Coming off a Cleanse

Richard and I are in Indiana visiting my sister for Thanksgiving, connecting with our Midwestern roots (I’m a born and bred Hoosier and Richard grew up in Illinois) while feeling the New England tug on our hearts. Vermont travels with us wherever we go with thoughts of the hills, the pond, our chickens, cats, and geese. Oh God, we’re hobby farmers.

We just came off a 9-day cleanse, something we had been talking about doing off and on over the past few months and suddenly, without much forethought, we saw an opportunity to squeeze it in right before the “season of gluttony” officially begins. I’m being a bit harsh and judgmental there for Thanksgiving is my favorite of all holidays, Richard’s too. This year we’re spending it around family, a rare occurence for both of us. I have a feeling that goes against the norm for most Americans, but for me it has fit well with the nomadic lifestyle of an actor where each year I get to gather a family of friends around me with whom I choose to share this day of gratitude. That said, it’s good coming at the holiday in a different way this year. We’re enjoying it. After a day of travel, we’re at my sister’s house by ourselves today, making the very beginning motions of preparation for Thursday. It’s laid back and meshes perfectly with the grey November day outside.

But back to the 9-day cleanse. For the most part it was a breeze, save for the first 2 days when withdrawl short circuit jolts your system, not only the literal withdrawl from things like sugar and caffeine, but withdrawl from ritualizing everything to do with food, from having your day built around the preparation and eating of meals, from the world itself. Then you settle in to the world of cleanse and everything looks and feels different, slightly heightened, a bit dreamlike and woozy, and you feel more yourself, let loose from the roller coaster spell of sugar and caffeine highs and lows replaced by a steady and sure energy. And a voice inside whispers “Oh, so this is how I’m supposed to be eating; oh, these are the portions I’m truly hungry for; oh, this is the weight I should be; oh, this is the way my face, skin, eyes should look; etc, etc, etc.” You feel HEALTHY, resilient, spry, renewed, reborn, grateful. Seeing your face emerge out of baby fat, watching your belt hitch in another notch, space appearing in pant’s waistlines. This isa good thing. Good cleanse, nice cleanse. Thanks you, cleanse.

And then the cleanse ends.

And you return to the world, the world of eating. And it feels as if you’ve been gone a looooonnnnnnng time. Culture shock. “Now how do I do this again? How do I keep what I have and incorporate food back in? “ For instance, coffee. I love coffee (I think). I know it’s a bit of an addiction, I know it can get out of hand, but ooooooh I love it. And yes, I could easily replace the word “love” in that last sentence with the words, “crave,” “jones,” “itch for,” “could kill for,” etc , but …. well, no buts, there you have it. During the cleanse, after the first 2 days of withdrawl, Richard and I were quite content drinking non-caffeinated tea, surprisingly so. It was warming, satisfying and delicious, especially with a spoon full of New Hampshire maple syrup to sweeten it. Yum. So yesterday was the first cup o joe for a while. And it was good. Just one tall cup midday instead of what had been the norm before the cleanse – a goodly amount on rising and another pick me up around 4. This morning though, I mildly resented the cup of coffee I had. It was tasty, yes, hit the spot, good to the last drop and all that, but I didn’t like what it did to me. It jacked me up, made me slightly edgy and irritable, and I knew the energy wasn’t me, not the pure me I’d spent some good quality time with over the past few days. And I have a feeling I’m on the edge of border crossing. Now is my time to either stay in that country of me or go back into the country of coffee where I’m slightly, ever so slightly an automaton, slightly, ever so slightly at the mercy and whim of a stimulant, as if I’m lacking something in myself to stimulate me, as if I NEED it. A cleansing thought. No resolution yet. I’ll keep you updated.

Other cleansing thoughts? Well, it was uncanny how many parallel cleansing activities cropped up during this past week, activities like finishing incomplete chores and jobs around the house and homestead, ridding files of old papers, talking about old issues that may still be barnacleing on to our spirit whether they regarded issues between ourselves or friends and family. Very cleansing. After all these are the days to slow down, to hunker down, hibernate. When I was growing up or in times past, there was an acceleration around this holiday time of year, a beginning of a frantic, obligatory rush, breathless pace, back and forth, “only 30 shopping days left!” scream of activity that I think goes against the grain of what is naturally supposed to be happening this time of year. It feels so right in Vermont, close to the cycles of nature, to take your clues and cues by just looking outside. Energy is being pulled in, green is gone until next spring, time to cut back, mulch, cover up, wrap up, conserve, wrap up, warmth is within not out. This is the time for some quiet time, for some contemplation, to lay seeds for next year, to plant ideas. To cleanse.

Or not.

One more cleansing thought. Our pond is back brimful and sloshing over the spillway down a channel to our neighbor’s pond a quarter mile away. It’s miraculous how quickly it filled back up after the end of our excavation work 3 short weeks ago. The water is clear and pure and the geese are having a ball swimming in it each day, a last burst of freedom before the temperatures freeze it over. How wonderful. And the reflection of the tall trees and sky on its surface makes you feel as if you have double the blessings. Two skies for one, one below and one above; sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which, especially in pictures. That’s how I feel living in Vermont much of the time. Wondering what’s real, what’s not. Feeling this steady, sure, easy and natural happiness. A newness. A buoyancy. A withdrawl from the world to discover my true energy. That’s call for true Thanksgiving.

And that said, I have to end this installment with one of my favorite last lines of any movie. It’s “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” and in the final scene the title character, a young girl, newly graduated from high school, stands on her rooftop in turn of the last century Brooklyn with her younger brother, played by a tough young actor resembling Leo Gorcey of the Bowery Boys. She is rhapsodizing about life and love and marveling at how everything is turning out well and she turns to her brother and says “I love you” to which he replies: “Ahh, cut the mush.”

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.