Giving thanks in tough times

"May you live in fascinating times" is an old curse; the logic being if one chronicles history, "fascinating times" were jam-packed with upheaval. Turbulent, troublesome, frightening, epoch-making periods; anyone experiencing them would be upset, frightened, and anxious.

I point this out because, with the way the world is, one might make a case that we are currently experiencing "fascinating times," and that future historians will find the initial piece of the 21st century to be chock-full of tumult, worthy of study for generations yet to come. For them, that may be well and good, yet for us in the present, I don't think I stand alone when I pray we figure out soon how to get along a little better.

Giving thanks in such chaotic times is not simple. It feels difficult and trivial to find positives when all around seems urgent. However, to do so, requires a refocus on what one has, rather than a sadness of the way it is not. Saying "Thank you," lightens the heart, and loosens life's burdens - if only for a moment, making living worthwhile. Now, more than ever, it is essential to express gratitude for what one has. We are still blessed in many ways.

I can be thankful to sit at a table with family and friends, sharing food, conversation, and stories. We will laugh at where we have been, even if we disagree about where we are headed. We are not a perfect family unit; but we are what we are. I give thanks, and send a prayer to those less well off.

I am grateful to live where I do. Sure, I complain about excess rain and a hidden sun. I lament the dreary fog in the morning, and the wind in the afternoon. Yet, on the grand perspective, this patch of Mother Earth is no less than stunning. Endless forests of trees on majestic mountains caress the heavens; rushing, raging, rivers cut through strong stone canyons in their never ending race to become part of a breathtaking vista of world's greatest ocean. I reside in a postcard photograph; is that cool or what?

Contrary to how I was raised, I taught my children, "Do what you love, the money will follow." Although it took me four decades to heed my own advice, it has worked out and I am uplifted by what I do. While others never leave a squalid village, and have no hope, I have traveled far, seen much, and spoken to many. I am again grateful.

I am not alone, residing in a community, a true enclave of people who greet me with handshakes and "hellos." We still ask about each other's children. We share personal successes and setbacks. I have no interest in living elsewhere; I am gratified to be where I am.

My story is different than yours; each of us travels his own path. However, it is my purest intent that in my appreciation, I kindle within you a smile or joyful thought that you will share with others, lightening your day and theirs.

Saying thank you might not change a life. However, it sure won't hurt.

A lucky man

There is a fable whereby God gives each person the option to rid himself of his most pressing difficulty. Everyone places his or her problems in the center of a circle. In turn, each then inspects the travails and challenges of the others, and chooses what he or she would prefer. As the fable goes, everyone opts for his own problem. Human nature is to always consider oneself less fortunate than others - until presented with reality.

Michael J. Fox considers himself to be a "lucky man." As I watched him on TV try to contain uncontrollable tremors and twitches inflicted by Parkinson's disease, I was astonished - and awed - to hear him describe himself as "fortunate." He admits he would not have opted for this disease; yet as long as it is his path, he feels it is a gift because he's able to help others.

Shall we compare? Fox describes Parkinson's as "a gift;" I complain when I have to say "no" to a second scoop of ice cream. Maybe rethinking my position is in order.

Since I was a young overweight lad, I cannot remember when I did not complain about having to watch what I eat. While other children gorged themselves on potato chips, soft drinks, and chocolate fudge bars, my mother filled me with non-fat milk, fruit, and grilled chicken.

As a small boy stomping his feet in the midst of a tantrum, I would rail against the wrongness of the universe. "It's not fair!" I yelled. "Richard and Nancy are going to get ice cream. I want to go too!"

In those early years, I could not know the pain my mother felt as she was compelled to hold back her son from the experience of his peers so he could learn much-needed healthier habits. Lovingly, she would reply, "You're right; it's not fair. But Richard and Nancy don't have to watch their weight. You need to eat more carefully than they do."

I grew resentful over time: wounded by the loneliness felt only by the unattractive, angry over diets that promised but never delivered, insulted and beaten down by boorish comments poking fun of my size. Why did God condemn me?

Michael J. Fox - with Parkinson's - considers his disease a gift. I have an outburst over having to eat low-fat cheese. I'm thinking I just might need to "get over myself."

I "suffer" from a disease of abundance. While half the planet's population goes without, I must cut back. I must count calories in a world one person out of two prays not to go to sleep hungry.

If we were to put my problem in the circle, I think I'd take it back.

More times than not

Over several strong, black, cups of steaming coffee, we thrashed out matters of vital import. We agreed that if we ruled the world, it would operate quite differently; we were of one mind that aging enhances our best relationships. Then, came the mother of all questions: "How does one determine if ours was a 'Good Life' when time's up?"

That is probably a conclusion left to one infinitely wiser than two middle-aged mortals. Nonetheless, by unanimous consent, we established that if - in those final moments - the "ups" count higher than the "downs," the "happys" are more numerous than the "sads," indeed Life was good. In simple parlance, it's a "more-times-than-not thing," not a "100% thing."

Merely speculation, I am quick to admit; albeit it brings to me a sense of peace in present days. Oh yes, we also pledged that whomever gets to the other side first informs the other if we're correct. (And, dear reader - because I like you - I promise to publish it here if possible.)

Scene change: fast forward to present time.

I find myself - yet again - having to "get my act together" to repair damage I inflicted on my weight loss goals.

Throughout the entirety of Thanksgiving Day, I held myself back from cold turkey, mayonnaise sandwiches and manhole size servings of pumpkin pie. I was noble.

The day after? Well, that's a different story.

It began, as always, with a nibble here, a bite there. Not being a middle-of-the-road kind of guy however, I quickly reach a point where I decide, "as long as I blew it, I might as well REALLY blow it," and jump headlong over the cliff. History ignored is history repeated; here I stand again. You'd think after five decades, I'd have this figured out.

Yet... maybe I have.

If the key to a good life is "more-times-than-not," it stands to reason that success is "more-forward-than-backward." Peering though too constricted a window of time, perspective is distorted, all one sees is flaws and failures. Stepping back, a more accurate image comes into focus: habit change is indeed a "more-times-than-not thing," not a "100% thing." It is, after all, a fragment of Life.

It was a rough day, and I did set myself back. Today, however, has been great. I'm moving forward again.

You know, I just might yet get there.

The eating season

Dangerous days for dedicated, disciplined, dieters have descended. We now thunder headlong into an unending haze of fudge mints, eggnog lattes, and walnut cranberry honey stuffing. Activity and exercise levels, formerly consisting of lengthy walks through the trees and afternoons of yard work, plummet to gluteus-maximizing extended sessions plopped on the couch, watching television - a pyramid of cold mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce ever at the ready on the overflowing coffee table.

Some believe the "eating season" (as it should formally be named) begins in late November. In fact, as reliably as the annual return of the swallows to Capistrano, it opens with the first sighting of holiday ornaments in greeting-card stores, a much-heralded occurrence starting earlier each year. One day I'm dedicated to following my program. Twenty-four hours hence, holiday angels and cute ceramic teddy bears hanging from twinkling window displays pronounce, "Cast your waist to the wind. The holidays are here. Diet in January."

The zenith of this landscape of non-stop in(di)gestion is Thanksgiving.

With platters of sumptuous food extending beyond the horizon, this is the single celebration forcing dieters to dress appropriately. Oh sure, "Don we now our gay apparel" applies to holiday finery on Christmas; but Thanksgiving - being also a test of endurance - requires shrewd planning. In the same manner that one would not run a marathon in a sequin-covered ball gown, it would be folly to attempt Thanksgiving's feasting in street apparel.

The following advice is for professional eaters only; do not attempt without supervision.

Be meticulous about choosing expandable outfits for that day, preferably sans belt; soft, non-binding, elastic is my preference. Sweat pants, over-sized shirts, and large loose dresses are prized. (I have even considered wearing a Hawaiian MuMu but it clashes with my shoes.) As practiced athletes, pace caloric intake, starting cautiously before noon, careful not to peak too early, lest three cold-turkey-mashed-potato sandwiches, and half a pecan pie go uneaten before bedtime.

Staying conscious with so much food is indeed a challenge.

Yet, seriously, do remember that millions sleep on empty stomachs. Our unrelenting nag of dieting could be portrayed as a "curse of prosperity." While too many starve, we are so fortunate - so our concern is learning to consume less.

Stay aware about much you eat on Thanksgiving. Be thankful that you must.

For an article on handling holiday eating, follow this link.
For an article on handling holiday stress, follow this link.

About the author: Scott "Q" Marcus, THINspirational speaker and author. Since losing 70 pounds 12 years ago, he conducts speeches, workshops, and presentations throughout the country. His book is available at www.TheEatingCycle.com and he can be reached at scottq@scottqmarcus.com or 707.442.6243.