Teacher, watch. Sit still.
Settle them. They’re leaves swept up
by breezes, until

their feet, tulips bent
toward last light, lay flat, toes
uncurled–and heads, sent

like stones in a lake,
let surface ripples gather
to stillness. They’ll make

no noise, just engage
in the rise and fall of breath.
The V’s where ribs uncage

form flocks of geese
etching the gray, dusky sky–
homeward bound, released.

Mary Ann O’Gorman lives in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, where she teaches English and yoga. Her publications include a chapbook, Life in This House, and a poem forthcoming in The Bellingham Review. Her poem “Invisible” won the poetry prize at the Words and Music/Pirate’s Alley conference and was published in The Double Dealer.

At my first Weight Watchers meeting in January 2001, my sister Jennifer and I waited to step on the electronic scale.  I observed the other women waiting:  some looked too skinny to be there; others looked just like me, massive, with flabby skin sweaty with the exhaustion of hauling ourselves around.

I’d been overweight my whole life, and at 21 years old, I was done being the “Fat Girl.”  That day, I was racked with anxiety.  It embarrassed me when even my doctor read the scale, but I closed my eyes and stepped up.  The woman behind the counter filled in my “Starting Weight” box.  238 lbs.  My throat closed.  Oh God, I thought.  Don’t cry, don’t cry.

I knew my body was larger than others.  But seeing that number innocently staring up at me cemented it in my mind—I was fat, huge, massive.  I can’t do this, I thought, this is too much. I pushed down these thoughts that I knew would make me fail before I even began.  I glanced at Jenn’s paper and saw 220 lbs., then showed her mine, clenching my jaw to ward off the still-threatening tears.  Neither of us could believe I weighed that much.

*

Later, I logged on to the Weight Watchers website and tried out the tools.  I checked the charts that told what my healthy weight was:  at 5’5”, I should weigh about 135 pounds—at least a hundred pounds had to go.

I clicked to find out my Body Mass Index.  I needed to face the truth, just like I needed to face that Starting Weight box.  I entered my height and current weight and waited for the computer to process.  Your BMI is 39.7.  According to the explanatory paragraph, a BMI of 20–25 is healthy and a BMI over 30 is considered “very overweight (obese).”

I scored nearly ten points above “obese,” which meant I was unbelievably obese, send-in-the-clowns obese, morbidly obese.  I’d never defined myself by that term—who wanted to call themselves morbidly anything?  Morbid means rotten, near death, overwhelmingly odorous, gruesome, or somehow psychologically depraved.  The woman thought the man morbid because he pinned live insects to cardboard and watched them writhe.  To be morbidly obese meant to be hopeless, disgusting, fit to be examined beneath glass but never touched with bare hands.

*

And then, I was thin.  In hindsight, the transformation feels instantaneous.  In reality, it took about a year until I was satisfied with my body.  In hindsight, it seems effortless.  I followed the program and weight fell off me in little bunches and that was that—the Fat Girl was gone.  At least from the naked eye.

Once, I ran into someone who hadn’t seen me throughout my entire weight loss.  He didn’t even recognize me until I spoke.  Totally new person to him.

And yet, my grandmother said, “You look so much better than you used to.”  Totally repaired person to her.

I never owned my fatness.  I never celebrated it the way some people seem able to do.  I never stood nude before a mirror and said, “Yes, this is me.  I am the bounteous rolls of flesh, I am the thickness of supple thighs, the curves of soft shoulders, the roundness of these hips, the woman of these DD-cup breasts.”

Instead, I didn’t look at my body except in shame and told myself that I was just like all my thin friends.  I was awkward in my fatness, because I didn’t wield it like the weapon it can be in the hands of a girl who doesn’t let the body she has stand in the way of the person she is.  By getting thin, I felt I was excavating from the caverns of fat the girl I really was.  With each pound gone, I felt I was getting closer to her, getting closer to me.

*

At size eight, one could say, I have arrived.  I am at ease in public.  I can concentrate on the book in my hands or the sidewalk beneath my feet because I don’t worry if someone is wondering why that Fat Girl can’t get control of herself.

In many ways, I have become invisible.

Yet, I am seen.  I am seen for my dark brown eyes and shiny auburn hair.  For my slender pianist’s fingers and rosy cheeks.  For my easy smile and sense of humor.

For these things that were there all along.

Kristin Blank earned her Master of Fine Arts degree in creative writing from American University in Washington, DC.  Her work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Vermillion Literary Project, and on BettyConfidential.com.  She currently lives in Maryland.

Connecting to Divine Energy

Sit in a relaxed pose with your feet on the floor and your hands in your lap, palms up. Imagine there is a cord of any
color or thickness going from the base of your spine to the center of the earth. Once you create your cord, it will always
be available to ground you. All you have to do is think about it. Your cord can go through solid objects, even if you are
on the top floor of a tall building or flying in an airplane.

Next, visualize a large ball of sparkling, golden light about a foot above you. Bring this light gently down into the top of
your head. See it moving throughout your body: your throat, heart, solar plexus, and abdomen. Send it down your arms
and legs, and back up. Finally, flush the light down through your grounding cord, taking with it any “dis-ease” or
negativity.

Connecting to Earth Energy

Begin as above, but instead create a cord attached to the bottom of each foot. Visualize earth energy moving gently up
towards you through these cords. Feel it enter your feet and begin to rise up into your body until it has filled you
completely. This energy will feel thick and relaxing. Try this meditation when you feel over-stimulated, stressed, or
have trouble sleeping.

This article is excerpted from Psychic Surgery and Faith Healing: An Exploration of Multi-Dimensional Realities,
Indigenous Healing, and Medical Miracles in the Philippine Lowlands by Jessica Bryan (Red Wheel/Weiser/Conari, 2008).
Jessica is a spiritual medium, energy healer, and freelance book editor. Contact Jessica in Southern Oregon at 541-535-6044 or editor@mind.net. Read her blog at: www.psychicsurgery.wordpress.com.

When I was fourteen all I wished for were to die.

I wallowed in a deep depression that seemed to never end. Then a sudden rush of love washed over my entire body one day. It was truly amazing. Something straight from Heaven. I loved everything around me. All I knew was I had never felt like that before.  Well, maybe I did when I was younger. Infants and children often feel like this before their bright spirits are dimmed by the constant distractions in life. It’s a balancing act, and sometimes the scales can tilt. You see, as we age, we get wound up in issues, whether caused by our families, by peers or through messages found in the media.  And some lose sight. I was supposed to be a child of Light.  So that day I promised myself that it wouldn’t happen again. But like anything, without practice, your lessons will soon fade.

Avoid the reminders, and things can get worse. Like what happened back in 2006.  Broken by a number of countless relationships and a career that wasn’t taking off, I felt lost. Why wasn’t anything working for me? So I opened Pandora’s box by concentrating on all the negativity.  Then came the illness. I had flu-like symptoms that wouldn’t go away, zero energy and my hair began to fall out. I can still recall sitting at my desk typing away and feeling hairs breaking off from the top of my head. It was embarrassing and frightening. So what was wrong? Well, no one knew.  Test after test claimed that I was healthy. But I knew.

Desperate for a cure, I began to investigate alternative approaches to healing. And discovered people who had been in the same boat as me. Who had failing health but tested out healthy as could be. I began to incorporate what they recommended and soon found healing too. Then a few people told me to check out Louise Hay’s book, You Can Heal Your Life. So I did. It was uncanny how her book kept coming up in random conversations. So I read it in just a few days. And then odd things began to happen. I had premonitions while I slept and noticed I was becoming clairvoyant too.  For about a month, I could wake up and know what was going to happen each day. Even whom I was going to run into. I thought to myself, “it’s boring being a psychic because you live a life of no surprises.”

As I continued to meditate, pearls of wisdom came to light. I understood that God, the Universe, or Whoever/Whatever you believe in is already inside of us. And each person has the free will to reflect that Light back to our world in any way they wish. Some choose a dimmer Light while others are bright. Since the source of this Light is all the same, it is important to love yourself and others alike. Unconditionally. Every single person can be as bright as Mother Teresa or as dim as an inmate on death row. And all have the power to adjust their Lights at will.

I was in ecstasy. Pure nirvana. And since then have wanted to share this message with all of you. To help others brighten their Light. And bring about healing too.

In 2006, Sarah was chronically ill and desperate for a cure so she began investigating alternative approaches. She discovered people who found peace when adapting more self-aware lifestyles, so she practiced them… and began to heal, too.  Enthusiastic about her experience, Sarah’s goal is to share her knowledge with others. Working on a novel, her next book will highlight her journey toward total-body healing. Contact Sarah at: colormyspirit@yahoo.com

What do I ache for?

Do I dare to dream of meeting my heart’s longing?

And so on…

The Invitation

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.