Christ Has Risen: Happy Easter

I don’t know about you, but for me Easter Sunday always brings with it a great and overwhelming sense of joy. Lent and the 40 days of wilderness and darkness are over. Jesus the Christ has conquered death and offered the promise of new and eternal life! Is there any better promise, anything more hopeful?

We attended two very different, but equally meaningful Easter services today.

This morning as we walked to the outdoor sunrise service given by Lutheran Church of the Cross, I thought about my colleagues who look down upon Christianity because it isn’t rational or based in science. Several times I have been made, by my academic peers, to feel as if my beliefs stem from some sort of ignorance or naïveté, or that my willingness to believe in the Christian miracles somehow negates any intelligence I might have, minimizing the worth of my intellectual pursuits, as if my religion or my spirituality disenables me to participate in rational, academic thought. But, I don’t want my faith to be anything but faith. I don’t want the mystery to be sucked out of the Easter miracles by rationality or intellectualism. I want my Jesus to stay firmly in the realm of things I can’t prove, but that I know to be true. I don’t think my willingness to believe in miracles negates my ability to think. Nor does my ability to think negate the childlike whimsy with which I place my faith in Jesus who died, who resurrected, and who will come again. I consciously choose to place my faith in something I cannot prove. I have not been brainwashed, led astray by a band of scallywags, nor forced into believing some mumbo jumbo against my will. My faith stands with the resurrected Christ, and I eagerly anticipate his return.

As we walked to the Nature Area at Minnetrista, I also thought about how beautiful this creation is and is becoming. I looked around at my surroundings and spent time thanking God for the grass, the trees, the birds, the flowers, the insects, and all of those things which were surrounding me. We were laughing, holding hands, and anticipating the service at which we’d celebrate Jesus, his body broken and repaired, when we realized that the gate between the field we were in and the Nature Area where we needed to be was closed. Could we walk around? Maybe. But there was enough space for us to go under the gate, so on our way to Easter sunrise service we rolled under the big, black iron (steel?) gate. We thought the sight must have been hilarious, and we sort of wished we could have filmed it. The experience definitely put us in the right, good, and joyful mood that Easter calls for.

What We Saw When We Sat Down:
Communion and Fire Pit

My own Easter blessing.
I love it when the sun rises while the moon is still up.

The Message

The message at the sunrise service focused on Mark 16 and the role of the women. Later I mentioned to Becky that the three times we’ve been to Easter services where women were officiants, they’ve preached from this passage. There is something so empowering about this bit of Mark’s gospel: the women were the first to know the good news. And there is something status quo about the same passage: they didn’t say anything because they were terrified. Whenever I have read or considered this section of scripture, I have always entertained all the possible reasons the women might be terrified. Were they worried that no one would believe them? Did they think people would think they had done something with the body? Were they afraid because the news they carried would turn an entire religious and cultural system on its head? Were they like so many other throughout history who have been afraid to speak? Were they afraid they’d be accused of blasphemy? Were they afraid at the greatness and glory of the news they’d just heard? Why were they so afraid they didn’t tell anyone? Of course, my really cynical side wonders if they did tell everyone, but then their story was stolen by men who wanted the glory of proclaiming the good news. I would suppose it’s a combination of all of these things, but it’s a beautiful thing that at least Mark’s gospel gives women the first knowledge of this new paradigm, even though they were too terrified to share it. This passage is one of several reasons that Mark and Luke are my favorite gospels, giving the role that women played in Jesus’ ministry fair exposure. I enjoyed being invited to think through these ideas again this morning.

Sculpture at Minnetrista On the Way Home From Sunrise

The Courtyard at Minnetrista on the Way Home From Sunrise

When the sunrise service was over, we went home and had a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs with spinach and bleu cheese and bacon. At 10:30, we attended the church we’ve been attending for about a year and a half or so, Commonway Church. The service was in the usual style, but there were several baptisms and we had communion for the first time that I can think of since last Easter. Matt’s sermon focused on the history of resurrection theology as found in the Jewish scriptures, and he encouraged us to remember that we have a resurrection coming. He reminded us that Jesus shocked the disciples by proclaiming to be the embodiment of the resurrection, essentially the embodiment of their future. Jesus was saying, “Your hope of the coming age is in me,” reminding us that Jesus Kingdom is the already, but not yet Kingdom of God. As a bonus, we sang one of my favorite songs: “Lay ‘Em Down” by Need to Breathe.

It is won. It is done.

Our Easter Gift from Commonway's Band, A Lobby Concert

Each of these sermons spoke to me on a different level. Obviously, the first sermon spoke to me as a woman, reminding me of the critical role of women in the Kingdom of God. The second reminded me of the strong Jewish theology that Paul used to explain the work that Jesus was and is doing here on this earth.

Lent Day 20: School’s Back in Session

I know what it feels like to be a balloon and to have the helium sucked out of you, because that’s what going back to work did to me today, only with joy instead of helium. As of Sunday, I felt nearly completely joyful. I felt as if I could conquer the world. I could literally feel myself beginning to be positive about many things. And then I went back to school today, and everything was the same as it always is, and there was too much to bear.

My day began with the computer cart I had reserved not being plugged in for break, so all the computers were dead. I resorted to my backup plan, because I always have one of those when I am supposed to use technology in a lesson. Everything turned out fine, but I was, for some reason, still annoyed.

My day continued with one of my students pretty much straight-up lying to another teacher about whether or not I make them do citations for my class. Luckily it was my lunch, so she had me come over to her room to put the citation information up on the board for the students. He tried to weasel his way out of it by playing it off in his clowning sort of way. It didn’t work.

My day continued to continue with one of the counselors telling me that some of the students think I am mean this year, not at all how I was last year. My response was to ask her if the students realized that their behavior was part of the reason their teachers can be grumpy. Basically, I played it off on them, like a jack ass.

Finally, I finished my day on a positive note playing racquetball with Celeste, which is always a great time. When we play, it doesn’t matter so much who wins or loses, but we talk, we do the dozens, and we let our frustration. And somehow, though she likely doesn’t know it, I always learn from Celeste. I always leave a little more calm, with a bit better perspective.

While I was making fish stir fry for dinner, I stopped…

and thought about how I have been with my students this year, and how I have let my anger creep into everything I do.I have been shorter with them, and I could make excuses, but there really is no excuse. I thought about how I have short-changed not only my students, but also my friends, my colleagues, and my family because of my bitterness with God, and my general anger, though I still cannot pinpoint the source of the anger that overtook me.

I thought about how my first response was to blame my students, my 12 to 16 year old (well, a couple of repeat offenders who are 17) students for my shitty behavior. They are children, young adults, and my behavior, as a grown woman, should not be dictated by their level of participation, their willingness to think that English is the best subject ever. (It is, though.) My behavior should come out of, or, to use a really bad creative writing phrase, it should flow from my own moral and ethical belief system, which is not to take my anger out on those around me.

I’m not above being all “Hallelujah, Jesus Freakish” when I say that since I’ve reevaluated my Christianity (and added in some Buddhist thought, too) I am ashamed of some of the ways I’ve behaved while I was out there in the wilderness (yet again, damn I wish I’d learn one time). The biggest shame I face is the fact that I have treated people in a way that nowhere near resembles Christ’s love, but it, instead, resembles the “GOTCHA” mentality that is so prevalent in our culture, where people just sit in wait for others to screw something up, so they can call each other out on it. There has been no cheek turning for me, unless it has been me turning my cheek and hiding my mouth behind my hand, so people can’t hear what I am saying about them. Seriously, it’s been bad. I needed that reality check today.

So, today, I am asking you all for a little bit of accountability. I want to be filled with God’s grace, sharing it with all those around me, especially my students. And I want to follow that old saying from Eleanor Roosevelt: “Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.” I want the words of my mouth, and the actions of my body to glorify God. I no longer want to conform to the patterns of this world, but I want to be transformed by the renewing of my mind. I want to be the teacher my students remember for being loving and gracious, and if I’m lucky, they’ll remember some of the language arts I teach them, too.

Peace.

 

Lent Day 6: Joy and Confession

I am sure you are thinking, What a strange juxtaposition for a title! Joy and confession? How do those two go together? I am not entirely sure theydogo together completely, but I can tell you that I am beginning to experience pure joy again. I find myself laughing with reckless abandon more, and I find myself getting incredibly grumpy and sad less. And it hasn’t simply been the past six days while praying three times a day, following the liturgical hours; this joy has been slowly growing—like the bright green moss on the hillside by the river—since the new year started. I posted the other day, maybe yesterday, how I feel like I am finally taking control over my moods, rather than them controlling me, but just today, I felt complete joy. I actually threw my head back and laughed my big belly laugh. And I wasn’t embarrassed by it. Which, in turn, gave me more joy. I am no longer the shadow person I have been.

Part of my joy comes from observing Lent and knowing that in a few short weeks, we’ll be celebrating the resurrection of Jesus. But another good portion of my joy comes from suggestions picked up from Pema Chodron’s The Wisdom of No Escape and the Path of Lovingkindness. InWisdom, Chodron advocates making friends with those parts of us that cause us anger, aggression, or aversion, because those attributes that irritate us about others are the same that irritate us about ourselves. Through the act of making friends with those attributes, and no longer trying to rid ourselves of those attributes, we learn to give kindness to others. Our desire to rid ourselves of those qualities results in an aggression toward those qualities when we see them in others. We become unkind to both others and ourselves. Because Chodron teaches how to be kind, I feel like I can begin to honestly look at myself and decipher what it is that I don’t like about myself, recognize that those features are simply part of who I am, make peace with that, and eventually stop trying to remove those attributes from myself and from others, thereby gaining a kindness and a sense of peace in regards to myself and others.

(Side note: My next spiritual read is Thich Nhat Hahn’s Living Buddha, Living Christ.)

How can Inotexperience joy when I have made friends with my whole self, with all of my attributes?

This is where confession comes in. First, I must closely self-examine to figure out what those attributes are that I don’t like about myself. Once I decipher that, I must confess those qualities to myself, to others, to God even. Through this confession, I name my weaknesses or those things which cause me pain. I claim them out loud. I call them what they are. Then I make friends with them, not “comfortable, hey let’s go have some pizza and beers friends,” but I acknowledge that those qualities are a part of who I am, and I sit with them. Get to know them. Make friends, like “sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but I am not trying to kick you out” friends. My weaknesses and I learn to coexist after I confess them. And through our coexistence they eventually cease to be a cause for anger or malice or injury. They just are.

I confess that there are a whole bucket of attributes of my personality of my life that irritate me, that I need to make friends with. And I hope that once I make friends with those facets, they will just sit at the other end of that couch and be quiet. That’s my biggest flaw: I don’t know when to be quiet. Maybe I need to take a silent retreat. Every day. One of the things I appreciate about this Buddhist idea of embracing our own flaws is that I don’t end up with a bucket of shame at what I’ve confessed about myself. I end up, instead, with a changed heart. Too many times, Christians miss this bit and would rather shame someone than encourage their wholeness. That, in and of itself, is a shame.

This whole discussion brings me around to what prompted these thoughts. Part of the evening prayer, which I have been praying for six days without recognizing this part, says, “You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices, O Son of God, O Giver of Life, your glory fills the whole world.” I think this part jumped out at me tonight, because for the first time in a long time, my heart feels light and joyful. I’m going to cling to that joy.

Peace.

Lent Day 3: Date Night

Today I kept up with the common prayers, and I find that it settles my otherwise erratic personality. Maybe between the niacin, vitamin C, paleo diet, and following the daily liturgy, I can make a way to keep myself on track emotionally. If you read this blog at all, you know that’s something I struggle with, and it’s finally something I feel like I am getting a strong hold on, or control over, rather than it controlling me. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to get past writing about it.

I also had the opportunity today to go on a date with my significant other. We went to Indianapolis to pick up a friend of ours, so we decided to make a special time of it. First we went to Rock Bottom Brewery and had a couple of beers, then we walked through Circle Center Mall for a bit, really just using it to walk to and from our car without being lambasted by the ridiculous Indiana spring-winter wind. Finally, we picked Elizabeth up at the train station, and then went to Peppy Grill in Fountain Square.

The workers at Peppy are amazing. Talk about your sassy, ornery, short order cooking and serving staff. I never leave disappointed, even when I realize that my corned beef hash comes directly from a Hormel can (not so paleo/primal) and gets heated up on the grill. I think I may leave that dish for Brunchies and just return to my ham and eggs at Peppy. But it was still good, of course, and greasy spoon!

Beautiful Sky on Binford in Indy

Looking South on Meridian and Vermont: Monument Circle

South Side of the Circle: Turning onto Meridian

After A Rock Bottom White Ale: A Little Out of Focus

1004 Virginia Avenue: Peppy Grill

Good Thing We Had Three People

Corned Beef Hash for My Love and Me

Today was a nothing’s profound, but everything’s lovely, kind of day. Peace.

Ash Wednesday 2012

For Lent this year, I am going to try to post something here each day. Maybe I will post a blessing that I have experienced for the day, maybe it will be a bit of Scripture I read that day, or maybe it will simply be an anecdote or story. No matter what, though, my goal is to post for 46 days straight, from now until Easter.

Today, I just want to acknowledge that it’s Ash Wednesday, and I missed going to a service. Last year, I was in Florida and went to Sebring’s nice Methodist Church. This year, I was going to go this morning to St. Mary’s, but I wasn’t sure if a sort of Protestant, kind of Buddhist woman could attend a Catholic Ash Wednesday service. I guess it’s only the Eucharist that they’re insular about, and other ceremonies are not so important as that. It’s okay, Catholic folks, I believe in transubstantiation too.

As I was walking from my free parking space by St. Mary’s into school this morning, I started thinking about Lent, because if there is one traditional thing I hold onto about Christianity, it’s the Church calendar. I love the way the seasons ebb and flow, and I love that it marks up the year into manageable pieces. The Christian calendar is like the seasonal calendar, reminding me about who I am and who God is. For example, Lent for me is a time of penance and so is winter. Advent is a time of anticipation and rebirth, so is spring. You see, the same, but different.

But I digress, as I was walking into school this morning, I thought about whether or not I’d do anything for Lent this year. By “do anything,” I mean give up something, or the new version of that, which is to add something, and I decided that I’d try to write here every day, and I’d start celebrating the liturgy through Common Prayer. My friend Sarah had heard Shane Claiborne speak and purchased the book, and I’d heard about it, but hadn’t purchased it, so I thought I’d give it a try. I ordered it, but it wasn’t supposed to be delivered until the 23-28 of February. So, as I walked this morning, I thought to myself, well, when that book gets here, I’ll get started with my spiritual practice for Lent. I figured it would be here when I got back from Chicago next weekend, so I’d be a bit behind. Sure enough, Common Prayer was delivered in today’s mail.

Tonight I’m reading the introduction. Peace.

Winter Trail Run. Frittata. Swimming and Grading.

Winter Trail Quarter Marathon

Last night I ran my first race of the year, the Planet Adventure Trail Quarter Marathon. It was 4.55 dark miles of pure bliss and 2 miles of hell, but the whole 6.55 miles was an amazing experience I’d sign up for again and again. After the first two miles, one of which snaked along an icy narrow trail on the edge of the Eagle Creek Reservoir—and I mean right on the edge, one misstep and you’re in the drink, down an eight or ten foot drop—I got into my groove and thought to myself, This isn’t so bad. I will kick this race’s behind.

Little did I know that mile three would be one of the most spiritually beautiful, yet one of the most physically grueling miles I’d ever run. I had heard some other runners talking before the race about running across a land bridge between the two lakes and was pretty excited about that prospect. However, I had no idea that the land bridge would be covered in railroad rocks, the big jagged pieces of limestone that had nothing better in mind than to macerate the bottoms of my feet with their pointy little edges. My VFFs, though they performed amazingly well throughout the rest of the trail, were no match for those tiny torture devices. In short, I walked the almost mile across the reservoir to keep from making hamburger of the bottoms of my feet, and they still bruised a bit. While I was walking—and stubbornly sometimes jogging—along the land bridge, I turned off my headlamp and relished the pitch blackness. It doesn’t get pitch black by my house, and I can’t see the stars for all the streetlamps. So I was in awe when I discovered the heavens were arrayed in their full glory, and I could see Orion and the Big Dipper, along with all of their individual stars. I walked along worshiping, meditating, and feeling blessed.

I can’t capture in words how majestic it was to be moving along between two bodies of water, under the beautiful night sky, with my breath steaming out in rhythmic puffs, and my body reveling in the physicality of the experience. Just when I thought I couldn’t feel more joyful, I looked up around the shore, and I realized I could see the headlamps of everyone who was running the race bobbing along the trail circumnavigating the water. At that moment, I gained a better understanding of what humanity is, and I was overwhelmed by the feeling. I got a lump in my throat that could only be an Emersonian revelation that we are all one. Though we are many individual people, we are one humanity, and every one of our hearts vibrates to the same iron string. I tried hard not to let the water come into my eyes, because I was afraid it would freeze. But I couldn’t help it. Surely that must be what life is all about. Beauty, grace, joy, and camaraderie.

Once the land bridge ended, we were off and running on a wide road, which eventually headed into a double-track trail for most of the rest of the race. I much prefer double- or triple-track trails to single-track. The single-track trails make me very self-conscious about being a slow runner, and I feel like I have to move over for the faster runners to get by. I swear my times would be better if I could just get over moving over and let the speed demons figure out how to get around me. I don’t suppose that’d make anyone happy though. And since I am not competitive, running for fun than times, I will probably continue to move over so they can get by. Some even say thank you.

Everything was moving along fine until mile six, which was just pure hell. I would say a good half to three-quarters of mile six was just mud. A thick, goopey, cold, muddy hell. There was nothing majestic about mile six. Although I am sure there is some good theological metaphor buried there beneath the dark, wet dirt.  In spots, the mud was up past my ankles, and we just had to make do. My VFFs were two to three times their normal size and weight, and I am not sure if my favorite (a.k.a LUCKY) socks will ever be the same color they once were. So much for white and rainbow. Running this mile reminded me of running the Mudathlon, only the weather was slightly, okay drastically, colder and more oppressive. I thought at one point when I stepped in a puddle up to mid-calf that my toes on my left foot were just going to freeze off, but I kept running and they eventually warmed up.

Luckily I didn’t fall at all. I blame my ability to stay upright on all the recent plank work I’ve been doing. I saw a guy slip on the ice on the narrow, treacherous path and  nearly slide into the reservoir, save for grabbing onto the tree that happened to be next to him. My friend Teresa—who had planned to run the half marathon, but stopped after the first ridiculous lap—fell three times. She was covered in mud, wet, cold, and miserable enough to stop. We both agreed this race was one of the most difficult we’d ever done. Even though it was ridiculous, it was amazing, and I’ll likely do it again next year.

My Finisher's Medal: Made From a Fallen Tree at Eagle Creek

Sunday Morning Frittata

This morning, because I was starving from my workout last night, I decided to try a new recipe. I won’t try it again in the same pan I used today, because it stuck like glue, so if you try this one, make sure to use a very nonstick pan. Aside from sticking, it was pretty tasty. I’ll probably add some onions and some garlic next time, too.

10 eggs
a bunch of spinach
a bunch of mushrooms
6 slices of bacon
a splash of heavy cream
a bit of butter if necessary
salt and pepper to taste

Fry the bacon to your likeness. Remove from pan and crunch it up. If you need a little extra grease, add some butter and then saute the mushrooms. While they are doing their thing, whisk together the eggs, salt and pepper, and the splash of cream. When your mushrooms are the way you like them, add in the spinach and bacon, then pour the eggs in on top of them. Cook at medium-low, or low, heat until the eggs are done all the way through. I put the lid on for part of the time, because I think it makes the eggs fluffier.

Deliciously Eggy

Swimming and Grading

Later today, I am going to swimming at Ball Pool where I finally have a locker, so I don’t have to lug all of my stuff back and forth with me every day. I need to work out my sore muscles, so I can sleep better tonight. (And I probably won’t drink three or four cups of caffeinated coffee right before trying to go to bed, like I did last night. Dumb.) I find that swimming, especially in the warm waters of Ball Pool, really helps my mood, my blood pressure, and my fatigued, old body. I am hoping that today it will loosen up my back, which is a little tense from running up and down those slick and muddy/icy hills. I know it will relax my mind and prepare me to grade.

After swimming, I am going to Starbucks for the great grade-a-thon. My high schoolers have turned in two reflections and a couple of other assignments, so I need to get them graded and returned to them. Likewise, I am sure my 8th graders would love to have their book reviews back. They were supposed to be their last grade for first semester, which ended two weeks ago, but they are going to be their first grade for this semester instead. They are gracious. They don’t mind my getting a little behind. Besides, they’re too busy reading Anthem to care about their old papers.

Three Things Which Bring Me Joy and One Which Does Not

Paleo Eating

Grilled Grass-fed Ribeye and Broccoli

I started eating Paleo/Primal in November, just before the holidays. Dumb move, I know. I stopped eating this way from Christmas through New Year’s Day and then hopped right back on it. Here are few things I know from the nearly three months I’ve been eating no grains or soy, no sugar, no manufactured food, and very little dairy:

1. I have lots of energy to exercise. I am exercising in several different ways pretty much every day of the week. And, I get sore, which is to be expected when exercising, but I don’t drag through my day like I did when I was exercising this much and eating a vegan diet. And, the soreness goes away and doesn’t inhibit my workout.
2. I get lots of sleep. When I am finished with my day, I go to bed. There isn’t any dragging myself through my day, only to end up lying in bed tossing and turning until I finally fall asleep. I go to bed. I go to sleep. I sleep through the night. And, I wake up, rested, without using an alarm clock around 5 or so, which doesn’t mean I get up then, choosing instead to lounge around in the bed until 6ish.
3. I can be much more inventive with my cooking. This week’s menu includes fish stir fry, a dish I never would’ve even considered before trying the paleo lifestyle (even when I ate meat before, I wouldn’t have considered it). We will also be eating a beef stroganoff served over spaghetti squash. I find myself wanting to experiment with food in ways I didn’t before, not that I was a bad vegan chef, because I wasn’t, but this is better!
4. I don’t spend a good portion of every day in the bathroom. Not to be gross, but when I was vegan I pooped at least three times every day. Now I go once, and I happen to believe it’s because my body is using what I am feeding it rather than simply passing it on through.
5. I am not bloated or gassy. For the last three years, while I’ve been vegetarian or vegan, I have had incredible gas. It’s been pretty disgusting at times. Now, I am not saying that I don’t have some gas, but it’s not ridiculous and it smells less horrible. I don’t belch loudly, for a long time, after every single meal. I also don’t eat to the point where I am so full and bloated that I feel like complete crap, because I am paying more attention to the full feeling I get when I eat meat. I know when to stop.
6. I am losing weight—s-l-o-w-l-y—but I feel amazing. My original hope was that the weight would just come peeling off of me, like it does for some people who go low-carb, paleo, or whatever, but then I realized that I want to still be able to do long races and swim miles in the mornings, so I need to have some potatoes or yams in my diet. I am consistently losing two pounds a week, so I think that’s fair. In a year, that’s 100 pounds. Ha! I wish.
7. My mental state is level and even somewhat joyful. I’ve blogged before about using niacin and Vitamin C to even out my moods. It works. I don’t have the pendulumesque, out of control mood swings I’ve had all my life when I take a little of those vitamins. I don’t even have to take large doses to help me out, just a bit works fine. However, since I’ve been eating paleo, I feel so much better in my mind (mental clarity, memory, and mood) that I am going to experiment with leaving even those vitamin supplements behind. I am going to ween myself of of all additives, except my multivitamin. Right now I have pretty expensive pee.

Barefoot Running

Soft Little Barefoot Running Feet

I have been sneaking in some barefoot running at Ball Gym. I feel rebellious, like I said in my last post, but more importantly my feet are getting so much stronger and my calves are raging! I ran for about an hour the other day, and while my calves—well, really my whole leg musculature—got sore, my feet felt great. I think there’s something to this cavewoman lifestyle I’ve submitted myself to! I just feel so primal and free when I run with no shoes, like there is nothing I can’t do. (I know. Double negative. Shut up.) I feel like I could just keep running and running and never stop, but I know that’s not true, no matter how much joy running brings me.

Swimming

This is actually a high school conference meet, but I swim here sometimes.

I’ve come home. To my first love. I’ve been swimming (if you can call it that) since I was about a month old in the big-ass bath tub at our original little hovel in the big HC. Sometimes I think I can remember what that first feeling of weightlessness felt like, but I know it’s impossible. I love swimming because it’s one sport where being a fat girl doesn’t matter, and, in fact, probably works to my advantage.

At any rate, swimming soothes me, stimulates me, and feeds my mind like no other sport. Maybe because I have been doing it for so long, I don’t have to think at all about it. When I run, I still have to think about my form; though I have to think less about it when I run barefoot. When I swim, the strokes come naturally, gracefully. I’ve been swimming three times a week for the past two weeks, and I feel full. At peace. Calm. Like I can do anything in the water. Swimming is grace. Swimming is joy.

Beer

At Savage's Ale House in Muncie, IN

You aren’t really supposed to drink any alcohol when you go paleo/primal, but I really love beer. Recently, I haven’t been able to drink beer much because of my allergies. I think I am really allergic to wheat, because I feel 100% better and my allergies have all but gone by the wayside since I stopped eating wheat. In case you missed it the first time I said it, I really love beer. So I occasionally have a beer. Like once a week.

Last night was “Festive Friday.” A bunch of colleagues and I go out and have a couple of beers to celebrate the end of the week and look for a better week to come, which is really a way of celebrating life if you ask me. I had a Bell’s Porter, one of my top ten all time beers, and my face swelled up like a little bright red, hot to the touch, strawberry. I had one beer, three glasses of water, a double bacon burger, and some fries, and my face swelled up with hives. It was ridiculous. I still love beer. There is no joy in being allergic to beer.

Here are my top ten, in no particular order because I just can’t decide, but the top five are the top five, in order:

1. Hacker-Pschorr Dark, Hacker-Pschorr Brewery
2. Bad Elmer’s Porter, Upland Brewery
3. Riggwelter, Black Sheep Brewery
4. Bell’s Porter, Bell’s Brewery
5. Taddy Porter, Samuel Smith Brewery
6. Dogfish Head 90-minute IPA, Dogfishhead Brewery
7. Edmund Fitzgerald Porter, Great Lakes Brewery
8. St. Peter’s English Ale, St. Peter’s Brewery
9. La Fin Du Monde, Unibroue
10. Levitation Ale, Stone Brewery

Sad day that I can’t drink one of each…