Five Tips for Fearless Change!

Is it just me, or are all the things that are supposed to be good for us... a little scary?

Every evening I go to bed with the best intentions - tomorrow I'm going to start that Couch-to-5K training, drink eight glasses of water, deny the lure of social media (seriously, like not even check Facebook ONCE), work hard on my business, maybe even try that brand-new charting software. I am going to change my habits and improve myself. I am going to be a powerhouse!

I wake up, have my glass of water. I turn on my iPhone to check the weather (because in Minneapolis, looking outside and seeing blue sky is no indication of what will be happening in ten minutes), and the next thing I know, I'm on Facebook, where I'm instantly pulled down the rabbit-hole of "You won't believe what happens NEXT!" links and "20 Adorable Tiny Baby Animals Being Cute" lists, and pictures of my brother's friend's sister's engagement ring. And then all of a sudden it's 10:00 and all I have time for is a quick shower and a bowl of cereal and it's time to work.

It never feels good, even when you're doing it. You know the thing - maybe it's when you're eating all the carbs when you said you wouldn't eat any carbs, or when you binge-watch an entire series of a terrible reality TV show instead of going out with a new group of friends. You know what's good for you, but somehow it's so hard to leave your comfort zone behind and change your pattern.

But I know the secret, and I suspect that you do, too: the scariest things, those good-for-you things that you might even dread doing, make you feel the most AWESOME at the end of the day. Every time you leave the safety of your comfort zone behind and get to cross one of those items off your list, you get a boost of empowerment that makes you feel like the unstoppable force you are.

So why does it have to be so hard to do those things? And why does it feel so good to just sit on the couch doing exactly what you know you shouldn't be doing instead?

Here are five things I've learned that will help you make way for positive change in your own life:

1. Be gentle with yourself. Change is uncomfortable. You have to do things a different way, meaning that you might fail, you might face rejection or feel more emotionally-drained than usual. If you're gearing up to try something new, be sure that you balance it out by making some space in your schedule for whatever healthy pampering fills your cup - like massage, time with friends, or time where you have permission to just "do nothing."

2. Failure IS an option. If you're trying something new, you have to know that it's going to take a while to be good at it, or to have it become part of your regular routine rather than a dreaded chore. Plot a date with yourself after a reasonable amount of time has passed to check in and decide whether to carry on or say "forget it." Not everyone is a runner, or a writer, or whatever you've set out to be, and that's okay. Life is too short to do something you consistently hate. Sometimes just knowing that you have given yourself an out is enough to keep you going through the more difficult times.

3. Build your confidence. I underestimated the role confidence played in my own life until I realized I was turning business away because I was afraid "I wasn't good enough." That was my wake-up call to stop focusing on just building my business and start developing myself. Strengthen your confidence by routinely learning new things about your area of expertise, doing something you know you are good at, and, of course, trying new things that challenge you. It's a two-way street; nothing will help you build confidence like doing something that scares you, but you need confidence to take those challenges on.

4. Hold yourself accountable. Taking on a challenge with a partner is a super-effective way to increase the likelihood that you will stick to your guns. Find a buddy who also has a goal they are working on (it doesn't even have to be the same one), and set up a weekly phone call or coffee date to set objectives and discuss progress. It also helps you feel less alone. We are social beings and we like to be able to share our struggle and be reminded that many feelings are universal.

5. Baby steps! So often, we make the mistake of setting goals for ourselves that only focus on the end goal and deny all the tiny adjustments and actions that must occur on the way to the finish line. Charting those steps and finding ways to make progress measurable will help you track your progress along the way so you don't get discouraged. The SMART system for goal-setting is a good place to start. There are lots of books and resources that will help you flesh this out even further.

I should mention that I'm excited to be starting a new chapter myself as I move from my current space in South Minneapolis to a new spa in Uptown - Artifex Wellness Center! If you've been interested in trying something new, I encourage you to book an acupuncture appointment with me. I promise - acupuncture is NOT scary!

"Where there is life, there is hope."

“However bad life my seem, there is always something you can do, and succeed at. Where there is life, there is hope.” – Stephen Hawking

 A few weeks ago, social media was flooded with posts about Robin Williams’ passing, which once again brought the subject of mental illness and depression into the public forum. More than anything, it seemed that people were shocked that a man who had achieved what appeared to be the very definition of “success” could possibly have wanted to take his own life. I think – if anything – this sentiment represents one of the most common misconceptions about mental illness: successful people are somehow immune, that mental illness and success are mutually-exclusive.

I have worked with severely depressed individuals in my own practice, which has deepened my understanding about what a diagnosis of depression actually means. It's been an education for me, and I feel privileged to provide some comfort to those that are suffering. Here are a few of the things I've observed, first-hand. 

First of all, depression a spectrum; not everyone suffers the same way, or to the same degree. I myself struggled with relatively mild depression on and off since childhood, but was finally able to control it with self-care, herbal medicine, and acupuncture. Others I know require more drastic means of intervention.

Second, depression is not the same as being sad. I think our collective image of a depressed person is someone who walks around looking mopey, like Eeyore from Whinnie the Pooh, casting doom and gloom wherever they go. In my own experience, people who are the most depressed are the best at hiding it – sometimes because they don’t want to burden others around them, but also because they feel that sharing is pointless because their depression is not an issue that can be fixed. I find that this is especially true for men, who are socialized to “grin and bear it” through everything or risk being seen as "weak."

Sometimes there is no “why.” As human beings, we like to place ourselves at the center of our own universe. When someone takes their own life, the people around them often want to know what they could have done, they want to know “why?” and “how could they?” The bottom line is that depression is a disease. Just like having a good job or a perfect marriage can’t cure cancer, these things can’t always “cure” clinical depression. When I was at the height of my own depression, I would try to reason with myself and say things like, “I have such a perfect life! Why do I still feel like this?” The fact that my mood responded immediately to herbs, supplements, and dietary changes made me realize that depression was just as much a product of my body as it was in my head. I’m not saying that our circumstances don’t have a role to play in how we feel – simply that it’s often more complex than circumstances alone.

All depression is treatable. This summer, I lost two people from within my circle to suicide - one of them very recently. Although I admit I didn’t know either of them well, these losses resonated with me because we were the same age, had many of the same friends and interests, and our lives were comparable in many other ways. If I could have said anything to either of them, it would have been the quote from the beginning of this post. “Where there is life, there is hope.” I believe with every fiber of my being that even the worst depression is beatable, through a combination of counseling, lifestyle changes, dietary therapy, alternative therapies like acupuncture (but of course not limited to acupuncture alone), and – in many cases – medication. Getting help for the depression is often the scariest part, because it forces us to admit that our lives have gotten to a point where we are no longer in control. It must be hard to believe that change is possible, or to summon the energy to try. Depression is a day-by-day thing that must be conquered, day by day. However, it's a journey that starts with a single step, and that step usually involves reaching out and getting help.

I should mention that I've been struggling to write this entry for over a week now. I hope it didn't come across as trite or obvious. Also, one of my favorite writings on depression actually comes from a humor blog, Hyperbole and a Half. It's so full of insight, wrapped in wacky and unique humor.

Finally, if you know someone (or are someone) who is coping with depression, I highly recommend the book "The Chemistry of Joy," by Henry Emmons. It has become the cornerstone of my approach for helping advise others regarding their own depression, and it's full of great tactics for those wanting to try an integrative approach to taking control of their mental wellness. 

5 Things My 90 Year-Old Grandmother Taught Me About Wellness

My Grandmother ("Mormor") turned 90 in March. We had a big party for her, and in her closing speech, she told us all to save the date for her 100th birthday party. She is an incredible person. I've learned a lot about living well from observing her over the years, but here are my top five.

Never slow down.
As I write this, Mormor is up at her cabin in Northern Minnesota, which is on 5 acres that she maintains herself. Okay, she doesn't do the mowing or heavy repairs, but she does pull weeds, pick up fallen branches, dig holes, and haul around the hose to water her garden. She just traveled to Sweden a few weeks ago. She doesn't let fear dictate how she spends her day. She is a busy-body, and that innate sense of purpose has served her well. She can't stand seeing people sit around.

Stay positive. My mom went skydiving on her 60th birthday, and one of the instructors offered to take Mormor up to dive with her. Mormor laughed and responded, "If you bring me up that close to heaven, you might as well keep going." The fact is, when you've lived 90 years, death becomes a part of life. Many of the people Mormor has loved have moved on (including my Morfar, her husband of over 70 years), but she accepts it as a fact of life. She seems genuinely happy for the opportunity to wake up and experience another day. I have never heard her say that she wishes the past was different, or that she is sad she has gotten old.

Eat your vegetables. From mashed potatoes to coffee cake, Mormor's meals are Swedish through-and-through, and I don't think she has never met a carb she didn't like. Coffee is served with cream (and usually some kind of dessert), wine is served with dinner (and sometimes with lunch), and it's pretty much a guarantee that there are cookies stashed somewhere in the house at all times. But there is some kind of veggie or fruit on the table at every meal, and she will not stop giving you grief until you eat an adequate amount. All of us kids can remember her insisting "It's good FOR you!" usually while shoveling more asparagus onto our plate.

Life begins and ends with the people you love. At Mormor's birthday I was completely overwhelmed by the amount of people I met. Members of her bridge club, friends from the Swedish Immigrant club, people from her Church... together with her family, it was a full house. The older we get, the easier it is to become wrapped up in our own lives, she has told me that "life is about people" and I agree. It keeps me motivated to put myself out there and say "yes" to strengthening the friendships I am blessed with, even when I feel like I'd rather just relax and watch an entire season of "Game of Thrones" instead.

Don't let obsessing about your health get in the way of celebrating life. As a wellness worker, sometimes I get downright obsessive about my health - to the point that it's unhealthy. Which supplements should I be taking? Did I get enough exercise today? Oh man, I should meditate more. Is that organic? Is my tongue pale? ...These are the thoughts that run through my mind on any given day. Mormor takes two pills a day, whereas I usually take five. She only recently started drinking water, after we told her that coffee and wine don't count. And her meditation involves pulling weeds or watching the weather channel for hours on end.

The bottom line is, there are things we can control about our health to stack the odds in our favor, but a lot of it is pure luck. Occasionally you might want to take a long bike ride and drink a green smoothie. But sometimes it's okay to stay up late and eat a slice of flourless chocolate cake in your pajamas, or order the charcuterie platter and split a glass of wine as you catch up with a dear friend. Being healthy is a blessing; being alive is a thing worth celebrating.

Mormor and I at my niece Karley's 9th Birthday Party a few weeks ago.

Full-Circle, or "This is what a healer looks like."

Since I became licensed, I've tried many "grow-your-business-by-blogging" strategies, all of which fell flat after just a handful of posts. I've learned that something as time-consuming as blogging is ultimately the easiest thing to put off if you don't enjoy doing it. So I've opted to return to a more personal approach, the original reason people created blogs - a true web log. I do love to write, and maybe you - a potential client, a close friend, a random, curious person from across the world - will enjoy reading about my observations and experiences, and that has some value - even if these posts of mine won't necessarily generate any revenue.

2014 has been a strange year. I've learned a lot about running a business and what it truly means to be a healer. I've learned that some of the oldest advice I ever received - "just be yourself" - is also some of the most important advice one could ever heed. I've accepted that I am not your conventional acupuncturist, if there is such a thing; I'm definitely not your conventional medical worker. I love science and studies and "proof," but the more I trust my intuition, the better results I seem to get. I'm starting to get comfortable with my witch-y side, truly letting myself believe that these needles, these herbs, the vibration of a tuning fork, the touch of a hand, can transform a person's experience at the deepest level. I have witnessed small miracles: a sore shoulder moving without pain, an insomniac sleeping through the night, anxiety transformed to joy... and these things keep me energized for the hard work ahead.

I own a home now. I'm married and I have a garden. I am a business owner. But there are days where I'm still compelled to be completely irresponsible, or months where I don't have enough money to buy something that I am totally convinced I need (until I realize I can't afford it, and the need sort of dissipates). I have decided that these experiences are OK - they are part of my journey. Healers aren't perfect. My image of a healer has changed so much in the last year. Back when I was in school, I used to imagine myself walking the halls of some hospital, wearing a lab coat over my business-casual attire, feeling important and respectable as I worked to single-handedly elevate the practice of acupuncture into acceptance by the medical establishment. Then I began to idealize the wise women of yesterday, pulling herbs from the soil with strong hands, lending a gentle touch to soothe a headache, always ready with the right remedy. Now I know I lie somewhere between. I am a healer right where I am. In the morning, putting on makeup in my bathroom mirror, I say to myself: this is what a healer looks like.

Healers can have weird haircuts if they darn well please.

I am a healer when I'm singing on stage, drinking at a bar, or riding bikes with my friends. I am still a healer when I'm sick myself, nursing the cold that's been going around, trying to heed the same advice I'd give my patients. It's not something that goes away when I leave the clinic. It's a part of me, and I don't have to embody any kind of stereotype to better serve my patients or attract my ideal client.

So that's it - that's my declaration. I always feel vaguely guilty when I write an entire blog post about myself. But as I return to the world of the Web Log I feel compelled to set the record straight. And for all those wellness workers, coaches, therapists, bodyworkers out there who still feel like impostors (and face it, we all do sometimes) - look at yourself and say, "THIS is what a healer looks like."

Thoreau Was Right

This past weekend, some friends and I took a trip to Snowshoe Country Lodges up near Isabella, MN, not far from The Boundary Waters. On what was supposed to be THE coldest day of the winter so far, we had chosen to pay our hard-earned money to stay in a cabin heated only with a wood stove, with no running water or toilets, out in the middle of wolf country. We had basically agreed to exchange our creature comforts for easy access to all the breath-taking beauty of the Northwoods in the dead of winter. This was a totally new experience for me.

This picture was taken by Ron, the proprietor, after a recent snowstorm up in Snowshoe Country

"Most of the luxuries and many of the so-called comforts of life are not only not indispensable, but are positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind." - Henry David Thoreau

These are the words that kept running through my head as I took my turn pumping water for the wood-fired sauna, watching the rusty water fill the old pail in spurts. I wasn't the least bit cold, even though someone had mentioned that the high for the day was a meager 3 degrees above zero, and as I watched my breath stream from my nose and mouth I took a moment to fully appreciate my body's ability to warm itself, provided one dressed in the proper layers. As I struggled to carry the splashing bucket to the sauna, everything around me seemed crystal-clear, and I noticed that the sound of my internal monologue, that silent voice that runs my life, was oddly silent. For that moment I could truly understand what it meant to be fully present. Even though the task wasn't exactly fun - carrying a heavy bucket of well-water up a slippery slope - my mind was experiencing the peace of being fully occupied.

It's strange that, in a weekend so full of fun with friends and new experiences, one of my favorite memories involved carrying a bucket of water.

It is strange to me how much effort we make to limit our exposure to nature in its truest forms. We crank up the heat so we can lounge around the house in our summer clothes while it blizzards outside. We take for granted that hot water will come out of our taps, and that drains and pipes will carry away our dirty water to some unknown place. We rush from our door to our car in high-heels and curse the winter when we step in a puddle of slush.

Every year I hear the exact same complaint from virtually everyone: "I hate winter! Why can't it be over?" I think we need to change our approach. It's not the winter that needs to change, it's how we adapt to it -- or don't. According to Chinese medicine, disease is our failure to be able to adapt or cope with the rigors of our environment. Trying to live the same way we do during the summer is ultimately what causes winter to seem so horrible. After this weekend, I have witnessed how beautiful winter can be when one takes the time to dress appropriately and accept that yes, there will be snow and yes, it will be cold. Living in cooperation with the environment brings so much more peace and joy than struggling against it.

Part of me loves indoor plumbing all the more now because I have gone a weekend without it. But a larger part of me grieves for all that we have sacrificed for our "creature comforts." To sit on a frozen lake and watch the sun set in a still, clear sky is infinitely more profound and nourishing to the soul than to sit on a couch in a warm room and watch reruns of Family Guy.

In the coming year, I want to do all I can to keep the spirit of our winter weekend alive. I want to identify the "luxuries and so-called comforts of life" that hinder my path to peace.

With the news that Comcast and NBC have gone through with their merger, television seems like a good place to start...

The Wacky World of Wedding Planning

I wish I could tell you that I am using my wedding as an opportunity to express my newfound passion for wabi-sabi ideals and my desire to "transcend to simplicity," but I have fallen -- wholly, completely -- into the frilly morass of frivolity created by the wedding industry. At any given time, I am daydreaming about table linens, place settings, lighting, flowers... and all kinds of other things it wouldn't even occur to me to think about under normal circumstances. I'm convinced that all of the eye-catching tableaus on wedding websites are doing for my wedding the same thing fashion magazines do to my body image -- they ultimately convince me that what I thought was good enough is, in fact, not, and that it is perfectly acceptable to lust after things I can't afford and don't need. Try as I might to be rational about things, I just can't seem to get past this idea that things should be "perfect."

Starring me.

Now, maybe I should take a moment to define my concept of "perfect." Perfect is not the slick, mass-produced wedding of "Brides" magazine. Perfect is a wedding in which every detail truly represents Travis and I as a couple. I want our guests to have a sense that they have entered our world for an afternoon. I want everything to be unique to us, to have some sort of special meaning.

Beauty is in the (expensive) details. Six napkins for $36! That's only $9K for all the wedding guests! Worth it.

This goal, however, is neither cheap nor easy. Suddenly a napkin ring is not just a napkin ring. It is an opportunity for self-expression that must not be overlooked! No basic circle of paper or plastic will do. So I search online for pictures of napkin rings to get inspired, and inevitably find something that (a) is irrationally expensive, or (b) would take countless hours of labor to make. The intellectual part of my brain recognizes that napkin rings are yet another relatively pointless detail in a myriad of pointless details on what is essentially just one day out of my life, but I have now seen the cute napkin rings and will not be satisfied unless I find a way to have what I want.

This is just an example. I haven't actually fretted about napkin rings - yet. But this is the basic outline of the scenario that has repeated itself several times over the past few months. I find that this line of thinking is not bringing me any closer to having the wedding of my dreams; it is in fact steering me down a dark and expensive path that is starkly opposed to how Travis and I live our lives. And yet, it is so hard to turn back now.

A breath of fresh air: handmade wildflower bouquet

In her amazing blog called the 2,000 Dollar Wedding, the bride/blogger stresses the importance of outlining the primary goals of the wedding and returning to these goals frequently in order to stay grounded and be reminded of what is important versus what is not. Napkin rings, linens, etc. etc. will not define the day. Here's a great quote from an entry she recently posted:

"I do think ... that the Wedding Industrial Complex is a dangerous cultural entity that has the power to distract us from the significance and importance of planning a major life event. In my mind, it's a zero-sum game: The more time we spend thinking about the calligraphy and the custom monogram and the metallic color palette, the less time we have to think about how to strengthen our partnerships, to reflect on the enormity of the commitment we are about to make, and to maintain all the aspects of our lives that are totally unrelated to our weddings."

So I'm making a vow to you readers. I will focus my energy into the following areas. And if I find that something I'm stressing out about does not fit, I will stop stressing. Period.

The Pagan tradition of "handfasting" represents being bound together in the eyes of the community

1. The wedding ceremony is about uniting in front of the community we have created and asking the people we love to recognize and support our decision to start our lives together.

2. While the ceremony will primarily be about us, the reception is our opportunity to show our appreciation to our friends and family. We want everyone to feel loved and included, and that their presence specifically is important to us.

3. The details should reflect the things that are important to us: sustainability, ingenuity, the beauty of nature, and the importance of stories, music, and imagination.

We'll see how all this pans out!

A Very Wabi-Sabi Christmas

So I haven't blogged in a while. My lack of a camera is partially to blame, combined with a complete lack of focus, blog-wise. I think the biggest problem is that my blog, as a true reflection of me, is prone to run off in all directions, down every rabbit hole in pursuit of strange interests, obscure facts, and forgotten crafts. I have a collection of unfinished blog entries about coracle-building (see picture below), cooking with beans, and mead-making, just to name a few.

A coracle: Is it a boat? Is it a basket? Answer: it's both!

So I'd been taking some time off from blogging to wait for a theme to come to me, when my friends turned me on to the Japanese aesthetic philosophy of Wabi-Sabi. When I first heard someone make reference to it, I assumed they were talking about a Japanese cowboy, or mispronouncing "wasabi." Then I took the time to look it up online and found this wonderful essay from the annuls of the Internet, posted ages ago by who-knows-who, on a website called NobleHarbor.com. I don't know who to attribute it to, but here's the introduction:

"Pared down to its barest essence, wabi-sabi is the Japanese art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in nature, of accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay, and death. It's simple, slow, and uncluttered-and it reveres authenticity above all. Wabi-sabi is flea markets, not warehouse stores; aged wood, not Pergo; rice paper, not glass. It celebrates cracks and crevices and all the other marks that time, weather, and loving use leave behind. It reminds us that we are all but transient beings on this planet-that our bodies as well as the material world around us are in the process of returning to the dust from which we came."

Wabi-sabi pottery. The pots' flaws reflect the unique character of the craftsman and the process of their construction.

This may sound a little bleak to some. As Americans steeped in a culture that celebrates youth and newness and all things cutting-edge, we don't often like to be reminded of "the natural cycle of growth, decay, and death." Yet, it is this process that has fascinated me even since my teen years (admittedly, I was slightly goth), when I first discovered Zen Buddhism and began my search for a spiritual discipline that I could identify with. Years later, I'm still searching - but at the heart of my daily striving is the practice of mindfulness, or a constant, wakeful awareness of what I am doing at any given moment. Through mindfulness we develop a deep appreciation for the here-and-now, for in each moment lies the seed of our future activities and the fruit of our past actions. I am sitting in school because a thousand small choices led me here, and because I am sitting in school, someday I will be treating patients (I hope). We see the origin of our choices, our growth, and even our eventual decay and death. It may sound morbid, but it's not: because we will die someday, we are motivated to savor and celebrate every moment of our lives. We make the decision to be happy now.

Ikebana - the Japanese practice of floral arrangement - strives to recreate the accidental symmetry and balance of nature.

On Wikipedia's page about wabi-sabi, I found this great phrase that came to me like a revelation -- the theme for my blog. "Wabi-sabi represents liberation from a material world and transcendence to a simpler life." I LOVE that phrase: "transcendence to a simpler life." In this country, we tend to accumulate more and more baggage as we age: debt, material stuff, and our own stereotypes about the world. Wabi-sabi is about recognizing that, indeed, we cannot bring these things with us into the next life, and that all of the crap we gather around us are merely borrowed and will eventually pass into others' hands. We may keep only our experiences, and even those will die with us -- unless we share them with others.

So this blog is about my attempts to transcend into a simpler life. It's about becoming rich with experiences while finding ways to be more frugal in the material sense. It's about creating objects by hand and being present for their conception, their use, and eventually their decay. While Zen is often thought to condemn attachment to any kind of material objects, wabi-sabi expresses "...the idea that being surrounded by natural, changing, unique objects helps us connect to our real world and escape potentially stressful distractions." (Wikipedia). Food can be applied to wabi-sabi, too -- wabi-sabi is slow food, grown with love and cooked with care so we may recognize and respect the cycles of growth and death that continue to sustain us. And it's about sharing my thoughts and experiences with others so that any useful bits of knowledge I come across may serve as seeds for ideas and take on new life in the minds of others.

This Christmas, I'm celebrating wabi-sabi by making my own gifts by hand whenever possible or shopping on etsy.com. I'm striving to give objects with their own unique history that will age gracefully and be treasured for years to come. Let me just say, it's incredibly difficult to think of a wabi-sabi gift for a ten year old boy, but gift-giving should be a challenge -- and I don't mean challenging in the sense that you should have to knock down other shoppers at the entrance of Walmart on Black Friday, but a challenge to find something that will truly be loved by the receiver.

Crocheted wabi-sabi mitts, made for a very special someone!