Thoughts on a well-fed life

When I think about where I’ve come from, where I’ve been, where I am now and remark, “Holy hell, that was a long walk." I’ve skirted the edges of “well-fed” for years, originally thinking it had everything to do with my kale consumption.  Raw almonds.  Check.  Gluten-free?  On it.  No sugar?  DONE.  I had control dialed in.  My go-to girl, of sorts.  Eat this, not that.  Wear this, never that.  Smooth down your hair.  Can't you control your curls?  No permission, only perfection.  I trusted that if I held on tight and followed the rules, my life would blossom into the fully-lived, happiness-fest I pined for.

Not so, dear girl.  Not so.  Turns out, it’s not possible to create a well-fed life while living in a state of gripped withholding.  One cannot be well-fed when only allowed to edge desires, filling life with shoulds rather than needs.  Favoring restriction over satiety.

I look to what fed me then, competitive exercise, compulsive scale-checking, counting fat grams, each lined up like dutiful Von Trapp children waiting for my whistle, and I thank my wiser, older self for coming to her senses.  It was slow going, slogging at times, and totally worth it for as we know, a poorly-fed life is no life at all.

I now relish in the bubbling spring of permission that is my well-fed way.  I stretch and languish in the warmth that is me saying YES to me.  All of me.  Funny faces, wild hair, fears and all.  Kale continues to play a big part, as does cabbage, goat cheese, truffles and Sauvignon Blanc.  Food lays the beautiful foundation of my fulfillment, yet it is not my only fulfillment, as it once was.

After food I feed off writing, each morning.  Opening my heart all over the white, accepting page.  I take big bites of dance, shaking, flowing, flopping and spinning when the music moves me, sometimes at the salsa club, often on my kitchen tiles.

I take naps when I’m hungry for them.  And sometimes when I’m not.  Sometimes I sleep just for kicks because in my well-fed life, I can.  And do.

Freedom.  Peace.  Ease.  Wisdom.  These are the feelings that feed me now and round out my life, filling it to the brim.  I write, dance, dream, and coach from these states and drop in regularly to what is real.  I wonder, “What can I do to feel free today?  What dish will most please my tummy and tastebuds?  Where am I saying NO that could be a YES?”  I finally feel listened to and with that, full and satiated.  It shocks me, still.  Shocking that the well-fed life I craved for years arrived, not with restrictive willpower, but when I gave myself permission to have it.  No regulations or perfection required.  Only communion with what truly nourishes me, body and soul.  I come back to that communion daily and say YES to her in the biggest voice I can muster.  Sometimes it's scary to say yes.  Terrifying actually.   But it must be done to experience any semblance of freedom.

And so I say...

Yes to dance, expression, and heart-stopping love.  Yes to chocolate, gut guffaws and witty email banter.  Yes to red lips, hip-hugging jeans, sexy sunglasses and dinner with the girls.  Yes to tears, the cavernous nature of my soul, space, driving too fast, alone time, stomping across the living room and screaming at the top of my lungs.

I say YES to these things and more because, now, with my YES, my big, well-fed life can hold it all.

Tell me in the comments below, what does your well-fed life look like?  What are you ready to say YES to?  Where can you being to feel fully nourished?

Love this post?  Then pass it along to other ladies who deserve a well-fed life.

Biggest love and I cannot wait to hear,

Jamie

P.S.  Not sure what a well-fed life even looks like for you?  Don't worry, sweet girl, the answer is here.  Today is your last chance to sign up for the Delicious Detox, which starts TOMORROW.  For any woman looking for a well-fed life, this program is a brilliant place to start.  This is the last time the Delicious Detox will be run, so if your heart is calling for some good feeding, it's time to get onboard.  

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