Category: life (Page 7 of 10)

Homeostasis

I read on some crunchy, loosely tied to science, blog that our bodies function in a way that craves the things which continue us on our current state. (Defense: I googled homeostasis and the definition that came up validated these claims. Those crunchy, loosely-tied-to-science people are on to something.)

For example, if you’ve indulged in a BK Chicken Sandwich for dinner a few nights in a row, then whatever the greasy pretend-chicken does to our internal organs, our bodies respond with, “okay, to get more of this, I need more greasy pretend-chicken.” (Full disclosure: the BK Chicken Sandwich was my go-to indulgence when I was pregnant. When everything sounded yucky, the BKCS made my mouth water. It’s my favorite grossest thing ever.)

This rule would help explain the 2-beer rule. Someone once told me that his options were either to stop at 2 beers or give in to the fact that he would be drinking all night. Self-control after 2 beers diminished, and I contribute this to the above mentioned Homeostasis Rule. Your drunken body continues to crave more of what has made it drunken.

Looking at the world through this lens explains my weird sister when she says “I crave a salad” because she’s uncontrollably healthy. Her body is functioning in a state that craves things like nutrients from fresh, raw vegetables. Also, those of us who crave bread-y carbs probably have the least amount of self control after eating one or two rolls.

In Rob & Kristen Bell’s new book, The ZimZum of Love, they make the point that the energy between two married people (or any people, really) operates in much the same fashion. If love and goodwill is happening, the relationship continues to grow in love and goodwill. If frustration, anxiety and contempt is circulating, than it breeds that downward spiral.

Perhaps our bodies, minds and spirits (and even organizations) operate much in the same way: we crave more of our current state, even when we don’t actually want our current state to continue.

<<Insert comment about over-tired toddlers that can’t get to sleep 2 hours after bedtime.>>

Image by m. a. r. c. used with permission via CC.

Image by m. a. r. c. used with permission via CC.

To make a grand, sweeping generalization, most people want change or want to change. We want something different. We want to lose 10 pounds, be a better friend, have a closer connection with our spouse, be more present with our children and have more time for causes that hold significant meaning in our lives. We want these things. Wanting change is the problem for only a small population of people. (Side note: in my opinion, if we granted those with addictions this kind of perspective, we would be practicing a bit more of Jesus’ idea of grace, attributing the problem less to character and more to our human nature.)

The problem isn’t wanting change. The challenge comes in when we have to start doing the things that would lead to change. We have to get out a skillet and cook instead of another BK Chicken Sandwich. We have to leave the bar instead of getting a 3rd beer. We have to compliment our partner on something we truly value about him, instead of nagging them about the trash he left on the counter. Some of these things are very hard to do in practice.

Our nature craves consistency even when our hearts crave change.

Perhaps acknowledging this homeostasis vortex will give us the courage to start. And if the theory is correct, our victories will lead to greater victories later on. Not without a few stumbles and failures, we should note. But getting out of our Homeostasis craving cyclone is a change in trajectory, built upon small victories over time.

Creating Space

The beginning of the year always comes chock full of wanting more of something. More weight loss. More gym time. More “living life to the fullest.” More shower heads (which, incidentally, made yesterday 400% more enjoyable. As a matter of fact, I did take two showers). Resolutions and changes exist to bring more of something desirable into our lives. I love this.

However, it has dawned on me – and perhaps many of you, I could just be late to the game here – that more is not always better. In fact, more cannot always exist. Taking stock of the American Life, I’m not sure we have room for more.

Who would've known I could find a picture of an apple tree by a sweet corn field? What serendipity. Photo by Matt Callow via CC.

Who would’ve known I could find a picture of an apple tree by a sweet corn field? What serendipity. Photo by Matt Callow via CC.

Perhaps, instead, we need to refocus our work not on gaining more, but on creating space for the right and the good. We cannot have our current inventory and add more of something. You cannot grow an apple on top of a field of sweet corn. If you want an apple, you must make space to grow an apple tree. 

In yoga, much of the work of the mat is about creating space. Once, we were in a reverse triangle my teacher said the phrase, “as we  create some space in the sidebody” and I nearly fell over. Astounding! This stretch, this leaning in, opened up an area of my body so that blood and oxygen and all the necessary, life-giving elements could flow to those parts and organs and often-ignored places of my body. In ancient thought, blood was the “life source” and as a carrier of oxygen we can understand why. When I stretch and bend, I’m creating space for my body to have new life infused into it.

I got hung up on the Beatitudes this morning, those crazy sayings of Jesus about when you have all the nothings, you have everything. Grief, poverty, weakness… these seem to be game-changers in experiencing the Kingdom of God. He says that those who have lost what is dear to them or is necessary for life, has more of God.

In our loss, in our poverty, in our desire for something else, we create space for God to “move into the neighborhood.” But for God to move into the house, someone else has to move out. Even if God were to decide to build a new house at the end of the block, we lose that empty green field our children used to play in. We must decide what we want closest to us.

As we each endeavor this first full week of the new year, the re-entry into life, let us find the places and things that can move out, to create space for that which we really thirst after. If we want something new to grow in our midst, pick a patch of land and grab a plow. What was formerly there must first become barren earth if we want to plant a seed and watch it grow.

Learning our words

Mr. M entered that frustrating stage of toddlerhood where the language input is a vast playland, but the verbal output is excruciatingly minimal. “Ungh” and “eeeeehhhhhh!” apparently have two separate meanings but those meanings can evolve based on circumstance. Understanding early toddler language is worse than learning English as a second language. Using sign language as a bridge is helpful, but overall I feel as if I should be able to list “translator” on my resume following the job of raising non-verbal humans.


A while back, one of the children came home complaining that a boy at school had been kicking during meeting time. We talked about the appropriate course of action – asking politely to stop, getting the teacher to help. In this case, both of those avenues had been pursued. “Why would he hurt us?” they asked.

Well, I said, sometimes kids need something and they don’t know how to ask. Sometimes they don’t even know what they need, they just feel like someone needs to give them something, so they use whatever is available. Sometimes that means people hit or use unkind words, or don’t use words at all.


 

I wish these were isolated incidents. Yet life seems to be about learning our needs and how to express them in a way that actually fulfills them. How often do I crave connection and try to find it in the bag of Peanut M&Ms? Or seek approval through making loud and inconsiderate comments? What I’m asking for is love, but I never use those words.

What if we began to see all of the ways in which people simply don’t use the proper words? The rude person behind us in the checkout line. The irate driver in the lane behind us. The explosive father. The overly-involved mother of the playgroup. The disengaged husband. The drunk neighbor.*

We’re all seeking something and often it takes a lifetime to figure out both what it is and how to ask it of others. Our frustration grows as they don’t respond appropriately, giving us more milk instead of green beans, but we only have the sign for “more” and “more” of what remains a mystery.

Back in the day, my partner-in-crime, Kristy, would reach a point of stress and frustration and turn to me and say, “what I need for you to do for me is…” and she laid out exactly what was expected of me. Sometimes it was “5 minutes of quiet” or “carry this box to the other room.” Imagine if we all utilized this skill? Mommy, what I need for you to do for me is give me a hug. Dear, what I need for you to do for me is keep the kids for 2 hours so I can remember my personhood outside of their existence. Church friend, what I need for you to do for me is express you’ve forgiven me in a way that I can move on without always feeling I “owe” you.

Let us learn our words.  Let us be patient with those who don’t know them yet. And let us teach others how to use them.

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