I love that macrobiotics has a long, rich history, full of great characters.  Much, much more than a diet, macrobiotics has a whole community of people who have devoted their lives’ work to spreading the word of healthy, whole foods and the personal transformations contained therein.  Nice use of "therein" eh?

Aveline Kushi was a pioneer .  She left her hometown, and then native Japan to come to America.  It was after Japan’s whole identity had been decimated by the A-bomb.  She had gone to study with George Ohsawa and he had encouraged her to go to America and teach with Michio Kushi, with the dream of creating one peaceful world .  She came over here in the early 1950s and they created a life together–with Aveline at the helm in the kitchen –teaching the power of food. 

Michio and Aveline had their hands in the importation of tofu , futons , acupuncture  and the cultivation of organic foods .  Aveline’s cookbook is a macrobiotic bible .  Some of their early students include Dr. Dean Ornish , Gloria Swanson  and John & Yoko .  Their influence traces back to the beginnings of the health food movement.  LOOOONG before health food was cool. 

Aveline passed away 9 years ago this month.  Every year since her death, a number of people have received the Aveline Kushi Award here at the Summer Conference.  It goes to people who have shown the same spirit and commitment to this work.  This year it went to Masao Miyaji and his wife Evelyne, who started Masao’s kitchen in the Boston area .  It is a restaurant that has served macrobiotic-quality food for many, many years. 

Other recipients included Francisco (Chico) Varatojo  and his wife Eugenia, who started the Macrobiotic Center in Lisbon, Portugal. 

Patricio Garcia de Parades, who I remember as the hottest guy at the Kushi Institute 17 years ago (BUT I CAN’T FIND A PICTURE OF HIM ON THE INTERNET!!! ARGH!), also won the award for his lifetime of service which has culminated in his running of the Kushi Institute of Japan. 

And finally, Dr. Martha Cottrell, the coolest 81 year old I’ve ever met.  She should have gotten it just for cutting rug on the dance floor, but she’s also brought her medical training and experience to bear on the last three decades of her macrobiotic practice.  She was instrumental in bringing macrobiotic food and studying its amazing effects on a group of HIV/AIDS sufferers in the early ’80s.  When people just weren’t doing that stuff. 

I didn’t know Aveline that well.  I met her after she had gotten sick and I remember her humility around that.  She said "Yin and yang… lifetime study".  She was utterly gracious and grateful for all the care she received–macro and medical.  Although people were reverent towards her, she was utterly playful, even insisting on performing a kimono striptease  every year at the conference talent show.  That is sorely missed.  She had the teensy body of a hummingbird and the spirit of a proud, beautiful, lion . 

My last conversation with Aveline took place in Boston, over the phone.  I was calling to find out if I could stay at the Kushi House that night, having landed in the city sort of by accident.  I had been reading the novel Memoirs of a Geisha which described what I imagined was the Japan she had grown up in.  I told her about the book, the culture of the geishas… how amazing Japan seemed to be… how it made me think of her.  She listened politely.  She took it all in.  And with perfect comic timing, she said:  "Ahhh… so nice… you become geisha?" 

Aveline was a riot. 

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I was asked by some friends to play a part in their upcoming independent feature film.  "Sure, what part?" I asked, getting all ready for my close-up, imagining myself kissing a gorgeous guy , or wielding a prop gun , and they said "um, like, a hypnotist?  A hippie hypnotist? " And like all my actor colleagues–Meryl, Marlon, Miley–I thought:  "Hm.  Type-casting!  ALREADY!!!!"

But that’s just the biz.  You see, this summer, at the Kushi Institute Summer Conference (go next year–it’s really great), I met Arin Crumley  and Isis Masoud .  He made Four-Eyed Monsters, a huge web-driven hit about his relationship with a former girlfriend.  Isis, a dancer and choreographer, is one of the founding members of the Pole-ite Girls  who were launched to national notoriety when they pole-danced on New York City subway trains.  These two were documenting the conference and, having seen me do a speech on hypnosis the year before, asked if I would do some witch-poo brain-washing on them!  Of course, I agreed and we filmed a couple of long, intense, life-shifting hypnosis sessions starring themselves .  It was really fun.  I have no idea what that footage will eventually become (if anything) but over a couple of days, we forged a nice bond and they–maybe the grooviest and hippest people I know–knighted me an ageing hipster in the court of 21st century cool .  Thank God. 

So now they want my skills for their feature film about Burning Man.  Their assistant director would be Roger Ingraham , who holds the record as the youngest filmmaker to ever show at Sundance, with a little vampire flick he made at 19 years old called Moonshine. 

Hmm… what shall I charge for all this?  What would Reese do?  Can I get Nicole on the phone?  Do I have them remove the brown M & Ms like my friends in Van Halen  or am I not that big a diva?  I decided that I would forgo my regular 7-figure fee and just go along for the ride.  I flew to New York , made my way to a vast loft in Williamsburg filled with every conceivable type of costumed, body-painted, sparkly twenty-something and entered into the world of the silver screen .

Now, it’s natural to expect hysterics and ego-centered insanity on any movie set.  Les Artistes can become quite dramatique at times.  But this set was different.  Sane, friendly, patient and fun.  When I started to get hungry and went over to the food table, I figured out why:  Isis, who has been macrobiotic for a number of years, had made a spread centered around a delicious brown rice salad (See recipe below).  There were beans, organic corn chips , fresh salad and a pasta dish.  Not a shred of meat… no dairy… and no white sugar.  I was not the only one to connect the dots between the calm and balanced food and the nice vibe of the set.   After working for more than 16 hours, Arin, Isis and anyone still waiting around at 11 p.m. was still in a decent mood . 

We finally shot my scene and I’m pretty sure of the following:  I did not barf, nor pick my nose on camera.  Other than that, it is a blur.  Fingers crossed I was okay.  Apparently, I looked like this:  .  For more than that, I’ll see you at the movies!

Chew well,

Jessica

P.S. Here is Isis’ recipe for her brown rice salad:

I fretted and freaked until I struck a remarkable deal with myself.  This simple contract cast a blinding light on a chaotic, fearful situation: I could eat anything and everything I wanted in Peru, but I had to chew every single bite of it thoroughly.  Like, one hundred times.  EVERY single bite.

Now that might sound insane, and maybe it was, but it was also one of the best decisions I have ever made.  Upon arriving in Peru, my mission began.  At first, it was embarrassing and a pain in the butt.  I explained myself by saying I had to chew really well because of some problem with my teeth.  Ahh, white lies–So helpful!  My body, used to having food-bricks launched into it, had to re-train itself to absorb liquid food, and my mouth–the lazy bastard–had to go to the gym.  I sat out entire conversations, or just participated between bites… but I tell ya, I really, really tasted that food.  And it was a smart decision because it took us a couple of days in Lima to get our bearings and find the one vegetarian restaurant in our guidebooks.  It quickly became clear that we weren’t gonna find brown rice, let alone seaweed anytime soon.  In fact, I found the picarone cart on the second day and chewed the heck out of an amazing Peruvian donut!

We even took a trip to a tributary of the Amazon.  It required two days on a bus negotiating fatally skinny switchbacks, and then four days in canoe-ish type things, camping in the jungle.  I had NO control over the food… white pasta, Oreo cookies and tuna fish were staples.  I chewed and I chewed and I chewed.  Instead of experiencing headaches and depression and fatigue, I chuckled as the monkeys threw things at us from the tree tops.  I lay in my tent, eyes closed and listening to a mind-blowing symphony of buzzing insects in the jungle.  At night, I saw the phosphoresent glow of weird Amazonian bugs and plants on the river.  I may have been eating Oreos but I was totally awake and experiencing every single mind-blowing moment of my life. 

More benefits of chewing; sparkly eyes, great physical energy and co-ordination, a total in-the-moment absorbtion and enjoyment of people, places and things.  An overall good mood.  I started losing weight and my skin looked gorgeous.  Meanwhile, Howard–who was speaking great Spanish but wasn’t chewing quite as religiously–would experience dips in energy, moodswings and all the infamous South American digestion problems.  I had none.  Honest to God, because I kept my contract with myself, it was one of the most seamless, enjoyable, and conscious experiences of my life.  All six weeks of it.  Chewing is amazing. 

So I’d like to start a week-long CHEW-A-THON  with all the readers of this blog.  I’d like to suggest that we chew each bite 50 to 100 times each.  Every bite.  For one week.  I think we will all be amazed.  You can post your experiences on my blog and I will write and tweet every day that week, supporting us all to experience what our lives are like, thoroughly chewed.  I will talk about the bio-mechanics of it, the spiritual dimension of it, and give practical tips, including a chewing video!!!!

The CHEW-A-THON begins on the Tuesday after Labor Day, September 8th and goes through September 14th.  And remember: You don’t have to be macro to do this, so invite your friends of all culinary paths to try chewing on for size…

You might want to practice a little before then, sitting down, focusing and really masticating.  Keep the back of your mouth closed and DON’T SWALLOW until you’ve reached your 50, or your 100.  That’s the key.  You can do it!  YAHOO!!!

It just didn’t seem like I had much to say this summer, between double espressos and white pasta dishes. My mind was racing a hundred miles an hour, dashing from irritation to resentment. And when the intensity faded and the race track cleared, I was left with grief… the stinking hot tar of grief. And I didn’t feel like sharing.

In the last weeks of her life, my mother and I spoke about my future. I told her that, although I was very glad to have moved back to Toronto–that it was full of valuable, often painful lessons–I felt like a square peg in a round hole there. No matter how much I tried to wrestle Canadian culture into what I needed it to be, and no matter how much it tried to pack my childhood neuroses back into my psyche, it just wasn’t working. I didn’t fit anymore and it felt bad. My mother gave me her blessing to leave our hometown. She understood.

When I was little, I remember my mother saying, on more than one occasion “if I were ever to live anywhere outside of Canada, it would be in England. I’d like to be near the sea.” Now, it’s important to understand that my mother was a very practical person, not disposed to staring out of windows, misty-eyed, pronouncing her dreams and visions. None of us ever thought she’d actually end up in England–as far as we were concerned, it was just something that she said, like “you can’t modify the word ‘unique’” and “will you get me some chicken McNuggets?”.

But Mum was tuning into was her dream. She was receiving little flashes of it many years before it manifested fully, but it was there. And at the age of 55, after a few midlife crises and a some fruitful years in therapy, my mother–much to the amazement of her friends and family–left smug and snug Toronto and headed straight for the sea. She bought a flat in Cornwall, in the west of England and pronounced that she would spent six months of every year there from now on.

I’m only beginning to realize the courage it took for her to leave. Yes, it was an English-speaking country and yes, she had the financial resources to do it comfortably, but as I age, I understood more deeply how yang and contracted we become over time. To bust out of a safe, respectable and familiar environment and expand into the relative unknown–at 55–takes some balls. But something inside of her was pushing and pushing, and it wasn’t going to stop.*

Within a year, my dear mum, who hadn’t been in a relationship for fourteen years, met the love of her life and her plans to return to Toronto became a joke. Clearly, by following her intuition, she had put herself in the right place at the right time. The last fourteen years of her life she just got happier and happier. She discovered macrobiotics, her spirituality and her life became a dream infused with love from every direction.

So I landed in California two weeks ago. It’s the place that’s been calling to me for the last five years, but if I’m really honest with myself, I’ve had a fascination with it since I was a child. I’ve lived here once before–for a few months–and every time I’ve been here I have felt more myself, and more aligned with my work in the world than I do anywhere else; macrobiotics and hypnosis are practically mainstream in Southern California, and a huge percentage of hits on this site come from this hot, shaky, celebrity-dotted desert. It’s not where I’m from, but it’s home. I’ve moved into an apartment in a magical bamboo forest, owned by some macrobiotic friends, Eric and Sanae, who live just next door. I’m very, very happy. Listening to that little voice inside produces a happiness nothing else can match. Although I miss my family and friends in Toronto deeply, I can hear my mother somewhere, cheering.

*For a great example of having a dream and acting on it, see Man on Wire.

RECIPE:

It’s the time of year for settling foods–foods that help stabilize blood sugar and tonify the stomach, spleen and pancreas. As summer lays down like a panting dog, our bodies need to settle down from all the expansion, in preparation for autumn’s contraction. This time of year is known as Late Summer and its foods are sweet vegetables, sweet rice and millet. Its taste is (you guessed it) sweet. The harvest is coming in and life is very sweet and abundant. So here’s a squash soup recipe by my friends, from their book, Love, Eric and Sanae:

Butternut Squash and Kidney Bean Potage

Makes 4 servings:

For the Kidney Beans:

1/4 cup kidney beans, sorted and rinsed

2 cups water

1-inch strip of kombu

For the squash soup:

1 butternut squash

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 brown onion, finely diced

2 carrots, finely diced

2 cups water

2 pinches sea salt

2 pinches curry powder

1 tablespoon white miso

1/2 cup rice milk (unsweetened)

To make the kidney beans:

1. Soak the beans in ample water for 4 to 6 hours. Drain.

2. In a large pot with a lid, combine the beans, water and kombu and bring to a boil.

3. Cover and simmer for 40 minutes, or until beans are fully cooked and still retain their shape.

To make the squash soup:

1. Using a vegetable peeler, peel the squash, slice in half, and remove the seeds. Coarsely chop the squash and set aside.

2. In a medium saucepan, warm the oil. Saute the onions lightly for a few minutes.

3. Add the carrots, squash, and water, and simmer for a few minutes.

4. Add the sea salt and curry powder. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 20 minutes.

5. Transfer vegetables to a blender. Add the miso and rice milk and puree until creamy.

6. Transfer to a large bowl or pot, gently stir in the whole beans and serve.

Anyhoo, I think I’m getting there. My point is that practicing MB is sooooooo much easier when it’s done in connection with others, and the internet really provides that opportunity. And now that the video technology is decent, we can be with one another in real time. The classes aren’t exactly pot lucks, but I love that I can show a food (like daikon, burdock, umeboshi plum) that might never get eaten without a gentle, visual introduction. I was intimidated by all this weird stuff in the beginning too! I love that people can ask questions and get immediate answers. NOW ALL OUR PROBLEMS ARE SOLVED AND THE WORLD WILL BE MINE. Wow. Big stuff for a little Wednesday in January! I had a lot of fun tonight, and the viewers, from Orlando, Joliet, Topeka, Toronto, The Berkshires, and Boston (to name just a few of the cities from which people logged on) seemed to have fun too. And hopefully we all feel inspired to keep cooking, letting nature have her wonderful way with us.

If you want to join us next week, go here
God, I love life sometimes.

But back to the cooking.  When I saw my mother over Christmas, and how she just cooks like a machine, I made a commitment to cook for 90 minutes a day, 5 days a week.  You might have assumed that I already cooked that much, being the obnoxious macro guru I purport to be, BUT YOU WOULD BE WRONG.  Cooking regularly is one of the biggest issues in my life.  And I’ve actually prayed about it on a number of occasions, saying “Hey Goddess, I know all this cool stuff about food… I even LIKE health food… You’ve even blessed me with this annoying hypochondria so that every time I eat crummy food I retreat into an ‘I’m gonna get cancer’ paralysis… and I know that by cooking every day my life would be so much better…. please help me!”  And yet, I would have this strange resistance–like an anorexia that springs up in the face of my desire.  But watching my mother cook from such surrender busted through all that.  She just did it.  No questions asked.

And I have been feeling terrific!!!  So much energy.  Clarity.  Feelings.  A wonderful sense of forward momentum.  And relief from that horrible hypochondria.

I also went back to acting class.  Ugh.  I’m realizing that I actually have to change (Scream).  And grow (teeth chattering).  Be vulnerable (excuse me while I jump off this cliff!).  And trust my teacher.  Yeah, right.

Truth be told, after I’ve had my hissy fit, I love it when life surprises me–when I get sucked down a vortex I didn’t know was there.  And I had totally forgotten that acting was an unending education, like macrobiotics.  I became arrogant and fixed, rigidly protective of my “self”.  And George Ohsawa said that arrogance is the worst form of illness   Of course, life holds a million vortices waiting to consume us, but the ego does everything to lock into its patterns and habits, repeating them until it feels that lovely illusion of security. BYE BYE EGO.  At least in acting class.

Speaking of class, please join me online so we can cook together.  I’m so excited to send this information out over the web to people all over the place.  I realize that the time zone won’t work for some of you, but as soon as these classes run smoothly, I will create a new time that will work for more hip chicks ’round the planet.

Yeehaw.  JUST KEEP COOKING.

Have a great weekend,

Jessica

It’s easy to be a snob as a macrobiotic–in fact, MB practice sort of creates it. You start to feel good–really good–and one of the first things the mind say is “I feel so GOOD!” And then it rationalizes (because it must rationalize, and place itself within duality): “Anyone who doesn’t eat like me is an IDIOT!” It’s easy to get arrogant, sanctimonious, and frankly, boring. Thank God the real principles of macrobiotics–the laws of yin and yang–have nothing to do with judging anyone.

It would have been easy to be a macro snob this week, thinking that these two worlds shouldn’t rub together. But had I held onto those attitudes, I might have missed the whole experience. Instead, I looked at it all in the spirit of PLAY–George Ohsawa’s bottom line (read my book if you don’t know who George is). To George, life was play.

Now, play doesn’t mean having fun every single second of every day.  The real meaning of play comes when you study yin and yang, seeing the larger picture of attraction and repulsion, with everything eventually becoming its opposite!  When you begin to perceive that, you can detach from the conventional wisdom and “play”.  Eating macrobiotically also allows you to have a natural flexibility in all situations, which makes life more playful.   “Play” is an apt term too because, when you eat whole grains, abstaining from crappy, processed food, your body cooks up your natural happy chemicals, and you feel a simple, God-given high-on-life euphoria that kids often have.   The MB ride is soft, and deep, and exciting and fun.  It doesn’t mean there isn’t pain, and loss, and that you never have problems–and that they don’t sometimes really suck– but they are all eventually perceived as part of a bigger puzzle of yin and yang.

So, it was great to “play” on the Shopping Channel this week. Great to be part of the health food industry’s great expansion over the last 30 years, as this whole thing becomes more and more mainstream. George also said that yin attracts yang and yang attracts yin; so maybe it’s not so strange when the macrobiotic diet–the ultimate labor-intensive, hardcore health food nutcase diet goes on a date with its whirling, cubic zirconia–strewn, sugar-laced, get-one-now, “only thirty seconds left” energy OPPOSITE.  Yin and yang, baby.  It’s the only game in town.

Truth is, I didn’t sell a huge number of books–but I think I might have planted some interesting seeds. And for the people out there who did order the book off the Shopping Channel, THANK YOU and I would love to hear from you as you begin your macro adventures.

Life is play. Chew well,

Jessica

P.S. Now I can get an “As seen on the Shopping Channel” tattoo on my ass!

First of all, I want to say THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU to everyone who has posted blog-encouragement to me in the last week or so. Every message has been sucked on like a candy and throughly digested by my soul. Thank you. It really helps. If you feel moved to keep it comin’, I will continue to appreciate it.

Second, today is the one-year anniversary of my meeting a man with whom I embarked on a love roller coaster that eventually boomeranged into a House of Haunted Horrors this past year. Which was not entirely a bad thing (Everything that has a front has a back–the bigger the front, the bigger the back). I learned a lot… I grew a lot… I cried a lot… and the whole experience managed to smash a long-held template in my heart that was no longer serving me–probably the true silver lining to the cloud. Plus, the love part is always wonderful, no matter how it ends. Because today is the anniversay or the original meeting… it seems important to mark it. Normally, I might feel self-conscious about mentioning it in public, but because this person happens to be gleefully self-absorbed, there’s very little risk that he’s reading this.

We recently experienced the Winter solstice, which is my favorite day of the year; it is from here that we boomerang into expansion after having reached the ultimate depths of contraction. It is at solstice time that I am forced to face the yuckiest yuck of my shadow–the deepest fears and sludge–and from here on in, nothing is really that scary.

Speaking of scary, blogging has forced me to wrestle with the idea of privacy recently–with the energetic insulation we carry in the world to keep ourselves our “selves”, stopping us from bleeding into cyberspace–psyches spilling into the void. However, I’ve been reading some of my favorite writers–Marianne Williamson, Anne Lamott, David Sedaris– and it’s exactly their vulnerability and honesty I find most compelling. I’ve taken my sweet time with Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat (35th printing) Pray (might as well start printing money!) Love (who do you think will star in the movie?) and I am amazed at the nakedness she shows. And equally amazed at how much I love her for her nakedness. While her book is seemingly all about herself, it is actually a lively, funny, colorful veil on the face of the Goddess. A true paradox. It’s a reminder to me that only by being completely real do we allow intimacy with one another and offer an opening for God (or grace, or whatever-you-want-to-call-it) to shine through. So I’m gonna keep taking the risk of being more honest with myself and with you– dear Bloguee. I’m getting ready to tell my big secrets–the ones the squeeze of Autumn has been forcing me to confront–in the name of creating space for faith, for intimacy, and maybe even a miracle or two. Here goes:

THE THINGS I’M MOST AFRAID OF ADMITTING, 2007:

1. (Drumroll) … I’m single. And I’m not exactly 25 anymore. Or even 35. THIS FREAKS ME OUT. From the side of darkness, I hear: “Loser”, “What’s wrong with you?”, and the worst: “Everyone feels sorry for you”. But, even as I write that, all sorts of healthy voices rise up in my defense; voices that shout: “There are more single women in North America today than there are married ones!!” (True–New York Times, Jan. 07–google it) and “Women are single today because they no longer have to sacrifice their souls to mediocre relationships!” (Probably lots of truth to that–with all respect and kudos to people in healthy relationships) and “The Universe has not abandoned you just because you don’t have a ring on your finger!” (I do still seem to be breathing, walking, writing–even getting some action every once in a while, etc.)

In fact, when I see beyond my personal conflict with singleness, I appreciate that I am of a generation that has never existed before–we are chicks who have the education, the financial power, and the self-esteem to really live our lives–for ourselves, if we choose to. And although that may be swinging us to unprecedented extremes, someone has to discover how far the pendulum goes…someone’s gotta collect some payback for the witch hunts… I mean, someone had to set off for India and end up discovering the freakin’ New World!!. So why not us? Maybe my singleness is actually a sign of the times. In other generations, I would be married with kids right now whether I liked it or not. And there have been a lot of “nots” in our patriarchal history. That’s the pendulum swinging in the opposite direction–gender-based servitide, and many women around the world are still in it. Now I–and clearly many others–are riding to the furthest frontiers of female experience–a place of freedom, self-actualization, and … who know what else? And the women loving, feeding, growing families… they are our sisters, and we can balance each other out. So if you’re on this side of womanhood with me–singleness–I say it only makes sense to enjoy it. And who knows? Maybe Mother Nature really needs us right now. Maybe the lovely, magical yin energy that all women have available–maybe if it’s not being given to a partner, or kids–is meant to be channeled into alternative projects that need it just as urgently–like nature. It’s a serious time on the planet, these day, ladies. Someone’s gotta clean up the vibes around here…

All that being said, I have no problems with anyone sending me their nice, non-narcissistic, willing-to-eat-decent-food brother!

2. I’m afraid of being judged because I don’t practice macrobiotics perfectly. This is a big one, especially as I put out a public image as a macro “expert”. It also dovetails nicely with another fear: I’m afraid of dying of some funky disease and everyone saying: “Well, that proves that macrobiotics is baloney” or “she was such a hypocrite”. Welcome to the rarely-discussed neuroses of many health-careered people. For the record: I don’t do MB perfectly… followed by about everything else. The only thing I’ve done perfectly for the last 18 years is acknowledge that I am not perfect. Long-term consistency in any kind of discipline beyond that eludes me. I eat healthy food… regularly. I only cook macro food in my home. I think macrobiotically, meaning I am always looking for yin and yang of everything, but I do not practice like a saint or a monk. I do yoga… sometimes. I meditate… a lot, but not every single day. I pray… when I remember to. I get sucked into fear, and resentment and Houses of Haunted Horrors more often than I would like to admit. So there! Sue me.

3. I’m afraid of getting closer to God. When I first surrendered to the idea that there was a lovely, benevolent force guiding me along my path, I absolutely fell in love with It. I really did. I quit graduate school for It. I read everything I could get my hands on about It. I prayed to It. I talked about It inessantly. I would have handed out flowers in airports for It, I think, but thankfully never felt moved to. But in the last few years, I’ve grown quite complacent. Life is pretty good. “Move over, God(dess), I can do this thing called life–I wrote a freakin’ book, I’ve got lots of cool friends, I eat okay… come on–HAND ME THAT STEERING WHEEL!!”

You see, if I get closer to God,–really letting myself fall in love with It again–I will feel Its power, and that means NOT BEING IN CONTROL. And not being in control begat surrender. Which begat more ego destruction. More… whatever the hell God decides to give me… flowers in the airport? Embarrassing, decidedly un-Canadian zealotry? The point is: I DON’T KNOW! My way just seems–if not happier–at least more familiar…

But, when I get past this ego fear, I do have a sense that God(dess) has some pretty cool plans for the world: I think that It wants food-conscious people to support each other in our efforts to strengthen the quality of our bodies, and therefore the whole human fabric, by bringing back whole foods and the concept of balance. Not because there’s some crazy edict about it, but because that’s just nature taking nature back, through us. I believe that the Universe/God is pretty much on the side of the planet staying intact. I believe that–no matter who their parents are–that the Universe would like to see all kids given a decent shot at health and freedom. I believe that God wants me, and you, to keep striving in our lives… to realize our true dreams.

Which brings us neatly to NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS*. Yay! It’s so nice to clear out the fear to get to the positive stuff (another boomerang). SO HERE ARE MY DREAMS FOR THIS YEAR:

1. I would like this website to serve as a touchstone for everyone interested in improving their lives by improving what they shove in their pie-holes. I hope to inspire and educate through honesty and humor. And to be educated by you. I want this website to feel like a soft place to land (yes, I just quoted Dr. Phil–I HAVE A WEIRD THING FOR HIM–I can’t help it) in a world that tends to chew people up and spit them out.

2. I would like people (and especially women–I’ll be honest–with all respect to dudes, you’ve been in charge A LONG TIME, gentlemen!) to realize the AWESOME power that exists in our lowly kitchens. COOKING IS SO AMAZING! When I was in Florida recently, I met a woman who had just read my book. She took me to her lovely home and I saw that she had arranged her kitchen in a horseshoe pattern so that she cooked, and talked and healed from the center of the vortex. “You are a witch” I said, “a beautiful, powerful witch.” And we all are–in a good way. So let’s bring back the witchcraft, ladies (and warlocks), as we cook whole grains and vegetables for our loved ones. Let’s spread Mother Earth’s good vibes through our families and communities. Let’s secretly–and selfishly–love this world back into balance from our stoves. There ain’t no stakes to be burnt at, girls. At least not in North America. Thank Goddess.

3. Oh yeah, and I wanna win an Oscar. Almost forgot!

So what are your plans for the New Year? What are the fears or negative belief systems that might be getting in your way? How can we use this site to inspire each other?

Chew well,
Happy New Year.

*I just realized that New Year’s resolutions, which are invisible, vibrational projections (yin) are born of the extreme squeeze we experience at the solstice (yang). Every extreme produces its opposite. Neat! More macro gobbledygook: All “dreams” begin in the yin ether and we experience them as visions, intuitive urges, vibrations or desires. When our physical conditions are strong, and we eat whole foods–rich in minerals (yang)–we naturally begin to manifest our dreams; they literally come through us, going from the yin ether (dream) to yang (material reality) in the world. When you eat well, this process happens quite effortlessly. Try it–you’ll see. It’s one of the coolest things about being macro!

For more Hip Chick blather, check out the podcast I did at the
Hip Tranquil Chick website:

Ugh.

It’s strange to spend my life trying to recognize, sort through, and ultimately discard layers of sludge and useless “self”, then plop myself down in acting class–a room full of 24-year old blondes and their male counterparts–where I immediately take a nosedive into the murky, smelly fishtank of self. IT IS THE MOST INSECURE EXPERIENCE I’VE HAD IN A LONG TIME.

Talk about painful! I’ve been reading a lot about narcissism lately (a fascinating topic for any chick who has beaten her lovely head against a charming, engaging, but utterly immovable mountain of man-self—or vice versa, for male readers). Anyway, for a narcissist, the only real pain comes from what is called “narcissistic injury”, which is a blow to the fixed image they have of themselves as perfect, fabulous, or whatever. This blow creates a hole in their shimmery armor that is usually met with denial but, if acknowledged, comes face-to-face with the dragon of rage.

Welcome to my acting class.

But let me back up a little: I find ego-deflation liberating, albeit painful. And, to give myself a little credit here, I’ve done quite a bit of it; the eating disorder I carried through adolescence began to crumble in the face of spiritual growth and ego-reduction. I’ve meditated a hundred different ways and really dig that moment where thought just melts and my soul exhales. Ahhh, the freedom of selflessness! And although I could do a lot more of it, I really enjoy being of service to other people and the feeling of universal connectedness it brings.

BUT DON’T MESS WITH MY ACTING. Don’t critique it. Don’t punch holes in it. Don’t remind me that I’m not a 24-year old blonde with the world opening up to her like a rose. This part of my “self”, I want locked down in a shiny little box called “confidence” to which only I hold the key, thank you veddy much. And when my stupid, boring, totally unworthy-of-my-time acting teacher picks up that key and starts picking at the lock, my narcissistic dragon spits fire at him: “DON’T YOU SEE, MISTER STUPID ACTING TEACHER, THAT I HAVE NO HUMILITY HERE!!!! WHAT IS YOUR FREAKING PROBLEM?? JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!!”

I bet Cate Blanchett is just the same.

Ugh.

I guess I just need to trust, as we all do, that when our egos are challenged–whether it’s by spouses, children, bosses or acting teachers–there is a big Self underneath the rigid armor. That the universe is holding me up, while splinters of ego fly everywhere… that maybe there is a box much bigger than my little shiny one marked “confidence”.

Or some kind of bull like that.

I am off to England tomorrow, where I will be with my macro mother. We will cook together, and share our stories, and I will nurse my narcissistic wound. As we watch British TV, and I complain about my stupid acting class–comparing myself favorably to Judi Dench and Helen Mirren–my dragon’s fury will quietly cool down and the hole my stupid, boring, TOTALLY UNWORTHY acting teacher created will become a secret, magical opening to my future. And I’ll go back to class in January.

Ugh.

Do you invite the dissolution of self? How does it feel? During and after? How does the macrobiotic diet help dissolve the little self?

Chew well,

Jessica

But it keeps me humble. Makes me want to crack my macro books again, especially The Book of Macrobiotics, by Michio, which–when I first read it over fifteen years ago–BLEW MY MIND. I think that sometimes I feel like I’m functioning in a vacuum, surrounded by workaholic Canadians, and I forget that the spiral of my fingerprint is a lovely, stubby fractal of The Milky Way.

Maybe I’ve just been too busy shooting movies. You heard me! I have had one line in three different movies this year and I could not be happier. In fact, I am now going to retrieve the lost blog entry I wrote this summer after shooting the first one. MB is all about living one’s dream, and I guess I wish my dream were something a little more highfalutin, like “neuro-immunology” and not “putting on wigs and pretending to be other people”, but hey, you can’t pick yer path.

Chew well.