Hidden Treasure

26 months.

I've been to the orthodontist three times in the last two weeks. Let's just say I had to go back twice to have him fix his errors, and that the subsequent pain was so intense, I went back and made him figure out how to fix THAT. He has now introduced me into the world of "orthodontic elastics" aka rubber bands, connecting my upper left molar to my lower left canine in an effort to move my whole lower jaw over to the left to properly align the teeth. The great irony here is that the pulling has actually made my teeth feel better.

Time Out New York's Joke of the Week is this:

Lil Wayne told the women on The View that his diamond and platinum grill was actually "his form of braces." I'd love to meet the orthodontist who looked in his mouth and thought, Hey you know what might fix this overbite? Treasure.

Though Robbie Collier meant this to be funny, I can't stop thinking about it. I love the idea of slightly hidden treasure--when the mouth is closed, no one can see it, and the mouth is open, Abracadabra! Jewels! I'm starting to view my own mouth in this way, as I can finally start seeing the fruit of all of this 26 months of labor.

In yoga class yesterday, our teacher introduced the concept of santosha which is broadly defined as contentment, but in the context of not needing more than you have to achieve contentment. He challenged us to find the ways that one can feel content moving within and in harmony with one's circumstances, even if they are difficult, whether it be a complicated yoga pose or life situation. I feel like I'm moving into a new phase of all of this, a certain santosha, that no matter what gets thrown at me (including rubber bands moving my jaw diagonally across my face) it doesn't seem to cow me the way it used to. I am simply looking it in the eye a and letting it look back. As Joseph Campbell said, "It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure."

Lil Wayne and I may disagree on exactly the nature of that treasure, but for now, I've made my peace. I'm in a state of santosha. Whenever anyone asks me how much longer the braces will stay on, I answer with "Who knows?" I told a friend I'm getting very AA about it, just "letting go, and letting God." It's up to the universe to decide, and I'm not fighting it anymore. I'm looking it in the eye. I'm inviting it to tea, and offering scones.

(And adding perhaps a bit of rum to that tea is treasure indeed.)

Cotton Mouth

Two whole years.

Over 730 days.

I told my ortho that it was our two year anniversary. He looked at my chart. "So it is, " he said. "Did you buy me flowers?" he asked, laughing. I made a charming remark, but what I was really thinking was, "You should be buying me flowers, Mister!" For the first time in two years, he was unhappy when he examined me. He said that since my last session there had been no movement in the back tooth he's been trying to turn 90 degrees. (He has been trying to turn it for the last six months.) His theory was that the wire had "slipped out." I knew it hadn't. I had a feeling that there was something wrong when one of his assistants did my adjustments last month. It didn't feel right, and I had terrible headaches--skull aches in fact--this past month. Another month wasted.

This would turn out to be my most dramatic session with him yet. It took him quite some time and elbow grease to force the wire into the molar tube which made me understand firsthand that song "Be a Dentist" from Little Shop of Horrors. Despite this, for the second month in a row he insisted that we are in the home stretch. I would like to believe him, but I don't see how he is going to accomplish everything he wants to accomplish in the next six months. Heck, that back tooth has only turned 45 degrees in since February...I think he upped the ante on it to make up for that lost month because it hurts tremendously, and I can feel the tooth turning. It's also affecting the tooth next to it and it all feels completely out of whack. I understand the adage that things sometimes get worse before they get better. I can't help but wonder how much worse, and for how long.

The traditional two-year anniversary gift is cotton. I want to be swathed in fine cotton sheets, thick cotton towels, even wrapped like a present in a cotton sari. I want to have softness all around me until it muffles out every instance of discomfort and leaves me as refreshed as a good night's sleep on those fine cotton sheets, and as certain as a Maharani in full regalia.

Bracedlets

When I was eight, I loved those black jelly bracelets that everyone seemed to have in the 80s. I didn't wear them up my arm as was the style, a la Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan: In fact, I only had two, one white, one magenta. (I was never a faddish girl) So one would think that happening upon bracedlets would summon a sense of nostalgia or even a smirk of whimsy. But I have to say, that I was kind of appalled. If I was 13, I'd love it. I'd revel in it. However, at 38, the thought of wearing the power chains that cause me so much pain each month for a fashion statement is akin to wearing studded belts or spike earrings. I get that those things are worn as messages, or in some cases, badges of honor that show exactly how much pain the wearer can and will endure. How much of a badass they are. But these supposedly benign bracedlets are completely misleading. I would much rather wear this:

This was designed by Lorinczi, and I love how it makes this smooth, metal showcase for that perfect toothlike pearl. I mean after all, isn't that what this process is supposed to be about? Not holding on to the painful parts, but finally creating the space for the pearls (or pearly whites) to shine? I think the spotlight might be just left of center...but it should be aligned in the right place in, oh, about six months.

Feelings Are Facts

23 months.

Almost 2 years.

The ortho put on an even tighter wire last week (what is this the fourth in 5 months?) and everything has felt off kilter since. I wake up with the right side of my jaw hurting, teeth not lining up in a way that I can comfortably chew, and feeling like I've been hurtled back in time a year when it felt exactly the same way. I convinced myself that I could pay two years of penance and then this would all be over, but now my timeline has been extended by six months, and possibly more. We're optimistically looking at December.

I signed a contract, both literally and emotionally, to go through this process for two years, but now that the terms of that contract have not been upheld, I am in a word, angry. If I don't have to keep to the rules of this contract anymore, then the renegade revolutionary is coming out. Guns blazing.

My boss said to me today, "Feelings are facts" which I thought was so wise. The reality of any situation doesn't matter, it's the perception of it, the feeling of it that rules one's existence. ("Nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so" said our fair Hamlet, and his perceptions were not always correct.) I've had my own misperceptions about what I look like, how I feel, even how I'm supposed to react. My friend Mick had a come-to-Jesus moment with me the other night when he emphatically told me that these braces do not make me any less in any way. Mick has this great voice and earnestness that makes it easy to believe him. With this broken two year contract, I'm now angry enough to believe him.

I've reset the clock on he right hand side of the page. We're back into the 100s when we really should have been in the low single digits. Nothing left to do, but in the words of Usher: push it to the limit give it more. Thanks to my niece, this is my new theme song.

Sadhu Tooth

I caught the train with my friend Nicole the other morning and updated her about the teeth. The extra time involved, the crazy torquing of the left side of my face, and my bewilderment at the fact that my ortho has still ignored the one molar on the upper left side of my jaw. This tooth has had no bracket, no wire, no attention at all since this process has started. From day one my doctor has always said that he will get to that tooth later. It is pure rogue.

"It's your Sadhu tooth," she said, laughing. When I asked what a Sadhu was, she said that they are wandering mystics in India who wear saffron colored robes and have chosen to live a life apart from regular society to pursue their own spiritual practice. I read on Wikipedia that the root of the word "Sadhu" comes from the root sadh which means to "make straight" or "reach one's goal." (I got a chill when I read that--could it be any more appropriate?) Sadhus focus their attention solely on the fourth and final Hindu goal of life which called moksha, meaning liberation from samsara, or the eternal cycle of birth, death and rebirth.

I have said many times that I go through a monthly cycle. First, my teeth get tightened and I am left feeling exhausted, ugly and diminished for at least a week. Then I feel the teeth move and settle into their new place. Then my strength and power and invincibility return to me in my final week and then those feelings dissolve once the teeth get tightened again. It is my own dental samsara of sorts. I suppose when my Sadhu tooth is finally bracketed and wired, and reigned in to return to the fold, as the final piece of this process it will signal the achievement of orthodontic moksha and then I will experience true liberation.

Is it possible that enlightenment can be reached via braces?

Upping the Down

20 months.

My ortho, for the third month in a row has placed yet an even stronger wire on my top teeth and made it his mission to turn my back right molar a full 90 degrees. Yes, it hurts as much as it sounds like it does.

You may have noticed that the countdown clock on the right side of the blog has gone from 116 to 177 days left. That's because, when I pressed him, my doctor said that it would look more like 6 more months than 4 to complete what we need to do. (I told him I needed to mentally prepare for how much longer this will really take.) To me, 2 months more won't do much and the work that needs to be done will probably take me to the end of the year. I would love to be proven wrong, but I'm trying to be realistic. The disappointment I felt when I convinced myself that this would all be done in 18 months is something too crushing to revisit.

I just finished reading A Visit From The Goon Squad and in that very well done book (which just won the Pulitzer!) it is time that is the eponymous goon. After my appointment today, I can attest that time is indeed a goon.

But if we're going to break it down, "Goon" could also be read as "Go On." So go on is what I'll do.

Toofs!

One of my favorite books of all time is Bitter With Baggage Seeks Same

which cracks me up every time I open up the pages. The book may have come out in 2003, but it just never gets old! It's a book of tableaus which follow the adventures of fuzzy toy chicks and their (rather dark) adventures. Dollhouse furniture, candy and craft supplies are used to create the scenes, and the captions are so devilishly biting, that you can't help but go, "Oh, snap!"

I've read other books of the genre (Desperate Cupcakes is a lot of fun, my fellow foodies) and I've been waiting for a such a book to come along about teeth so I could blog about it.

Imagine my joy when I found out about My Milk Toof!

The book will be in stores on March 23rd, but I got an early copy and I'm so excited! The book tells the story of the really sweet adventures of Ickle and Lardee, teeth who were lost at childhood, cared for by the tooth fairy and now have found their way home to their original owner to play and live and stay. (I love the part where, tucked into a comfy bed after his first day back home, Ickle asks, "Can you leave the door open? Just a little? Do you need me to pay rent? Can we eat waffles for breakfast?" Oh yes! Waffles! My teeth want those too!

I had no idea that the book was attached to the My Milk Toof blog, which is so completely adorable, that me and my tooth obsession can't believe that we haven't seen it sooner. I can only imagine the day when my own teeth, shackles thrown off, can seem as cool and relaxed as this:

Hey, the braces are due to come off in August, so I just might be able to join these little toofs at the pool!

Inhae Lee, I think your stuff is awesome! (Dare I say toothsome?) I bow to your incredibly creativity and attention to detail. How's this for a new adventure for Ickle and Lardee: whatever would they do if they encounter braces? I can't wait to see!

Eighteenth Amendment

Eighteen months today. Year and a half.

Today began stormy with rain coming down in sheets. I arrived at the ortho's office to find no one, not a soul there. I have never been to his office when there weren't at least 3 people waiting in the waiting room, and each of the three chairs in the examination room filled. It was eerie, slow and quiet, and I had real individual attention. He put thicker wires on both the top and bottom teeth and was pleased with the way the upper molars are turning. He's intent on closing the gaps on the bottoms and let me tell you, in just a few hours, I can already feel and see a difference. He did concern me because he said that he'll need to widen out my top teeth, in order to accommodate the crossbite. This I found scary because I don't know exactly how that is to be achieved. The more I read about its treatment and the necessity of something called an "expander," the more I hope that my doctor can fix this without such a medieval torture device...

I did some research on crossbites and they say that it is often caused by people who have large tonsils and adenoids, who are forced to breathe through the mouth, rather than the nose as children. Fascinating! I've been told by every doctor who has ever looked in my throat that I have extraordinarily large tonsils, and this was the cause of yearly strep infections as a child. (Every time I see a new doctor they are shocked to find that they were not removed.) I suppose it is somewhat comforting to know where it comes from, but I'm feeling a little down. I had convinced myself that I would be done with this whole process in under two years. I was kind of specific, telling myself that 18 months would be the time that this will all end. Now, I'm going to have to make an amendment to that lucky number 18.

The Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution is all about prohibiting the manufacture, sale and transportation of intoxicating liquors--and it was the only amendment to be fully repealed. Right now I could use a glass of intoxicating liquor to ease the disappointment of the repeal of the eighteenth expectation. An After Eighteen sounds like it would ease my childlike hope that all this would have been done by now. Chocolate milk with kahlua and creme de menthe? Yep, that sounds about right.

But then again, in Hebrew chai or חי is both the number eighteen and the word for life. And if I am to look on the bright side, (as I often convince myself to do within the confines of this blog) perhaps there is new life to be had in this eighteenth amendment. What I started thinking of the braces as my greatest strength, instead of my perceived greatest liability? What would happen if I merely started thinking, even for a day, for that to be the case? What sort of life would be birthed? How much wider would I smile?

What if you thought of your worst quality was actually your best? How would your life be different? Let me know, I'm curious.

Feliz Ano Nuevo

My people! I have not abandoned you! My sincerest apologies for not writing for so long. I've been traveling, and decompressing from the rather stressful end to 2010. I don't know one person who wasn't simply thrilled to kiss this past year goodbye.

I took refuge in Costa Rica a mere two days after my last entry, and after being there, something has changed entirely. Nicole and I did a phenomenal yoga retreat in the mountains where I finally got my yoga practice back, lost my seemingly debilitating dependence on sugar, was face to face with a jaguar, a ghost face monkey, a tarantula, quite a few crocodiles and so many beautiful birds. I went zip lining in the cloud forest. I let my heavy heart get light. I slept as I've never slept before. I don't feel the cold anymore. (An affliction I've felt for over 20 years.) I saw rainbows in the coffee fields every single day. Here, see for yourself:

While I was there, I arranged for a massage, where I told the practioner about my struggle and unhappiness with the braces. He worked on my whole body, but at the end, held my cheeks and jaws in his hands for quite a while, simply letting his heat and energy absorb into my face. This struck me as so kind, and so intimate that I wanted to cry.

It was so interesting to find upon my return that Dictionary.com's Word of the Day was "mansuetude" which means "mildness, gentleness" as in "For indeed, it is possible to attain a state of divine mansuetude that nothing dismays and nothing surprises, just as one in love might, after many years, arrive at a sublime tranquillity of the sentiments, sure of their force and durability, through constant experience of their pleasures and pains." -- Honoré de Balzac, Jordan Stump, Adam Gopnik, The Wrong Side of Paris

I don't know why I love that quote so much, but I do. It somehow sums up everything that I've been feeling, and the profound shift that has happened since being in Costa Rica. I feel balanced, unburdened. I want to smile and I don't care what's on my teeth. They look good to me, in fact, and I've caught up with quite a few friends who I haven't seen in months who have been utterly beguiled by how good they look. (And may have inspired a friend or two to take the plunge themselves)

It is no coincidence then, that Dictionary.com's Word of the Day, right after mansuetude was "creolize" which means "to combine local and foreign elements into a new, distinct whole." That would be me. I've been creolized. I've been Costa Ricafied. Quite literally, I've been enriched by the Rich Coast. I am local, and foreign, and a new, distinct whole. Put simply, I am ready. I don't know for what exactly, but I've started drinking coffee again in gratitude, and it feels lovely, warming, luxurious to do so.

Be, Do, Have

I went on a blind date recently, and had the opportunity to talk with my suitor on the phone before we met. He was bravely guarded about his past divorces, and I was bravely guarded about the braces. I told him, in the spirit of full disclosure what to expect when I smiled. He said, "Of all that could have followed the phrase 'in the spirit of full disclosure,' braces are pretty minor." It was of course, the right answer, and one that shouldn't have surprised me, but kinda did. I'm not entirely certain what I thought he was going to respond, but that was our survey's #1 answer.

Now, the date wasn't all that, but it wasn't because he was twice divorced, or because I had braces. That realization provided a very slight, very lovely paradigm shift for me. We all hold these secret reasons why we can't do, or have, or be the things that we want to do, or have or be. The great irony is, no one knows these little secrets except us, so they're entirely unreal--just these extravagant stories we create to hold ourselves back and hold ourselves up. Usually Jesse James-like, at gunpoint.

There is this great New Yorker cartoon that my mom showed me when I was a teenager--it was the image of a man tightly grasping prison bars in front of his face, with a very sad, defeated look. But there was no jail surrounding him, just the bars in front of his face, which he held so tightly. Illustrates what I'm talking about here.

Now that I've got the bars firmly on my teeth, I think I'll let go of the proverbial or metaphorical ones, and just do, and have and be absolutely everything--not only in spite of the braces, but maybe even because of them.

Cue sweeping epic movie soundtrack!

Happy Happy Joy Joy!

Ok, hands down this is the BEST POSTING I'VE EVER READ ON THE INTERNET! Click the link! Go on! Click it!

Time and Travel

Apologies! Lots of them! I know that I haven't written in almost a month, but things got crazy at work, and I went on vacation, and my new niece was born (Welcome, Abigael!) It took me a little while to catch my breath, but I am back! (Thanks to those of you who asked where the blog went--I feel loved!)

I don't even know where to start. Since everything begins and ends with the braces on this blog, let me start there. I had started to get to a place where I was ok with them, and then something shifted again. Maybe it's that whole one-step-forward-two-steps-back kind of thing. Every time I start to get insecure, something reminds me that really, it's not all that bad. As some of you know, I went to Alaska on vacation to escape our over 100-degree temperatures. There I was in a hotel in Anchorage sharing an elevator with a woman wearing a t-shirt that read, "Got Braces?" I looked at her and said, "Why yes, I do!" and smiled widely. She looked closely and said, "Where? Are those Invisalign?"

I almost choked on my own cackling.

As we got to know each other in the elevator, she told me that the t-shirt was given to her by her daughter's orthodontist and asked me what kind of newfangled braces they have in New York City that make them so unobtrusive. (Which made me cackle some more, because they are hardly unobtrusive!) Turns out the woman and her daughter were from Nome, AK and there are NO ORTHODONISTS AT ALL IN NOME. This means that her daughter has to take an airplane and FLY the 1,000 miles to Anchorage for tightenings each month. I mean, that's the distance of the Iditarod! I will hardly complain about going out of my way for my tightenings ever again! Needless to say things were put in perspective for me.

Wes Nisker wrote in his article, Evolution's Body that "We now have evidence that our bodies arise from the forces and elements that make up the entire universe, through a complex chain of interdependent events. Internalizing this understanding can help liberate us from the powerful sense of ownership and attachment we have to the body, which is a cause of tremendous suffering, especially as the body grows old and we must face its inevitable destiny."

I think we all inherently know that the body we have now is temporary. It will change and change again. My body now isn't what it was five years ago, ten years ago or even yesterday. How powerful we are to have the ability to make that change! As I near the one year mark with braces, I find that I am both amazed at how much has changed and disheartened by how much still needs to be done. But at least I don't have to fly to Anchorage for treatments!

The trip was nothing short of amazing, the highlight being the 26 Glaciers tour we took out of Whittier, AK. It was a shocking 43 degrees that day, but so many lovely things to see. This was my favorite shot:It was so quiet and cold and still near the glacier. We could only hear the cracking of the ice, and the occasional ruckus when a piece of the glacier splintered away from itself and fell into the water, leaving behind bright blue bits of debris. Even the body of the glacier is temporary--what seems so huge and solid, is actually more delicate than one could ever imagine.

And of course, the water is home to these cutie pies!:

I was so utterly charmed by the little baby sea otter on the mama's belly. They didn't look real! I kept checking the water to see if Jim Hensen was down there playing puppetry!

Countdowns

I really feel like Michael, this year's winner on The Biggest Loser, who started out at 530 pounds, and lost 200 in the course of the show. It's so gratifying to see that my number at the upper right corner of this blog now reads 399, which means I'm officially in the 300s!

Let me remind you--I started out at 730.

I never thought that this moment would happen. I'm a breath away from being halfway done with this process and in many ways it went so much more quickly than I ever could have imagined. I can see how much has been accomplished within this time period, how much has changed, and I am bewildered at how that has happened.

Slow and steady does win the race. It's a matter of never giving up, and diligently moving forward even when you'd rather just roll over and go to sleep. I got up this morning at 8am, leapt out of bed, got into my running gear and headed out to the park. The track was nice and shady at that hour, and the park was filled with joggers, bikers, speedwalkers and rollerbladers. I was determined to run a full mile, despite not training for the last two weeks. (It has been too darn hot to move, let alone run.) I imagined Jillian Michaels in my head, relentless and chastising me for the large amounts of pizza I had last night. I ran that full mile, and at the end of it, my heart and lungs were on fire and felt like they were going to burst right out of my chest. I began slowly walking the mile back to find my equilibrium again, and as I did, a very fit, very tan runner went past me and said into my ear, "Lookin' good, Mami!"

Now, I know for darn sure I was not lookin' good at that moment, but I've encountered this lovely code of runners on more than one occasion, where encouragement to keep going, even that extra step, is freely and generously given. It didn't matter that I was a beginner, or that I was struggling, or even that I was a stranger--it was the showing up that counted. Being present in the moment. Doing what you came to do, and knowing that tomorrow it can be better.

As I came back to my apartment, I passed a restaurant with this quote in the window:

"Skill to do comes from doing"--Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Yeah, Ralphie Boy!

Perfect 10

We're at the 10 month mark and my orthodontist put a wire AND an elastic chain across the top left side of my teeth and another chain across almost all of my bottom teeth. This is all in an effort to move the entire lower string of teeth over to the left, and bring my top teeth towards the middle. It seems like a colossal task, quite frankly. But the fact that my doctor is always so very happy with my progress inspires confidence, and the fortitude to continue for another month.

The teeth hurt, but I'm used to this. It will be fine in a few days. I'm learning to push beyond the boundaries of discomfort lately--something I was never able to do before. I've started doing this with my running, and I am amazed to find a reserve of energy when I think I just can't move forward for one more step. It's not the same kind of energy--it comes from a different place, and has a different feeling--kind of like a backup generator. I never knew that this existed within me before, and I'm just starting to get acquainted with it. It feels somewhat magical to tap into.

I read this in O Magazine recently:

Find Comfort in Discomfort: "Remember it's supposed to hurt, you're supposed to feel sore," says Debbie Ford. She's not talking about just the physical aches and pains of the couch potato turned triathlon competitor, but also the mental and emotional uneasiness of the would-be CEO or aspiring artist. "Accept that you'll never get rid of self-doubt," Todd Kashdan says. "An adventurous person will always have moments of feeling like a fraud--it's a sign that you're creating new roles for yourself, that you're evolving. It means that you're doing great, passionate work."

I don't know if my running constitutes great, passionate work, but it is a new and uncertain role. I'm just as hesitant to call myself a blogger as I am to call myself a runner. It's just something I'm doing right now, rather than something I am basing my identity upon. I do believe in doing things right, getting the proper tools, and making it as pleasurable a pursuit as possible. (I'm still reading My Life In France by Julia Child--this sums up her approach to life to a "T". I find her so charmingly inspirational! And I might have to buy copper cooking pots in solidarity!) I signed up for a 10-week running class and I'm looking forward to meeting people who are interested as I am in trying out something new and going boldly where they haven't gone before.

My friend Kristin joined me for dinner tonight, at a restaurant appropriated called Alchemy. As I walked down my street to come home, I saw so many gorgeous fireflies, giving off their green glow in the sultry evening. It made me think of this quote:

"Fireflies signal here and there. The sky is a color of neither blue nor black, and there is nothing in it to be acknowledged beyond the occasional flicker of a star. Only just now, a longing like love bears upon the vast, clear indifference of this night." --N. Scott Momaday

It's good to be home from Ohio. I missed Kristin and the fireflies and the Chocolate Room for dessert. It was a perfect 10 of a way to be welcomed home.

Science Lesson

I've always been a big fan Newton’s Law of Motion—the concept that “a body at rest tends to stay at rest / a body in motion tends to stay in motion.” According to the Encarta Encyclopedia, inertia is the state by which "an object…not subject to any...external force moves at a constant velocity. In even simpler terms, inertia means that an object will always continue moving at its current speed and in its current direction until some (other) force causes its speed or direction to change." There is some comfort in realizing that inertia doesn't mean stillness, but simply keeping the status quo.

I realize that I have constant force upon my teeth, and because of this, I am trying very hard to create a state of equilibrium. That constant force is very strong, but undetectable to anyone but me, and so I fear that it looks as though I am in a state of stillness or that I'm not trying hard enough to achieve the goals that I should have achieved by now, large or small. The novel is still sitting there. I haven't gotten to Japan. My niece and nephew speak better French than I do.

Maybe this is why I am so attracted to running these days. I am exerting my own force upon me, one that is visible to the outside world, and one that certainly matches the force that is exerted upon my interior. I had the day off today and for the first time I really ran--intervals of a 1/2 mile walking with 1/4 of a mile running. (Aren't you proud of me, J-Bird??) It felt good to work that hard, and to have a goal of not only running a 5K, but to getting rid of the last vestiges of my cupcake depression.

I saw a woman on the street today wearing a neck brace, and she looked so tall and elegant with the aid of the brace--placing her feet carefully as she walked. I wondered if she was self conscious of the brace, but as soon as I had that thought, it was replaced by another: "What does it matter? She needs the brace and it will soon be off, when the problem is corrected." I stopped cold in my tracks. I mean, if that's the honest, compassionate and instant train of thought that ran through my head, then why am I still continuing to convince myself that compassion is unavailable to me with my own plight with braces? Maybe someone is even thinking that I look tall and elegant with them. Wouldn't that be a hoot?

What a lovely thought/force to push me out of my state of inertia!

Ready, Set...

“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.” - Marie Curie

There is so much going on around me that I don't understand. Bombs in Times Square. Oil bleeding into the Gulf of Mexico. More corporate restructuring at work. The situation in Greece. It all seems so unreal, amorphous, so large and important that it cannot be properly seen with one pair of naked eyes. It keeps me awake at night, worried, uneasy, pained.

In a previous post, The Purpose Driven Thought, I mentioned that I ached to take up running, and though I haven't quite turned myself into Jackie Joyner-Kersee, I have started a form of training. Six and a half miles last week. Seven this week! (Ok, ok, it's more walking than running, but still. Baby steps!) It seems that only when I am moving do I feel attached to the world in a way that is authentic and meaningful. Maybe it's because my mind and the body are in tune with each other at the same pace, and that pace is in accordance with New York City's earth, wind and fire.

I am thinking about training for a half marathon. I've been a bit skittish about making lofty goals in the past, but instead of being afraid of a seemingly impossible goal, I'm truly excited by it. Perhaps it's the braces that have taught me the hard won lesson that things really do ameliorate when given careful and consistent nurturing and attention. I have been subconsciously viewing time as an enemy. If a goal looked like it was going to take too long, then my NYC impatience has always derailed me and defeated me before I even began. But now, I realize that though things may take a long time, they don't take forever, and whatever you want, simply because the desire has arisen, is worth the process.

I might not run this half marathon any time soon, but I'm not afraid that I can't. Understanding that I can only took 37 years. Better late than never!

The Happiness Project

I had the incredible good fortune to be invited by my dear friend Sarah to a literary salon last night at a gorgeous apartment on the Upper West Side. The purpose of the "Happier Hour" was to get women together (I believe there were about 50 of us) and talk about a concept, such as balance or commitment or, in the case last night, happiness. Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project was the special guest speaker, and the room was absolutely rapt with attention when she took the floor. I loved her calm demeanor, and hearing about her year of living, quite literally, in pursuit of happiness. When she brought up the concept of what Tal Ben-Shahar calls "The Arrival Fallacy" I really perked up my ears.

The Arrival Fallacy, is the idea that when you arrive at a certain destination, you'll be happy. On her blog, Gretchen writes:

The arrival fallacy is a fallacy because arriving rarely makes you as happy as you expect. Why? Because usually by the time you’ve arrived at your destination, you’re expecting to reach it, so it has already been incorporated into your happiness. You quickly become adjusted to the new state of affairs. And of course, arriving at one goal usually reveals a new goal. There’s another hill to climb.

I'm trying to think about this in terms of my own bionic situation. I dare say, that arriving at the destination of an unfettered smile free of braces will indeed make me significantly happier. I will have something to think about other than my teeth (Hallelujah!) I'll be able to eat whatever I want once again. (My kingdom for crusty french bread!) And I can stop thinking that I'm so unattractive all the time. (The events of the last posting aside.) When I first got the braces on I was feeling so small that the idea of dating was simply anathema to me. My friend Kristin looked at me with her best "give-me-a-break" face and said, "Are you really not going to have sex for two years while you wear those things?" I think Kristin might underestimate how committed I can be to self punishment.

And yet.

If I really think about what has made me happiest during the last seven months whilst I've been wearing my little tooth trinkets, I'd have to say that writing this blog has made me happier than I ever could have imagined. I've been getting incredible feedback both from close friends and from people I've never met. I've encouraged those who are on the same journey with braces, and I know I've been encouraged by them (That means you, Eddie!) I've been told by those without braces at all how much they enjoy my writing, and I have been so delightfully humbled by the mere fact that anyone reads this, and takes the time to tell me so.

I read this today:

The quality of your action depends on the quality of your being. Suppose you’re eager to offer happiness, to make someone happy. That’s a good thing to do. But if you’re not happy, then you can’t do that. In order to make another person happy, you have to be happy yourself. So there’s a link between doing and being. If you don’t succeed in being, you can’t succeed in doing. If you don’t feel that you’re on the right path, happiness isn’t possible. This is true for everyone; if you don’t know where you’re going, you suffer. It’s very important to realize your path and see your true way.

- Thich Nhat Hanh, "The Heart of The Matter" Tricycle

Could it be that this was never about my jaw, my orthodontist-shocking crossbite, or even the loneliness and demoralization I've felt these last few months? Could it be that writing was always the true path? I have another 508 days with braces, and I think of how lucky I am to have 508 more days to write about it. What a warm revelation to recognize that this is indeed my happiness project.

Cycling

We're on the four week program.

First, in week one, the braces get tightened. They hurt. I feel miserable and Quasimodo-like and I just want to sleep and hide and be left alone. I can't chew and I feel about as attractive as Abe Vigoda. In week two, the teeth start to move into place and I get used to their new positions. I figure out foods that I can eat and the shy turtle that I've turned into comes out of her shell and peeks a curious head out. In week three I can't remember why I was so damn cranky. I feel great. I run in the park. I plan European trips. I wear fishnets. But then of course, it's time to get these suckers tighetened again and the cycle starts all over.

It can lead one to drink.

That said, my dear friend Diana challenged me the other night to go to a bar, sit on a nice leather stool and just see what happens. She told me that all this fear I have of being unsightly is all in my head--and this experiment would prove it. She told me to do this when I'm feeling fine and fishnetty and also to do this when I'm wasting away again in Quasimodoville.

Her challenge has been echoing in my mind since she threw down the gauntlet. As I took a nice lunch hour outside in the phenomenal weather yesterday, I was thinking about whether or not I would do it. I walked down the crowded street with everyone showing lots of skin and bright colors. I was utterly lost in thought when a man passed me and said distinctly into my ear, "Sexy."

10-4, Roger that. Loud and clear.

Today

The cupcake depression is officially over.

I will admit that I have had some form of sweet yummy for the past four months. (Five? Six?) I know I was trying to soften the hard edges in my mouth, counteract the unpleasant metal prodding, and surround myself with things that are light, fluffy, airy, sweet, pretty--all those things that I wasn't feeling with this crazy iron maiden in my mouth. I loved every bite, and for the moments that I held those little confections in my hands, I did indeed feel petite, indulged, luscious, sensual.

But as with all relationships that are based purely on passion and nothing more, I've been left with unfulfilled promises, a residual disappointment, and an uneasy "gift" of 12 extra pounds. I have been saying for weeks that I need to get a hold of my need for sweets as I earnestly started each day virtuous and somehow spiraled into ill repute. (Who knew hot cocoa is the gateway drug for cupcakes?!)

As many of you know, I have a serious obsession with the Olympics, and have had it since the 1980 games. I met meet speed skater Eric Heiden a few years later in 1982, and it was in fact, my first ambition to be an Olympic speed skater when I grew up. As the Vancouver competition came to a close, and I was once again awed by the amazing feats of human muscle, bone and spirit, I said to myself, "Ok, Fatso. Cast off thy cupcake!"

My father made a plaque that hung in his bedroom which read: "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." I remember being utterly confused by this message as a child, but now I get it. Today I didn't eat sweets. Today I made chili and arepas for dinner and today I'm feeling happier and more centered than I have in months. (Not an easy feat when your teeth are all out of whack!) Today I'm remembering my favorite moment from the Olympics, and though I'm mopey that they're over, today I have this.

Does anyone else hear Neil Diamond's "America" in your head after reading this post?

Dirty Mouth

Yesterday was my six month anniversary with the braces. I can't believe that it's been six months already! It seems to have gone very quickly, and yet, it's been the bane of my existence as well. I imagine that this is how mothers feel--so caught up with the everyday needs and care, that time seems to play tricks on them, and months and years fly by to put this fully formed human being in front of them. I look in the mirror at my "six month old" and am full of wonder. I've likened this whole braces process to children before, and in many ways, it is an apt comparison. There is a cocooning, a birthing, and rearing that is taking place. And at the end, like all proud parents, I will be able to look at my teeth and say, "I made that happen."

It's quite a leap to be able to think about that moment right now, but I think it's because, for the first time, I can have that proud day in my sights. My teeth really do look different. They are still figuring out how and where they should move, but they are definitely doing it! My orthodontist was once again very happy with the progress, which in turn, makes me very relieved. I was also glad to get my bands changed, as my friend Nicole delightedly exclaimed last week: "Wow, you got neon green bands! Cool!" Except for the fact that they were neon green because of all the curry I had been eating. Lesson learned--no more curry unless I'm going to the orthodontist right afterwards! Now my mouth is so bright and clean. Are you listening Orbit gum? I'm posterchild ready for your "dirty mouth" ads!

My friend Ginny shared this quote from Alexander Graham Bell recently: "When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the ones which open for us." That has been true for me for a long time now. I've been mourning losses--the loss of my freedom of food, my healthy routine, and a certain person that I loved. But something has shifted along with my teeth and those closed doors have led me down a hallway towards something entirely new. Though these past few months have made me hesitant to walk down that hallway and open other doors, now I'm peeking around the corners and getting curious.

Call me Alice. It's time for colorful, interesting and exciting trip down the hallway...if not the rabbit hole!