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ursoself-satisfying · 6 years ago

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My Sweet Lord (ch2)

hes a lil young here for when how old hes supposed to be when this stry takes place but its hard to find a non adorable n giggly gif of him lol

Chapter 2 - I’m On Fire

Priest!Joe Mazzello x F!Reader, NSFW, ~3.5k words

My Sweet Lord masterlist

A/N: go listen to holy ghost by modern baseball while u read too cus its rly good,,, anyway this one is a lil dif!!! its a lil bg on the town a lil scene setting n its all about joe now!!!

special thanks given in this post!! you can find whole accompanying laylists there as well not just single associated songs!!!

Warning(s): sex, religious guilt, some scary images, mentions of ejaculate, uuhhh body horror,,,, i think thats it besides maybe kinda disrespecting ur elders lol ???

Father Mazzello had been distracted, to say the least. His newest regular was different, in the simplest terms, and drew his attention in the most tantalizing ways. See, the Oranges was a retiree town in the middle of nowhere, a Bermuda Triangle of the American Midwest. People arrive and they never leave, usually because they die. It was a bit ironic but very fitting to him that the epitome of classic American ideals, though contrasting, collided with ancient human instinct to create this town where the elderly are unequivocally cared for by the young, who remain the bones of the town and keep everything running. You could live and die in the Oranges without ever even leaving them.

The Father had always thought the name was deceiving. “The Oranges” sounded like a small suburb in the wet, hot, muggy parts of Florida, not an old folks zone in middle America. There was some part of him that would always dislike living in a town named “The Oranges”. Maybe it was the priestly side of him, feeling dishonest in their presentation when confronted with their reality, meaning they did not and never have grown oranges there. Maybe it was the sunny signposts standing crookedly beside the worn yellow houses, paint peeling and fences fading, showcasing the poor upkeep of people’s own homes.

He was too harsh, though, because a town, he knew, was not its structures but rather its people, its community. The Oranges had no shortage of smiles, even if they mostly consisted of secondary sets of dentures. That’s what made her smile so different. It was real. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason she stood out, no, it was also her legs, her thighs leading up to her hips, two very real hips, and a waist that would fit so well in his hands and then up a little further where his hands could perfectly cup-

The pencil snapped with a shock and the man blinked at his scribbles, unintelligible now that he’s been broken from his stupor. The lead tip of his pencil rolled in a curved line off his journal then off his desk and he watched it tiredly before glancing at the clock. It was nearly 1 a.m. The clergyman sat back and huffed, taking a moment to assess himself.

His hand had wandered to the crux of his black slacks and he groaned at the hardness beneath the cloth. His groan was unintentional but a needed release as he couldn’t “release” how he really wanted to. His thoughts were clouded with this girl- this girl- He barely knew her name and here he was, fantasizing about her simply because she was the only eligible woman he’d laid his eyes on in nearly a year, or probably more accurately over a year.

‘Why should that even matter to you?’ He asked himself. ‘Why should it matter that she’s eligible? She’s probably not. She probably has a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, even.’ Joe couldn’t help but groan again at the thought of her, pressed against someone else all the ways he wanted her to press against him.

‘Stop it!’ Some voice in the back of his mind hissed. ‘You’re a priest! It doesn’t matter if she’s unavailable! You’re the one who’s unavailable! You took an oath! You made a covenant with the Lord!’ If Joe were a man to curse, this is when he would curse. Instead, he simply moaned in compliance and gave into his conscience, sighing and giving his erection one last squeeze before sliding his hand back up his body, resting it on his open journal. He ripped out the page he’d been working on, the one describing his ‘newest parishioner’ in exquisite detail. No one would ever see that. No one could ever know he experienced such temporal thoughts. He was a priest, after all, he had to set a good example.

He spent the next twenty minutes in a headspace he despised, the one he used to eradicate the want that grew between his legs. It was images of the women in the first row of the church with teeth yellow and denture line visible, their smiles wide and slippery. The men in the back few pews have spots on their balding heads that are sometimes protruding and have hairs only growing there and somehow nowhere else. Joe focused on that, on the lumps and aches they vocalized, on the scratching of their smoke warped voices and the pores like pools on their noses. He thought of the way the hands of the mass shook when they went to place money in the collection basket, the yellow of their nails and the chipped polish on the manicured claws. Their skin was saggy and discolored and their hair is matted and fake and he thinks about what they must look like under their musty Sunday clothes-

He’s soft again, his pants no longer straining and he breathes a sigh of relief, maybe a quiet thanks to God. The priest does his best not to let his mind wander as he lets his feet carry him to his bed where he disrobes, definitely not drifting to imagine how her eager hands would feel pulling his trousers down, nails scraping down his thighs- Joe forced himself to turn the mental image of her tight knuckles to one of chapped and wrinkled ones to keep himself calm. As much as he dislikes subjecting himself to these thoughts, he tells himself he does it for the Lord. The Lord will keep him strong in these times of weakness, he tells himself, in these hours of temptation. He slid into his bed in briefs and an undershirt, letting the softness of his sheets smooth over his skin as it envelopes him and he’s whisked away into a few hours of much-needed rest and revelation.

Your hands had never been softer. It was the only definable thought in Joe’s head when you pushed up his thin shirt. The fabric bunched up over his stomach and you lowered your head to lick a long, wet stripe up from the happy trail disappearing down his shorts.

You were naked, straddling him, hips and thighs curved and soft and outlined by the moonlight that shone in from the cracks in the curtains behind you. The luminescence bounces off the soft tufts of your hair that bunched when your nose hit the bottom of his shirt and you kissed the middle space of his chest reverently. Joe was so wrapped in this moment that he asked no questions. His mind was muddled with lust and want. If you met his needy gaze, you would physically see the fog you caused in his brain, shown in the glazed over eyes that tracked your every move. It was like looking in the windows of a rocking teenager’s car, all steam, and sex behind them.

Your hips ground unconsciously on his crotch where his arousal was obvious and painful and he couldn't keep in his moan. The contact was too much for his near virginal state to handle. Your body, luscious and young and soft, and so easily defiled. It was so sinful. It caused a fire to burn within his loins, reigniting one that had long been a dormant pile of ashes before you came along. Every sway of your breasts as you rose your body slightly from his was another match stricken and thrown to maintain this burn.

Every clench of your thighs around his waist was kindle to feed it. Your undeniable silhouette was gasoline, your ass weighing on his lap was logs and paper, probably journal pages he’s written and hidden of you, but the way you looked down at him, the way your eyes fluttered and your lashes fell, the way your mouth puckered and curled and glistened, that was the first page of the book to burn. One by one, page by page, you would rid him of his religion, strip him of belief until all that existed was you.

And he was fine with that.

Again, Joe felt the contact of your soft pussy pressing over his aching cock and his hand instinctively reached for your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks while his other five went to squeeze at your thigh. Every desperate touch from him was a message; ‘You’re gorgeous,’ ‘please touch me,’ ‘I need you.’ He was practically tracing the letters into your leg as his hand slid down to your knee then back up to your waist. He was still laying down while you were straddling him and grinding against him, occasionally letting your hands wander, pushing up his shirt and licking the skin you could reach without stretching. You had leaned forward to suck at his neck and the holy man about died and ascended to heaven when he felt your tits on his chest and your lips on his neck simultaneously. Your nipples were hard, enough so he felt them drag over his exposed skin when you arched your back and left bruises at his jaw.

Being so focused on your lips, Joe had lost track of your hands. His were on your ass, groping and kneading with silent adoration, but yours had moved from mussing his hair to tugging at his briefs. The man gasped when your hips left his and then, with a swift and sudden motion, his underwear was yanked down and you giggled. Joe, however, did not giggle. The exposure was shocking and the cold was unwelcome, making his cock twitch and sending a shiver up his spine. It was in this moment that Joe finally took in your image, the bite of the cold shaking him from his focus on just how you felt.

All his other senses were hazy and the man of the Lord was overwhelmed. You were glowing. Your hair was feathered and voluptuous. Your skin was velveteen and your body belonged in a temple, deserving of an altar and endless worship. He would have sworn he witnessed a halo form around you as well, a golden line connecting one shoulder to the other in a shining arch. Your smile was soft and distracting, but his gaze persisted down your body full of admiration and curiosity. Your chest was supple and your stomach plush, just like your hips and thighs, all there for him to appreciate.

He sat up to improve his view, allowing himself to be in much closer proximity to you, able now to bask in your scent, sweet and innocent. Then he laid his larger hands on your breasts for the first time. He was almost worried the metal of his rings would surprise you, being cold on your hot skin, but you had no reaction. Kneading with slow gentle movements, he slid his thumb just barely over your nipples, hard and sensitive for him.

Somewhere in the back of his throat, a question was lost, a search for approval that got stuck on its way out, but it didn’t seem to matter as your constant blissful smile was encouraging enough. He didn’t question any of it.

Quiet hums vibrated in your throat and your half-lidded gaze motivated the priest to feel more of your body, squeezing at your waist and ass again and leaning forward to drop unpracticed kisses to the valley of your chest. You laced your fingers in the back of his hair, cradling his skull and holding him to your skin, but when his thumb brushed over your clit, you stopped him. His wrist was caught in your grip in a quick and unexpected move that stopped him from further touching you.

His breath hitched, fearing he’d done something wrong with the way your eyes bore into him, cutting through the silence and bringing him to the reality of what you were doing. Joe felt like he could only inhale, nothing coming out when he tried to push his breath away. He swallowed dryly and your expression softened ever so slightly, dropping his hand to instead wrap your digits around his cock and maneuver it to swipe between your folds. The wetness gathered in your sex and on his tip made for easy entry as you lowered yourself slowly, lashes fluttering and mouth falling open. The man choked on a protest but swallowed it with a moan when his head was sheathed in you, warm and tight and ideal.

Joe couldn't focus on anything. It was all happening so fast for him, a blur of skin and sweat. You bounced on him expertly and he fell limp at your abilities, a sputtering mess as your buoyant tits mesmerized him. Your hot, heavy breaths rained down on him and showered him with increased want, but he was unable to act upon it, struck dumb by a higher force, and that force was the look you gave him, accompanied by a breathy sigh and a smile when you settled fully on his shaft. He hadn’t realized but he had been holding his breath as you rose slid down him again, audibly slick and aroused. At that moment, the world vanished from around him, all fuzz and static, and all he knew was you and the way you felt, sleeved around him perfectly, undulating and flexing with an ever subtle thrust of his, impulsive and quick, needy and natural.

Your speed increased suddenly though, and the priest, barely holding on as it was, couldn’t contain himself. Speaking in tongues of love, he groped at you, searching for an anchor to his physical form as an ethereal feeling washed over him, his orgasm imminent and monumental. It was an out of body experience for the servant of the Lord, greater than any religious bliss he’d yet to experience. He could see himself beneath you, his face contorted as yours glowed with elation and he came inside you. He could feel you pulsing around him and heavenly choirs invaded his ears, the stimulation shrouding him in your presence.

What occurred next was warped and surreal. He was still inside you, coming down but still hard and you were still smiling but the air turned sinister and smelled suddenly not of your scent but of sulfur and lavender. You turned into a shadow over him, no longer a source of light, but rather the opposite; a source of darkness. That’s when your skin began to slip from its place on your skull. Melting like wax, he thought, but his comparison was wrong, so wrong because there were no hot drips hitting his stomach and your hands didn’t begin to pool at his bellybutton. No, instead your soft hands turned to leather and the familiar spots of discoloration and sun exposure began to blossom across your shoulders and chest. He could see your veins, one by one, rise up on your skin on your straining legs. Your breasts sagged and your stomach folded over. Your smile went wider as your lips thinned and eye crinkled, every line on your face growing deeper until he felt the first wisps of your fading white hair fall on his legs. Your nails began to dig into his lower stomach as they grew and then he fell the first few cold objects hit his heated skin. One by one, two by two, teeth, rotted black and yellow, bounced off his chest when you leaned forward.

Joe wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Maybe he was already, he couldn't tell. By now he assumed his vocal chord had been removed sometime in the night because, still, nothing came out. He tried, he forced all the air in his lungs out his tense lips like a coastal storm blowing in. He was the winds and the waves and the crashing sounds of ocean on rock and sand as he struggled to break free from the growing weight of the body still on top of him, still around him; shaking, twisting, tears streaming down his red face. You were death holding him down, boney legged and saggy skinned, every part of you being pulled with more strength every second towards your home in hell. He didn’t know what to do with his hands so they flailed at his sides as yours slid up his body with the same disturbing gummy, black smile looming over him and all he wanted at that moment was for it all to stop and disappear.

The sweat on his forehead rolled down the sides of his face and collided with the tears that were apparently seeping down his cheeks as well. The tears were hot and the sweat was cold and Joe’s entire face felt numb and damp, and it was. His whole body was. His undershirt was soaked through and his neck shiny and dotted with perspiration. He shot up out of bed, sitting upright with wide eyes as he shook as he frantically assessed his surroundings. The desk was still messy, his journal still out, the lamp was off, the window closed and the door locked. Fear still seeped through his bloodstream and ran from his face to his toes. It was electric emotion that coursed through his body, one that he couldn’t shake and that left his hair standing on end. It was deep beneath is skin, a nestled sense of discomfort. No amount of his unconscious physical shakes could rid himself of it.

He rocked back and forth on his bed for a while, the images of his dream never leaving his head, haunting him like some cliche victorian ghost. His tremors subsided but he wouldn’t be going back to sleep that not, not after that. The drastic shift had gouged a wedge in his heart, one that was now filled with questions and doubts, second thoughts. The fire in his loins burned brighter and hotter and blacker, smoke rising from it in dangerous, polluting amounts.

Upon the onset of further physical discomfort in the form of a cold patch on his briefs, he opted to spend the rest of his night in the shower, not only washing the shameful premature ejaculate from his underwear, but also his dream from his body, the dream he could only assume was a punishment for his earlier sinful thoughts. On one hand, he was washing her touch away, her soft, sweet, innocent touch that couldn’t be wrong, but on the other hand, the abomination that she’d been warped into left a film over him that didn’t seem to wash off.

Joe believed in signs and symbols. He believed that God spoke to you in natural ways, every day. The advertisement on the bus next to you at that red light this morning or the constant re-emergence of one specific suggestion throughout your day, seeing the same person everywhere you went, it was a message from God. “There are no such things as accidents or coincidences,” he preaches, “everything here God has preordained. It is predestined and meant to be.” He thought of her, meeting her and her timing. “Trust that this is the Lord’s will.”

This must be a sign. He thought of all the examples of prophetic dreams in the Bible, all the times the Lord has used this outlet to speak to his servants. Joseph, Jacob, Daniel, Solomon, Nebuchadnezzar- But what did it mean this time? The object of his unsanctioned affection decaying on top of his, immediately post-coitus. It scared him, the implications of it, but it also scared him that he had the dream at all, if he was honest. It was intense. Not only was it erotic, but also scarring. What did it mean for him and his faith? Part of him wanted to brush it aside and ignore any allusions his subconscious was trying to get to him. He wanted to, for once, turn to science to deny the religious answers to his issue, telling himself it was just a projection of some kind of worry, but that would mean he would have to admit to himself he was worried about her, around her, because of her. He would have to acknowledge the effect she had on him and he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t give in to this moment of weakness, so instead he scrubbed his soiled underpants at three in the morning and tried to wash the nightmare from his mind with Shout and bar shampoo, ignoring the heavy dread building in his chest as the hours counted down to Sunday morning, when he would face his congregation of elders and one woman he couldn’t ban from his mind if he wanted to.

He fell asleep at approximately 4:30 in the morning, face flat on the side of his tub, one hand caked in dried soap and the other clinging desperately to his still clearly stained boxer briefs. He didn’t dream this time, and for the first time he was ever aware of it, he was grateful he didn’t.

#she has a voice!!!#bohemian rhapsody #queen #borhap #bohrhap #joe mazzello #not queen #nut #joe mazzello x reader #priest fic #priest kink #priest! joe mazzello #priest!au #priest #fanfic #reader insert

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kittyramblesalot · 5 years ago

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Everything A Real Estate Agent Doesn't Want You To Know, A Year In Review 2006

Through 2006 I have written a number of articles known as the "Everything A Real Estate Agent Doesn't Want You To Know" series which has long been a consumer oriented series of information to help home purchasers and sellers protect themselves when conducting a real residence transaction. These articles are a natural extension of courses I have written known as "Everything A Real Estate Agent Doesn't Want Your house Buyer To Know" and "Everything A Real Estate Agent Doesn't Really want A Home Seller To Know". The first book written through 1990 was called "Everything A Real Estate Agent Doesn't Want You to definitely Know" and it had a fair degree of national success, extra than I thought it would, when I introduced it towards the media during 1991/92. We sold the book in each state in the U. S. including Alaska, Hawaii and since far as Pakistan and Japan. This was not a damaging performance for a self-published under-funded author. I wrote the book because I was a licensed real estate agent in the talk about of Ohio and, more importantly, I was a readily available mortgage banker for a few years and I saw a large number of home buyers and sellers experience financial damage as a result of dealing with inexperienced and unethical real estate agents. Many of the agents happen to be either totally incompetent or so self interested that they would certainly mislead buyers and sellers, anything to get them to indication a purchase offer or a listing contract. Many of these family home buyers and sellers who were cut through the neck and also didn't even realize they were bleeding because they lacked understanding and insight into how the real estate game is competed. These books have always caused friction between real estate agents and myself because many agents resent the heading of the books and the ill conceived premise that the position is that all agents are bad crooked people today, which is false. In fact , whenever I did a media gig I always made it a point to clarify this is NOT a baby blanket indictment against real estate agents. There are good, honest, knowledgeable, full time mum real estate agents in the business who are highly professional. The problem is they are the particular minority and not the majority. The major problem with the real estate market place as a whole is the ease with which a person can get a realty license. While the educational requirements vary from state to state, normally, anybody can get a license to sell real estate in about 90 days. This just doesn't make sense to me. Consider that many realtors are little old women who operate part-time, do not have business or selling background, go to school for 33 or 90 days and are licensed to represent home owners in property transactions from around $50, 000. 00 and up. I mean, a lawyer has to go to school for more effective years to get a license to write a fifty-dollar will or perhaps represent somebody in a petty traffic accident. But silly-sally can go to school for 30 days and list the $250, 000 house for sale? That does not compute in my thought process. What kind of representation will a seller get from a in someones spare time agent with one toe in the tub? And the full-time pros know what I am talking about. I have had many close interactions with agents while I was in the business and the the important point is that part timers are often the weakest relationship in getting a deal done, unavailable for showings, etc . The bottom line, part time agents give part time results if you are a buyer, seller or a full time agent attempting make a living. And the truth is that most people, especially first time residential buyers and sellers don't know what is going on... not really. How you find an agent to sell a home, the nature of contract law as well as negotiable elements of listing contracts, purchase contracts, etc . will be way beyond most first time buyers and sellers. The actual result is that sellers sign stupid long-term listing agreements with the wrong agents and the wrong companies and individuals pay way more for property then they would if they received more insight into the workings of real estate transactions including commissioned real estate sales agents. I didn't originate the problem, I identified the problems and the solutions for home buyers plus sellers. CAVEAT EMPTOR is legal jargon which means "buyer beware" and it means what it says. Whether you happen to be a home seller or home buyer, you better determine what you are doing when you are making decisions and signing contracts for the reason that, it is your duty to know and ignorance is no alibi under the law. If you do a stupid real estate deal, it will be your fault. Which is a shame because buying or selling a home is actually a BIG business decision. It is a business transaction composed of individuals, emotions, contracts and cash and those are all the compounds for legal and financial pain if you don't know what what you are doing, and most people don't. And how are people likely to get access to this information that will protect their legal and personal interests before they buy or sell a home in any case? THE POWER OF THE NAR OVER GOVERNMENT AND MEDIA The things many people don't know is the National Association of Realtors Ò (NAR) is one of America's largest special interest categories who have incredible lobbying power over our politicians to put in writing real estate laws that benefit the real estate industry, not even consumers. Thus, the caveat emptor clause... state as well as federal real estate laws are written in the interests of this local real estate company and not you. Something else people are un-aware of is the tremendous advertising influence the NAR seems to have over print and electronic media to manipulate the news you will read, hear and see because of their advertising dollar power. There may be an article written by Elizabeth Lesley of the Washington Journalism critique called Demand Happy News And Often Get It and it exposes the corruption and manipulation of the news consumers trust in to make decisions about buying or selling a home. I strongly encourage everyone to read this article. Real estate is like the stock market utilizing some ways. When you hear of a fad like "flipping" you may be probably at the tail end of that gimmick bubble, kind of like the dot. com days... everybody jumped in as they quite simply thought it was hot and it was really the end of the us dot. com bubble. A lot of people have gotten caught with their dirt bike pants down on the flipping angle. Home foreclosures are " up " across the U. S. because real estate agents and the lenders what person cater to them (the real estate industry has tremendous determine over the lending industry because the are the source of so many place loans) have qualified otherwise unqualified borrowers, by positioning them in gimmick loans. In the mad dash for you to milk the market, people have been steered in to interest primarily loans, negative amortization loans or attractive teaser borrowing products like low interest adjustable rate mortgage (ARM) and other mindless financing that is NOT in the best interest of the buyer. Consumers many of the foreclosures are happening. Naïve and gullible individuals were sold a bill of goods based on unrealistic place values. The market got hyped and the agents and providers were right there to exploit buyers and sellers. Does some people make money? Sure. But many people have found themselves with wall with too much "house", too big a payment along with a housing market that looks pretty bleak for a while... All you will need is one ripple in our fragile economy to turn the estate market into a landslide. Here's a news flash: Typically the economy is on shaky ground. The economy has long been kept strong by housing sales and corporate profit margins and both are an illusion. The real measure of typically the economy is durable goods, like automotive sales, which you'll find in the tank causing massive restructuring and layoffs. Individuals can't afford to buy cars because they are scraping the enameled off their teeth trying to make house payments... So , whoever you are, and you read my real estate articles, take into account the reason I have done what I have done, and will perform what I do, is because I am on the side of the consumer. Now i'm on the side of the person who wants to be a better, more up to date consumer. I am on the side of the person who wants to save a handful of thousand on their real estate transaction by being smart and about the more level playing field with real estate agents. And you really know what? By educating people and teaching them how to achieve deals more intelligently, how to weed out the piece timer agents from the pros and save a few dollars in the process, I am actually helping the professional full time providers. The truth is that honest agents won't have a problem with my place because it will get rid of the riff raff.

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klovesyou · 5 years ago

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🌑shadow integration & shadow work.🌑 • • i had zero idea what this meant until a few months ago. i had been doing the work on some level since my late late twenties, but it was never conscious and intentional work until very recently.🥰 • • for me, it’s largely about accepting where i’m at in my ‘now’ (without judging my self), understanding my life long patterns and coping mechanisms (why i formed them and why they show up in my ‘now’), deconstructing and letting go of past identities that my ego attached to (trauma based ones to start, for me it was my identity as a rape survivor first, but now it extends to subtler past identities like ‘people pleaser’), and then holding my self accountable for previous self-abandonment and self loathing. • • after i gain that clarity, it’s time to turn it all around and learn how to integrate self-love, form new habits based on healthy self-care and intentional visions, and get to work with actions that align with who i am ‘now’ and the versions of my self that i look forward to cultivating for my future.👁⚡️🙏�� • • it’s a very non-linear process. and...i recently got a bit arrogant (the ego loves to crawl back on and burden you with suffering), thought i had ended a karmic cycle (one associated with past identities and ego-centric pain) when i hadn’t. i really, really thought i had healed ‘chasing’ mixed messages from emotionally unavailable connections, but damn, i didn’t see that one coming. 🤷🏻‍♀️ the universe put me in my place. 🙏🏽😳😬 • • ‘cause that what happens on the way to aligning with your higher self. you have to keep showing up with conscious intent as a witness to your own behaviors. once you figure out this process for your self though, you’ll raise your vibration. you’ll literally feel lighter and freer, more authentic, and your love for your self will flourish. • • internal validation occurs once you integrate your shadows. external validation as a means to happiness will dissolve because it’s an I L L U S I O N. materialism, relationships, credentialism, competition...none of it will fulfill you for longer than a few moments of time. • • integrating your shadow and loving your self is your truth. https://www.instagram.com/p/B1cZmAJB9tx/?igshid=14mb6sjrczk04

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shumparker1953-blog · 6 years ago

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Weekend Reading, 12.30.18

I've been reading a lot of Pema Chödrön's writings about tonglen practice lately. One quotation of hers keeps sticking with me:

Tonglen practice (and all meditation practice) is not about later, when you get it all together and you're this person you really respect. You may be the most violent person in the world-that's a fine place to start. That's a very rich place to start-juicy, smelly. You might be the most depressed person in the world, the most addicted person in the world, the most jealous person in the world. You might think that there are no others on the planet who hate themselves as much as you do. All of that is a good place to start. Just where you are-that's the place to start.

It seems appropriate to digest those wise words right on the cusp of a new year, when even those of us who don't do much to commemorate NYE get to thinking about endings and beginnings and starting new things.

Actually, though, the quote resonates retrospectively more than prospectively. Starting where I am-treating each new moment as an opportunity to approach life with a fresh perspective-is at the heart of the resilience I've been feeling in the last few weeks, as my hospital rotation wrapped up and I entered the holiday season.

When I was interviewing for DI programs, I was repeatedly told that the most crucial quality in a strong dietetic intern was resilience. It confused me at the time: I was expecting to hear about other traits, like critical thinking, clinical judgment, or empathy.

Now that my first 15 weeks of the DI program are behind me, I know why resilience kept coming up. The year demands constant change. A lot goes into doing the job well while one is at work, but what happens outside of the clinical workday itself-adjusting to new commutes and new communities of patients, being willing to work around each preceptor's schedule, processing information quickly but thoroughly-is equally important. And it's a test of flexibility more than anything else.

Flexibility, of course, is as far from being one of my inborn strengths as anything could be. It's a deficit, actually, but I think the DI is helping me to build it up, little by little. A therapist told me long ago that I'd responded to a lot of stuff in my past by clinging to control, and that this would always be complicated for me, because control had (for better or for worse) become one of my strengths. It was true, and I've spent the last few years of my life working hard to release my grip, soften up, and move with the flow of things. It's good for me, but I do feel robbed of a strength, not to mention frequently disoriented (“thrown out of the nest,” to use another Chödrön expression).

Like anything else, it's a work in progress. Sometimes I flow without trying to. Sometimes I can't lighten up or loosen up at all, and the opportunity to tread lightly is in having a sense of humor about a clingy/grasping/reactive day. What feels really good is when I can move between these states quickly-in other words, when a craggy morning doesn't necessarily become a proverbial “bad day.”

This was, I remember, such a huge struggle for me in ED recovery: flipping my experience around quickly, rather than writing a narrative about how it was going to be a bad day or a bad week because something ugly had happened with food. It took me a while, but I did get to the point where I could struggle midday but feel grounded, balanced, and sane by dinnertime. And, as with so many other things, the skills I learned in ED recovery are now being cultivated in other areas of my life.

The last few weeks of my hospital rotation where chaotic and messy. I felt powerful and competent sometimes, totally overwhelmed at others. In the past, each moment of mess would have gotten drawn out and intensified by my tendency to judge and agonize about struggle as its happening. With the DI in full swing, I didn't have the time to get sucked into that kind of a vortex. I had to bounce back quickly from feeling tripped up, caught off-guard, or overwhelmed.

So I did. When things felt chaotic or messy or rough, I took a few minutes to breathe, to get into my body, to feel sensations. I invited myself to start over. And I invited myself to believe that resilience was possible. Sometimes it felt a little forced. It almost always felt like some version of “fake-it-till-you-make-it.”

But there's a lot of wisdom in “fake-it-till-you-make-it”-or at least in having faith that repeated, small behaviors and actions can sometimes bring about inner change (rather than the other way around). I wasn't always sure that I could shake off a heavy or anxious mood when I invited myself to take a deep breath and move forward as if I could. Most of the time, though, it worked.

I'm now inviting myself to believe that this experience of resilience can stay with me outside of the DI-through early January, and then moving beyond next summer. I'll proceed as if it can, and it will. And as a new year gets underway, what I wish for myself-what I wish for any person who needs it-is faith that each new moment, each new breath, is a chance to begin again. New beginnings don't have to look any particular way, and they don't require preparatory self-improvement. They're an evergreen possibility, and they can take all sorts of tiny, everyday shapes.

As 2019 begins, I'm celebrating any and all opportunities to see and do things differently. And I'm giving thanks for all of the goodness in my life that abides-friends, family, food, and especially my body. I wish you all light, joy, and continual moments of starting anew-on New Year's Eve, and always.

And now, some recipes and reads!

Recipes

What a beautiful concord grape bread, perfectly veganizable with non-dairy milk.

I'm all about cozy winter recipes like this right now: an old-fashioned vegan French onion chowder.

More soup! Tomato barley with all of the cheesy roasted chickpeas.

And now, for some baked goodness, starting with this cozy and creative maple dijon butternut sage & apple bake.

Finally, a lovely vegan winter centerpiece from the talented Thomas: Finnish rutabaga gratin.

Reads

1. HDL cholesterol is regarded as the “good” cholesterol, and a strong body of evidence shows that very low levels HDL are actually associated with an increased risk of heart disease. A new study, though, suggests that very high levels of HDL might also be problematic, which means that the relationship between HDL and cardiovascular disease risk is what's known as a “U-shaped” pattern. This Scientific American blog discusses the interesting findings!

2. One of the most painful, yet often under-discussed consequences of having childhood cancer and cancer treatment is that fertility can be permanently altered. A new cryopreservation procedure-freezing whole parts of an ovary, rather than individual eggs-may give childhood cancer patients hope. The Guardian shares details.

3. On the topic of cancer and other chronic illnesses, The Boston Globe profiles doctors who are working on earlier, more precise detection methods for disease diagnosis.

4. This fall, I witnessed firsthand how important palliative care is for those who need it. As this Washington Post article makes clear, many people in this country can't access palliative care because it's unavailable or uncovered by insurance. The piece gives exposure to a really important healthcare topic.

5. Also from the Washington Posta great perspective on how people can better prepare themselves for the challenges of behavior change. I love the author's differentiation between adopting a habit vs. building a life skill-I tend to think that most changes with food and nutrition fall into the latter category, which is why robust support and patience is so necessary for them to happen!

Happy New Year's, a little early, friends. Sending love. And may all beings living be happy and free.

The post Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 appeared first on The Full Helping.

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oovitus · 6 years ago

Text

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18

I’ve been reading a lot of Pema Chödrön’s writings about tonglen practice lately. One quotation of hers keeps sticking with me:

Tonglen practice (and all meditation practice) is not about later, when you get it all together and you’re this person you really respect. You may be the most violent person in the world—that’s a fine place to start. That’s a very rich place to start—juicy, smelly. You might be the most depressed person in the world, the most addicted person in the world, the most jealous person in the world. You might think that there are no others on the planet who hate themselves as much as you do. All of that is a good place to start. Just where you are—that’s the place to start.

It seems appropriate to digest those wise words right on the cusp of a new year, when even those of us who don’t do much to commemorate NYE get to thinking about endings and beginnings and starting new things.

Actually, though, the quote resonates retrospectively more than prospectively. Starting where I am—treating each new moment as an opportunity to approach life with a fresh perspective—is at the heart of the resilience I’ve been feeling in the last few weeks, as my hospital rotation wrapped up and I entered the holiday season.

Now that my first 15 weeks of the DI program are behind me, I know why resilience kept coming up. The year demands constant change. A lot goes into doing the job well while one is at work, but what happens outside of the clinical workday itself—adjusting to new commutes and new communities of patients, being willing to work around each preceptor’s schedule, processing information quickly but thoroughly—is equally important. And it’s a test of flexibility more than anything else.

Flexibility, of course, is as far from being one of my inborn strengths as anything could be. It’s a deficit, actually, but I think the DI is helping me to build it up, little by little. A therapist told me long ago that I’d responded to a lot of stuff in my past by clinging to control, and that this would always be complicated for me, because control had (for better or for worse) become one of my strengths. It was true, and I’ve spent the last few years of my life working hard to release my grip, soften up, and move with the flow of things. It’s good for me, but I do feel robbed of a strength, not to mention frequently disoriented (“thrown out of the nest,” to use another Chödrön expression).

Like anything else, it’s a work in progress. Sometimes I flow without trying to. Sometimes I can’t lighten up or loosen up at all, and the opportunity to tread lightly is in having a sense of humor about a clingy/grasping/reactive day. What feels really good is when I can move between these states quickly—in other words, when a craggy morning doesn’t necessarily become a proverbial “bad day.”

The last few weeks of my hospital rotation where chaotic and messy. I felt powerful and competent sometimes, totally overwhelmed at others. In the past, each moment of mess would have gotten drawn out and intensified by my tendency to judge and agonize about struggle as its happening. With the DI in full swing, I didn’t have the time to get sucked into that kind of a vortex. I had to bounce back quickly from feeling tripped up, caught off-guard, or overwhelmed.

But there’s a lot of wisdom in “fake-it-till-you-make-it”—or at least in having faith that repeated, small behaviors and actions can sometimes bring about inner change (rather than the other way around). I wasn’t always sure that I could shake off a heavy or anxious mood when I invited myself to take a deep breath and move forward as if I could. Most of the time, though, it worked.

I’m now inviting myself to believe that this experience of resilience can stay with me outside of the DI—through early January, and then moving beyond next summer. I’ll proceed as if it can, and it will. And as a new year gets underway, what I wish for myself—what I wish for any person who needs it—is faith that each new moment, each new breath, is a chance to begin again. New beginnings don’t have to look any particular way, and they don’t require preparatory self-improvement. They’re an evergreen possibility, and they can take all sorts of tiny, everyday shapes.

As 2019 begins, I’m celebrating any and all opportunities to see and do things differently. And I’m giving thanks for all of the goodness in my life that abides—friends, family, food, and especially my body. I wish you all light, joy, and continual moments of starting anew—on New Year’s Eve, and always.

And now, some recipes and reads!

Recipes

What a beautiful concord grape bread, perfectly veganizable with non-dairy milk.

I’m all about cozy winter recipes like this right now: an old-fashioned vegan French onion chowder.

More soup! Tomato barley with all of the cheesy roasted chickpeas.

And now, for some baked goodness, starting with this cozy and creative maple dijon butternut sage & apple bake.

Finally, a lovely vegan winter centerpiece from the talented Thomas: Finnish rutabaga gratin.

Reads

1. HDL cholesterol is regarded as the “good” cholesterol, and a strong body of evidence shows that very low levels HDL are actually associated with an increased risk of heart disease. A new study, though, suggests that very high levels of HDL might also be problematic, which means that the relationship between HDL and cardiovascular disease risk is what’s known as a “U-shaped” pattern. This Scientific American blog discusses the interesting findings!

2. One of the most painful, yet often under-discussed consequences of having childhood cancer and cancer treatment is that fertility can be permanently altered. A new cryopreservation procedure—freezing whole parts of an ovary, rather than individual eggs—may give childhood cancer patients hope. The Guardian shares details.

3. On the topic of cancer and other chronic illnesses, The Boston Globe profiles doctors who are working on earlier, more precise detection methods for disease diagnosis.

4. This fall, I witnessed firsthand how important palliative care is for those who need it. As this Washington Post article makes clear, many people in this country can’t access palliative care because it’s unavailable or uncovered by insurance. The piece gives exposure to a really important healthcare topic.

5. Also from the Washington Posta great perspective on how people can better prepare themselves for the challenges of behavior change. I love the author’s differentiation between adopting a habit vs. building a life skill—I tend to think that most changes with food and nutrition fall into the latter category, which is why robust support and patience is so necessary for them to happen!

Happy New Year’s, a little early, friends. Sending love. And may all beings living be happy and free.

The post Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 appeared first on The Full Helping.

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 published first on

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gardencityvegans · 6 years ago

Text

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18

https://www.thefullhelping.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/weekend_reading.jpg

I’ve been reading a lot of Pema Chodron’s writings about tonglen practice lately. One quotation of hers keeps sticking with me:

Now that my first 15 weeks of the DI program are behind me, I know why resilience kept coming up. The year demands constant change. A lot goes into doing the job well while one is at work, but what happens outside of the clinical workday itself—adjusting to new commutes and new communities of patients, being willing to work around each preceptor’s schedule, processing information quickly but thoroughly—is equally important. And it’s a test of flexibility more than anything else.

The last few weeks of my hospital rotation where chaotic and messy. I felt powerful and competent sometimes, totally overwhelmed at others. In the past, each moment of mess would have gotten drawn out and intensified by my tendency to judge and agonize about struggle as its happening. With the DI in full swing, I didn’t have the time to get sucked into that kind of a vortex. I had to bounce back quickly from feeling tripped up, caught off-guard, or overwhelmed.

And now, some recipes and reads!

Recipes

What a beautiful concord grape bread, perfectly veganizable with non-dairy milk.

I’m all about cozy winter recipes like this right now: an old-fashioned vegan French onion chowder.

More soup! Tomato barley with all of the cheesy roasted chickpeas.

And now, for some baked goodness, starting with this cozy and creative maple dijon butternut sage & apple bake.

Finally, a lovely vegan winter centerpiece from the talented Thomas: Finnish rutabaga gratin.

Reads

1. HDL cholesterol is regarded as the “good” cholesterol, and a strong body of evidence shows that very low levels HDL are actually associated with an increased risk of heart disease. A new study, though, suggests that very high levels of HDL might also be problematic, which means that the relationship between HDL and cardiovascular disease risk is what’s known as a “U-shaped” pattern. This Scientific American blog discusses the interesting findings!

2. One of the most painful, yet often under-discussed consequences of having childhood cancer and cancer treatment is that fertility can be permanently altered. A new cryopreservation procedure—freezing whole parts of an ovary, rather than individual eggs—may give childhood cancer patients hope. The Guardian shares details.

3. On the topic of cancer and other chronic illnesses, The Boston Globe profiles doctors who are working on earlier, more precise detection methods for disease diagnosis.

Happy New Year’s, a little early, friends. Sending love. And may all beings living be happy and free.

[Read More ...] https://www.thefullhelping.com/weekend-reading-12-30-18/

#infrared #health

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davidrmcqueen1985-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18

I've been reading a lot of Pema Chodron's writings about tonglen practice lately. One quotation of hers keeps sticking with me:

And now, some recipes and reads!

Recipes

What a beautiful concord grape bread, perfectly veganizable with non-dairy milk.

I'm all about cozy winter recipes like this right now: an old-fashioned vegan French onion chowder.

More soup! Tomato barley with all of the cheesy roasted chickpeas.

And now, for some baked goodness, starting with this cozy and creative maple dijon butternut sage & apple bake.

Finally, a lovely vegan winter centerpiece from the talented Thomas: Finnish rutabaga gratin.

Reads

3. On the topic of cancer and other chronic illnesses, The Boston Globe profiles doctors who are working on earlier, more precise detection methods for disease diagnosis.

Happy New Year's, a little early, friends. Sending love. And may all beings living be happy and free.

The post Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 appeared first on The Full Helping.

0 notes

oovitus · 6 years ago

Text

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18

I’ve been reading a lot of Pema Chödrön’s writings about tonglen practice lately. One quotation of hers keeps sticking with me:

Now that my first 15 weeks of the DI program are behind me, I know why resilience kept coming up. The year demands constant change. A lot goes into doing the job well while one is at work, but what happens outside of the clinical workday itself—adjusting to new commutes and new communities of patients, being willing to work around each preceptor’s schedule, processing information quickly but thoroughly—is equally important. And it’s a test of flexibility more than anything else.

The last few weeks of my hospital rotation where chaotic and messy. I felt powerful and competent sometimes, totally overwhelmed at others. In the past, each moment of mess would have gotten drawn out and intensified by my tendency to judge and agonize about struggle as its happening. With the DI in full swing, I didn’t have the time to get sucked into that kind of a vortex. I had to bounce back quickly from feeling tripped up, caught off-guard, or overwhelmed.

And now, some recipes and reads!

Recipes

What a beautiful concord grape bread, perfectly veganizable with non-dairy milk.

I’m all about cozy winter recipes like this right now: an old-fashioned vegan French onion chowder.

More soup! Tomato barley with all of the cheesy roasted chickpeas.

And now, for some baked goodness, starting with this cozy and creative maple dijon butternut sage & apple bake.

Finally, a lovely vegan winter centerpiece from the talented Thomas: Finnish rutabaga gratin.

Reads

1. HDL cholesterol is regarded as the “good” cholesterol, and a strong body of evidence shows that very low levels HDL are actually associated with an increased risk of heart disease. A new study, though, suggests that very high levels of HDL might also be problematic, which means that the relationship between HDL and cardiovascular disease risk is what’s known as a “U-shaped” pattern. This Scientific American blog discusses the interesting findings!

2. One of the most painful, yet often under-discussed consequences of having childhood cancer and cancer treatment is that fertility can be permanently altered. A new cryopreservation procedure—freezing whole parts of an ovary, rather than individual eggs—may give childhood cancer patients hope. The Guardian shares details.

3. On the topic of cancer and other chronic illnesses, The Boston Globe profiles doctors who are working on earlier, more precise detection methods for disease diagnosis.

Happy New Year’s, a little early, friends. Sending love. And may all beings living be happy and free.

The post Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 appeared first on The Full Helping.

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 published first on https://storeseapharmacy.tumblr.com

0 notes

oovitus · 6 years ago

Text

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18

I’ve been reading a lot of Pema Chödrön’s writings about tonglen practice lately. One quotation of hers keeps sticking with me:

Now that my first 15 weeks of the DI program are behind me, I know why resilience kept coming up. The year demands constant change. A lot goes into doing the job well while one is at work, but what happens outside of the clinical workday itself—adjusting to new commutes and new communities of patients, being willing to work around each preceptor’s schedule, processing information quickly but thoroughly—is equally important. And it’s a test of flexibility more than anything else.

The last few weeks of my hospital rotation where chaotic and messy. I felt powerful and competent sometimes, totally overwhelmed at others. In the past, each moment of mess would have gotten drawn out and intensified by my tendency to judge and agonize about struggle as its happening. With the DI in full swing, I didn’t have the time to get sucked into that kind of a vortex. I had to bounce back quickly from feeling tripped up, caught off-guard, or overwhelmed.

And now, some recipes and reads!

Recipes

What a beautiful concord grape bread, perfectly veganizable with non-dairy milk.

I’m all about cozy winter recipes like this right now: an old-fashioned vegan French onion chowder.

More soup! Tomato barley with all of the cheesy roasted chickpeas.

And now, for some baked goodness, starting with this cozy and creative maple dijon butternut sage & apple bake.

Finally, a lovely vegan winter centerpiece from the talented Thomas: Finnish rutabaga gratin.

Reads

1. HDL cholesterol is regarded as the “good” cholesterol, and a strong body of evidence shows that very low levels HDL are actually associated with an increased risk of heart disease. A new study, though, suggests that very high levels of HDL might also be problematic, which means that the relationship between HDL and cardiovascular disease risk is what’s known as a “U-shaped” pattern. This Scientific American blog discusses the interesting findings!

2. One of the most painful, yet often under-discussed consequences of having childhood cancer and cancer treatment is that fertility can be permanently altered. A new cryopreservation procedure—freezing whole parts of an ovary, rather than individual eggs—may give childhood cancer patients hope. The Guardian shares details.

3. On the topic of cancer and other chronic illnesses, The Boston Globe profiles doctors who are working on earlier, more precise detection methods for disease diagnosis.

Happy New Year’s, a little early, friends. Sending love. And may all beings living be happy and free.

The post Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 appeared first on The Full Helping.

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 published first on

0 notes

oovitus · 6 years ago

Text

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18

I’ve been reading a lot of Pema Chödrön’s writings about tonglen practice lately. One quotation of hers keeps sticking with me:

Now that my first 15 weeks of the DI program are behind me, I know why resilience kept coming up. The year demands constant change. A lot goes into doing the job well while one is at work, but what happens outside of the clinical workday itself—adjusting to new commutes and new communities of patients, being willing to work around each preceptor’s schedule, processing information quickly but thoroughly—is equally important. And it’s a test of flexibility more than anything else.

The last few weeks of my hospital rotation where chaotic and messy. I felt powerful and competent sometimes, totally overwhelmed at others. In the past, each moment of mess would have gotten drawn out and intensified by my tendency to judge and agonize about struggle as its happening. With the DI in full swing, I didn’t have the time to get sucked into that kind of a vortex. I had to bounce back quickly from feeling tripped up, caught off-guard, or overwhelmed.

And now, some recipes and reads!

Recipes

What a beautiful concord grape bread, perfectly veganizable with non-dairy milk.

I’m all about cozy winter recipes like this right now: an old-fashioned vegan French onion chowder.

More soup! Tomato barley with all of the cheesy roasted chickpeas.

And now, for some baked goodness, starting with this cozy and creative maple dijon butternut sage & apple bake.

Finally, a lovely vegan winter centerpiece from the talented Thomas: Finnish rutabaga gratin.

Reads

1. HDL cholesterol is regarded as the “good” cholesterol, and a strong body of evidence shows that very low levels HDL are actually associated with an increased risk of heart disease. A new study, though, suggests that very high levels of HDL might also be problematic, which means that the relationship between HDL and cardiovascular disease risk is what’s known as a “U-shaped” pattern. This Scientific American blog discusses the interesting findings!

2. One of the most painful, yet often under-discussed consequences of having childhood cancer and cancer treatment is that fertility can be permanently altered. A new cryopreservation procedure—freezing whole parts of an ovary, rather than individual eggs—may give childhood cancer patients hope. The Guardian shares details.

3. On the topic of cancer and other chronic illnesses, The Boston Globe profiles doctors who are working on earlier, more precise detection methods for disease diagnosis.

Happy New Year’s, a little early, friends. Sending love. And may all beings living be happy and free.

The post Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 appeared first on The Full Helping.

Weekend Reading, 12.30.18 published first on https://storeseapharmacy.tumblr.com

0 notes