With regards to food, I am very familiar with the ebbs and flows of what, in retrospect, can be called “progress.” My intimate, decades-long dance with food has allowed me to get to this place where I am right now: A place where I absolutely never feel guilty about what I eat. I have come to a deep acceptance that my transgressions are part of my progress and I just don’t stress about it anymore. That said, I am not in a place of acceptance with regards to other aspects of my life, I have realized, even though they also have cycles of change. Were I to see them more clearly, I think I might feel less struggle and stress around them.

If I describe the food cycle, I might earm myself a little more clarity. It goes something like this. You feel crummy. Something’s not working, you have indigestion or low energy or some form of physical or emotional pain that is enough to be motivating. This lends itself to the temporary resolve to make changes. You change your food, you go out for a run, you keep it all up for a while and you are in the ascending part of the cycle. The kickbacks of feeling good and having better energy and sleeping well are motivating, so you keep it up. At some point, you sort of plateau. You’ve been so good. (I want to put that in quotes, because there’s no real good or bad about it, really.) Then there’s some sort of trigger. Emotional turmoil, a birthday party or any of the other intensely sweet celebrations we have through the year. Maybe it’s a cookout or an office party or you go out for a glass of wine and –whoops– have a couple bottles between the two of you. We always eventually have some sort of destabilizing event in which we partake in extreme foods or drinks and give a big heave-ho to our cravings pendulum.

This is the point at which I used to feel guilty, but now I don’t, and neither should you, because guilt keeps the pendulum swinging. Willpower is like spending on a credit card. Eventually you have to pay it back, sometimes with interest.

The last time I did this was a few weeks ago on a road trip. Road trips just seem to inspire cravings for junk food, don’t they? (Possibly because highways are a wilderness of nourishment, but that’s another story.) I had a Ben and Jerry’s Peace Pop. I really enjoyed it. I read the label and I enjoyed it thoroughly anyway. I knew over the course of the following days I would have more cravings for similar things, so I bought a really nice 70% cacao bar of chocolate and had squares of it when I wanted them, naturally fewer and fewer each day, until I didn’t want any anymore.

OK, that’s a really mild example, but believe me I’ve had my share of benders through the years, and still do. I’m always pushing it, actually, to see what I can get away with. After eating a clean diet of whole foods for months and years, you get physically more sensitive to unsupportive food. It can hurt to eat an old favorite. After that happens, you just really don’t want it again for quite a long time (until you forget) and this has nothing to do with willpower.

Now this sounds contradictory, but I have also experienced another phase after this sensitivity phase. I believe you can re-cultivate a damaged “inner eco-system” so that you have all the digestive power you are capable of, and this results in having a more stable equilibrium. I think of equilibrium as a fulcrum– like a seesaw on a triangle. In a fragile one, the triangle comes to a point and it’s really easy to disrupt the equilibrium. But slowly you can flatten out the top so that the seesaw stays put and you can roll with the variety that life throws at you a little better.

Many people, like my dad, just have a naturally very stable equilibrium. He works at it too, though, with lots of water and exercise and making least-worst food choices. (Years of living on Mountain Dew and Frito-Lay will undo even the most stable constitutions, of course.)

So I’m always sort of pushing it to see what my equilibrium will tolerate. Often with french fries. But over the years, my “up” cycle of eating the best I eat has gotten higher and my “down” cycle of eating the worst I eat has also gotten higher. So I relax. I take the long view. If I have more learning to do with chocolate cake, I risk the pain and jump into it. I have less and less learning to do as time goes on! The low, painful parts of the cycle are actually valuable and crucial for finding the motivation to strive higher in the next up cycle. Perhaps it’s unconventional, but I counsel my clients and students to just jump right off that wagon (consciously) if they have more learning to do. “It’s Research!” as Anne Marie Colbin says.

This is why I find it so funny when people joke about not letting me see the food they’re buying or eating around town. A friend and client of mine (probably more than one!) has been making so many changes at home with her food that her husband is probably ready to yell at me. We joked about my clients’ husbands jumping out from behind the next booth in a restaurant and yelling “HA! You’re eating FRENCH FRIES!” hee hee. I would love that. Then I would share my fries.

Anyway, I’ve recently realized that although I’m very comfortable with this cycle of progress with regards to food, I’m always frustrated with other parts of my growth and progress. My house isn’t ever really clean. My garden is never really weeded. My work is never done and I’m never making “enough” progress on my personal and spiritual goals. So this week I am focusing on seeing the bigger picture with all these other cycles in my life. I’m unfolding in cycles of growth that will look like progress in retrospect.

Filed under: 1