Yet all little worlds have their own languages. They have slogans and catchphrases. Ways of speaking, which stem from and lead to ways of thinking and being. It's semiotics 101. We create meaning with language.
My first time in a meeting, I noticed there was jargon. People don't lose weight, they "release" it. The meetings are called "the rooms."
Now I'm learning the language. And I'm surprising myself, because I actually like it, and find all sorts of intelligence and wisdom in it. For example, if you lose something, you might find it. That applies to 10 pounds, or 100, or more. But If you release something, you let it go. It's not just weight one can release. It's character defects and nasty habits and your deepest, darkest fears.
I Love These Slogans
Me! A writer! A word snob! I never thought I'd say "love" and "slogan" in the same sentence. Slogans are supposed to me cheesy and empty.
Maybe these are cliches, but the world's great cliches got that way for a reason. And they're the opposite of empty-- they're bursting with meaning and possibility and depth! They're beautifully pregnant!
- Let go and let God (so much easier said than done for a control freak like me. But I know relinquishing control is one of my Big and Important Life Lessons)
- When I slip up, my sponsor says, "Face it, trace it, erase it, replace it." That is, with something better. Genius.
- Progress not perfection. This is great for a bona fide perfectionist.
- When I'm wallowing in indecision (usually about the tiniest, silliest of things): Do the next right thing. We can control only our actions, not the outcome. No use worrying about what's out of our control. And we all have
- Smart feet to use when our minds are frantic, or hearts heavy. Smart feet to take you to the right place. My smart feet got me to recovery, and through my beautiful, messy life thus far...and who knows where they'll take me next.
On a Different Note:
I Have New Hair!
Maybe it was the breakup, or embarking on recovery, or the change of seasons, but I've been craving a change. Hair is instant, painless gratification. If I fuck it up, it'll grow back.
The last time I felt this way, I was 14 and moving from Baltimore to Princeton. I cut all all all of my hair off, and died it sort of reddish. I felt fabulous. It was surely a statement; I was the only girl in high school who could no way in hell wear a ponytail.
Since then, I've been slowly and surely growing it out. And 14 was the last die job. The result: long, long, brown, brown hair:
I thought highlights would be good middle ground. A change, but nothing irrevocable or crazy. Unlike going platinum blonde (I gave it thought), a little highlighting action doesn't require constant maintenance. That's good, I'm pretty lazy when it comes to hair.
So I took myself to a fancy salon, and they did this to me:
|Highlights suggestion: bring a good book!|
|Lighter and brighter!|
This was last night, and I'm still doing a small double take when I pass mirrors. Not used to seeing this color on top of my head. It's sunny and I'm into it.
Also these last two pics are without makeup. I'm having more naked face days. Just an experiment, part of being genuine and figuring out my style and myself.
Today I'm going ice skating!
Love and winter sunshine,