hearted. When we get a compliment it inflates our ego while with no comment we stay in a state of middle or little heart. This is how we confirm our sense of self. Like the body needs food, the sense of self is fed by self belongings –we use object in this world to feed and sustain our self. 

When we want to preserve something (like a bag) why do we do it? Like a preserved food, a pickle, we want to delay time, we want to sustain our stuff and self as long as possible.  

My home work was to go home and see if my own experience confirms this, to see if I can prove the tendency to use self belonging to feed self, the tendency to preserve to sustain self, are true.  

I asked Mae Yo a final question: What am I missing? Her reply: “ You haven’t committed that this path is the only way. You would still give another method a chance, to keep your options open. Its like you haven’t really broken up with an Ex yet, so ask yourself why not? When you are convinced, you will be able to walk the path alone. Its like a swimmer, looking at the competitor in another lane makes you lose time.”