Heroes & Supporting Characters

My husband Kevin and I recently finished watching the series Game of Thrones (I know, I’m late to the party). It was a really slow burn for me at first, since I am very resistant to horror, gore, war, and general themes of evil in my entertainment choices. We started the show back in 2018, and got side tracked when we moved (and I needed an emotional breather from the oftentimes anxiety-producing episodes that left me reeling). 

After a few years of recovery (lol), I finally felt ready to embark on the GOT cinematic journey again in the last few months. We picked up with some revisiting of storylines and themes, and then flew through the final three seasons. 

I won’t say I loved it all. There were actually moments where I felt so utterly overwhelmed emotionally, with tears streaming down my face and gut clenching, that I literally had to leave the room. (Watching emotive theatrics with an Empath is a whole experience in itself.) I would end an evening feeling shaken, anxious, excited, and completely affixed all at once. If you’ve seen the series – you know what I mean. 

But at the end, which I was bracing for with lots of tittering and warnings that the ending shocked and horrified many, I felt… surprisingly at ease.

Suddenly, everything fell into place. The themes that had been background became foreground. Characters I couldn’t quite settle in my mind became key players in the arcs. It all made sense. I’ve been sitting with the series resolution and rehashing parts as they relate to me, and my human experiences in my own story.

There are a few players whose purpose doesn’t really stand out until the very last season. They flit in and out of episodes for brief interludes. And then you see it. You see that they were key in the stories of the heroes – the ones who “save the day” in some way through the narrative. But you didn’t give them much thought through the series. 

They’re hero-supporters. They are key. And it didn’t make sense and now it does.

I feel like in many ways, as people we try to avoid being “supporting characters” and instead be our own “heroes” in our stories. Remember the line from the cheesy romcom – The Holiday?

“Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason, you’re behaving like the best friend.”

The Holiday

I love the sentiment in this quote, but I think it’s easy to get caught up in our own egos about what it means to be the “Leading Lady” (or Hero). 

I’ve been thinking about this through the lens of my ego lately. The things that I saw myself doing when I was young. Achievement. Success. Changing The World. Making A Difference. Chasing My Dreams. Empowering Others. 

All the Big Things (capital B capital T). 

I thought that once I hit my stride in adulthood, you know – at like 25 years old – my story would fall into place, and suddenly make sense… I would understand my grand purpose and the hero-arc I’m meant to fulfill in the World… (or some maybe less grandiose, but still ego-centric lens).

And really – we all have this to some extent. We long to make waves. To create something amazing, to help the planet in some way, to cure cancer, to make a ton of money and leave a legacy for our children and grandchildren. But what I’m seeing more clearly lately is how not everyone is destined to be the “Leading Lady” or “Hero” in the whole series. Some of us are meant to be key supporting players in the richness and complexity of the story-arc of our brief blip on this floating rock. We are critical and meaningful in this way.

A way in which I’m seeing this play out in my own life and story-arc: singing. I always LOVED to sing. Even when I had no clue how to. I longed to be a back-up singer (ironically) to a famous star on stage. To be able to travel and sing and dance and have people cheering, but not have the stress of the limelight shone upon me in every angle. Eventually, from this childhood dream grew a love of classical singing, choral, and opera. I wanted to be THE BEST… I wanted to sing Opera. Or be in musicals. To travel and create and perform.

Instead, I did none of those things. I sang in college, and then started out of college as a baby-teacher trying to get a voice studio off the ground so I could keep music in my life. Thirteen years later, it’s more than just a little hustle for me – I keep as many students as I can in my roster, while still prioritizing my family boundaries, and I find healthy part-time employment and creative satisfaction in sharing my passion with youth. 

I’m not a “Leading Lady” star in music. I never will be. But I might be a supporting character in helping another person shine in the way she was destined. I may make a difference – even in the small sliver of time we work together through her school years. I might just plant a seed that helps another do something Great – even if it’s in the way my own teacher planted seeds for me to carry on her passion. 

A friend recently called me the “Queen of Balance”  when I was feeling low and playing the comparison-game of myself to others. 

It struck me that this truly is one of the truest depictions of my ‘superpower’ as a nearly-middle-aged adult. I have many roles, but principally I aim to find balance in the ways I earn a living, prioritize my family, grow emotionally and spiritually, and give of myself in supportive and meaningful ways. 

I may not be slaying dragons, killing Night Kings, saving the world, or singing with the Metropolitan Opera… but I am showing up each day to play my supporting part in your life – and my own – from a place of love, sincerity, and openhearted spirit. 

Love and peace to you all, my friends. 

What to do when your partner or family eat differently

 

Over three years ago, I started transitioning to a healthier diet and lifestyle. This was my choice–  it wasn’t a decision made in tandem with Paul. I told him things were changing, and I was going to start cooking healthier meals, and then I did. Thankfully, Paul was quite supportive and went along with the flow as I flopped through some pretty mediocre meals to start. But gradually, as my confidence grew in the kitchen, my cooking improved, and Paul had very few complaints. Occasionally, he would buy some junk food I didn’t want in the house, or make brownies when I did NOT want them around, but overall he was really supportive.

Things were a little trickier when I made the shift to a vegetarian diet. We had some pretty heart-to-heart conversations about what it would mean in our home, and though it was hard initially, things got easier with time and practice. Again, it was a transition time with food, trying lots of new types of meals and omitting the old basics. Now, having transitioned yet again to a vegan diet, Paul has been on board with the changes. Although he does not consider himself vegan and will still occasionally eat animal products, he does primarily eat plant-based and has no problem with it in the home.

That being said, it was a lot about communication, honesty, compromise, assertion, and willingness to respect each other through the process. It wasn’t just a “snap of the fingers” and everything is easy peasy. 

Any change you make in diet or lifestyle is going to affect your loved ones. Spouse, partner, children, and even extended family will notice a difference in you — both in what you’re physically choosing to put into your body and how you THINK. (The “how you think” change is, I’d say, the most challenging for others to adapt to.) Like it or not, there will be challenges associated with the change, particularly if you are lacking the support from those with whom you live. Since every relationship and family dynamic is unique, there is no “one size fits all” nugget of advice that works across the board in dealing with this challenge. But today, I wanted to offer a few thoughts on how to deal with differing views on diet in your household.

Today’s vlog topic comes from Jackie, who asked, “How do you create balance in a home where you have different eating preferences?”

Thanks for the question, Jackie! I hope this vlog is helpful.

How do YOU personally work to create balance when your family isn’t so keen on changing? Do you have any additional words of wisdom to share? Please do so below!

What should I talk about next week? Pick my brain! Comment below.

First Video Blog (Vlog) – Health Coaching Principles

 

Greetings, friends!

Today, I got a wild hair and decided to try something new (well, newish for me): a video blog! I used to post an occasional vlog on SparkPeople when I was blogging regularly there, and would now like to get back in a routine of doing vlogs and blogs here on my own website. Sometimes it’s just better to hear things face-to-face, ya know?

My hope with these vlogs is to help generate conversation, and give you an opportunity to ask questions and possibly get them answered by me! I work on lots of different concepts with my clients, and would love to give you a little glimpse of what it would be like to work with me as a client.

In today’s vlog, I talk about my guiding principles in health coaching — the basic philosophies I have while working with clients toward healthy lifestyle changes. I hope you find it interesting, and that it gives you a better insight into what health coaching entails.

I would love to hear your thoughts, feedback, and questions in my comments below! Do you agree with my principles? 

What would you like me to talk about next week? Any burning questions you’d like me to share my thoughts on? Ask away, and I’ll choose one to answer in my next vlog!

My Journey to Compassionate Living: A Tribute to Animals

PLEASE NOTE: This blog/essay is a therapeutic reflection on the soulful and mindful changes I’ve experienced over the past year and a half. It is not meant to be offensive or preachy, not intended to spark anger or arguments, but rather meant to express the questions and realizations I’ve been dealing with in a level, articulate way. Writing is soothing for me, and I’ve been longing to get these thoughts down for some time now. If you feel you will be angered or offended by my discussion of my choice to go vegan, please abstain from reading. This is not a discussion of what it means for YOU, but rather a reflection of what living compassionately means for ME. What it means for me cannot be argued. If you’d like to come with me to journey through the questions I’ve asked myself, and are open to asking questions of yourself, please read on. I’m happy to participate in a non-judgmental, open and honest discussion if anyone wishes to ask questions. I do not wish to start a war or argument. Thank you for being respectful!

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Every morning, I wake up to the few soft mews of my giant, fluffy and handsome cat Oliver, coaxing me awake. He paws over the terrain of blankets and pillows to position himself on my chest (sometimes my head) and promptly begin a rumbling purr.  Kneading his big soft paws into my throat, I have no choice but to acknowledge him, greet the day and spend several minutes lovingly stroking his silky coat.

Once out of bed, my cottony and gorgeous cat Nina heralds me that it’s time to be fed. She dances around lightly on her white paws, and won’t let me love her up until duties have been taken care of. Her loud meow and sassy swishing of her tail let me know that her needs must be met promptly. She is a queenly and demanding girl.

Slippers on, jacket zipped over pajamas, I return to the bedroom to greet my anxious puppy in her kennel at the foot of my bed. She’s been waiting patiently for me to return and let her out to start the day. Upon my greeting her, Elenore begins wagging her tail rapidly and wiggling around, pawing at the crate door. I sit on the floor and let her out, and after a biiiiiiiiig downward doggie-stretch, she drunkenly hobbles out of her kennel and collapses into my lap. The silly girl makes snorting and whimpering sounds, little puppy murmurs of love, while mauling my arms, my legs, and flicking light kisses up to my nose. She snorts around my ears, and then bites my earlobe, gently suckling as if to say, “I love you, mama!” After our love-fest on the floor, with lots of petting and nuzzling, she follows me straight to the door and we head outside for her morning chores.

My animals mean the world to me. Each day starts brightly because of them, and each time I enter our home I’m greeted with their presence. For me, being in the presence of animals is a magical and humbling experience. It reminds me of how alike we all are in this world, how they too experience emotions and communicate not only with each other but between species and to us human animals. Their personalities amaze and delight me, and I marvel at how they grow and change, how they express love and hurt. We are not so different.

I have always considered myself an “animal lover.” From the natural inclination toward compassion as a child, up through delighting in witnessing animals around me and in nature as an adult, I’ve always been tender toward and fascinated by them. Growing up, we always had pets. I liked to refer to them as the “family pack,” generally filled with a menagerie of shelter-pets: dogs, cats, rabbits, rats, and/or hamsters. Though I grew up in a city, I was always in awe when we’d visit my aunt’s farm. I would go over to where the cows were penned and reach out to stroke their noses, feeling solemn over their captivity in a muddy rink.

I remember my delight as a child when a robin built her nest in a wreath on the front porch. I was so excited to see little blue eggs in the nest and be able to witness– up close and personal—as the robin flew back and forth right at eye level. I remember when, to my horror and dismay, my parent decided the nest was too messy (and the droppings, particularly) and tossed it out. I cried and cried over the little nest and the little blue eggs.

Occasionally in my childhood, my dad would go hunting with my uncle, a self-proclaimed “sportsman” who, to this day, prides himself in his “game.” I have always refused to eat deer, most likely out of my association with the children’s movie Bambi, and was nauseated by the smell of grinding raw flesh in our home. One of these times, when I was probably around age eight, my dad brought home a deer. I went outside to play and opened the garage door, only to be confronted by an upside down, bloody and skinned dead deer. His tongue was hanging out, eyes bulging, and blood pooling on the garage floor. I screamed in horror and ran away crying. The memory haunts me still today.

Another particular instance stands out in my mind—a dinner with family. My mom cooked Cornish game hens for dinner, and had a mini headless bird on each plate. This was a “special fancy” meal. I think I was in middle school around this time, so I knew that the chicken we eat is the same feathered bird I knew from farms and children’s books, but even still I couldn’t handle seeing the bird “in its body form” and eat it. The sight of this mini “chicken” on my plate had me an emotional mess. I couldn’t cut it up, break apart the bones, or tear off the skin. It was too barbaric (and I do believe I used that same word to my mom when I refused). My mom laughed, amused my childish refusal. Now, had the bird been torn apart and shredded into pieces, unrecognizable from the feathered animal I knew, I would have had no problem eating it (and did not, at any other time until recently).

It amazes me now, as I look back and reflect on all these vivid experiences and associations I had as a child (and even as a young woman – a similar experience to the Cornish hen dinner, when I started crying as my mom tried to show me how to cut up a whole baked chicken), that I didn’t make the connection earlier. I can see how all these experiences have shaped me into who I am now, and how illogical it was for me to stay closed to what I intuitively knew all along. I was known to say things like, “I don’t want to know where my meat comes from” and “If I had to actually kill the chicken/cow/pig myself, I don’t think I could eat it.” Acknowledging that the food on my plate came from the carcass of a formerly live being was an unhappy and disturbing thought for me. I would prefer to think that “chicken breasts” were altogether just a separate thing from the chicken (after all, they come sold separately in big frozen bags, right?), and that “steak” is just its own delightfully delicious food, not the severed muscle from a doe-eyed gentle cow.

What I’ve realized over the past year and a half, and truly awakened to over the past month, is that I was blinded by selective compassion. Our society has taught us that after a certain age, usually the “naïve child” age, only certain animals are worthy of compassion. The others are not. Their “purpose” (as defined by human animals) is to be eaten. That is it. And why is this their “purpose”? Because we’ve developed a taste for their flesh. We like how they taste. That’s it.

Why do we love cats and dogs and (some) rabbits as family members, while consuming other animals – not so different from the same ones we love—on our dinner plates each day? How can we balk at the notion of some cultures eating the very animals we love (namely, cats and dogs in Asian countries), while not stir a bit as we shovel the flesh of cows, chickens, and pigs into our gullets daily? Are they not worthy because we do not find them enjoyable household companions? Is that really what “worth” comes down to?

The animals we artificially bring into this world only for the sole purpose of killing and consuming them are valuable as animals in their unique ways. How is forcefully breeding and slaughtering and eating cows and steer any different than, let’s say, doing the same to horses? Or zebras? Or moose? Or… dogs?

Well, you might say, horses are for working, and riding, and they help us in so many ways. That’s why it’s not okay to eat them. But… wild horses… who exist only because they exist and have a right to their lives… what about them? Do they “help” us? Is that where their worth comes from?

I’m seeing the hypocrisy in my own ways of thinking for so many years. Believing that we, as humans, have the power to define the worth and “purpose” of the animals we’ve named and dominated. It’s just so wrong to me now. Each of these animals, be they wild or unnaturally bred for our appetites, do not exist here “just for us.” They have their own right to life, and unique characteristics and personalities and social interactions that make them not so unlike us human animals. I am sure that if I cared for a chicken, pig, or calf with the same tender love and attention I give to my cats and dog, I would see that they too have personalities, value, and unique social interactions.

I know there are so many rebuttals that pop up when I enter this discussion, and I don’t have the time or energy to attempt to cover all ruffled arguments against compassion in one breath. And that’s not what I’m trying to do. I can’t change anyone but me. But what has been so life-changing for me over the past month have been these few realizations:

I don’t want to contribute to violence against any beings in this world, to the best of my ability. I can’t be perfect, but I do know the biggest step I can make on a daily basis (and the simplest) is to choose to leave animals and their secretions off my plate.

I do wish to live a compassionate and awakened life. In being compassionate, and a Christian and believer in God, I don’t see it as “our place” to “dominate” and use other creatures cruelly and violently just to satisfy our palates. God gives us minds to discern options, and souls to seek moral and ethical choices. I see the most compassionate and loving Christ-like choice is to abstain from the system of inherent cruelty that is bringing animals into the world only to slaughter and eat them.This is wrong to me.

We are blessed with a bounty of plants to nourish our bodies. In the Garden of Eden, we were given the plants to feast upon. (Plants do not, to our knowledge, have nervous systems or experience pain; they are not sentient.) There was not killing and slaughter. It was a peaceful place, where animals likely existed before man. We do not need animal flesh to live healthy, nourished and full lives. We can exist healthily (and much more so, might I add) without consuming them. So why continue to perpetuate a cruel and violent system because we have a “taste” for their flesh?

For these reasons, I have chosen to live vegan. And I have never felt more at peace and filled with joy over how I am eating! Choosing to live vegan is about aligning my values and beliefs with my daily choices. I believe it is right to live with compassion, to not knowingly participate in violence toward humans or non-human animals. I believe in treating my body, and the bodies of other live, sentient and feeling beings, with respect and honor. I believe in eating healthfully and mindfully. I believe in doing what I can, even if it’s not everything perfectly, to change the world and the systems of violence in it. And I believe that if we desire world peace and hope for violence to end between human races and countries, we also need to cease violence against are non-human animals with whom we share this earth.

I cannot personally stop a war between peoples. I cannot personally change the terrorism of nations. I cannot ensure the peace and safety of all animals.

But I can choose a veggie burger over eating a dead cow. I can cook delicious, nourishing and satisfying veggie meals. I can choose not continue to support the slaughter of animals by what I put on my dinner plate and the items I buy for my body and home.

So I think I’ll start there.

Thanks for reading, and being respectful.

Wishing you deepest love and compassion,