Food, Exercise, Nature, and Joy: Health in 2022

Last year work, household, caregiving, and grad school obligations became overwhelming. I found it difficult to make time for exercise and cook healthy foods; I also resorted to stress-eating late at night or picking up fast food. I gained about 20lbs before my brain cleared enough in late October to deal with this neglect of my physical state.

Neglected building along my walking route.

I will admit that there was a part of me that had surrendered--an inner voice that told me I would just "get healthy again" after my doctorate was finished. Then, I read the book Die With Zero by Bill Perkins. This personal finance book proposes that many super-saver ways of conceptualizing money for retirement (always "max out" accounts and optimize savings rates) are not the smartest way to approach finances because you could end up very wealthy, but without the time or health to enjoy what you've accumulated. Ultimately, Perkins advocates that money should be used to maximize fulfillment and experiences over time. Although much of his argument would only apply to those with privilege and comfort enough to be saving too much for retirement and there were some ableist tropes that have been called out on Twitter, I found the book shook me out of a money and health script that had me making bad tradeoffs. Perkins framed our mortality and the decline of our abilities and interests with age in a manner that made me realize how problematic it was for me to wait until some other part of my life is done to care for my health. I want to be able to enjoy my life--now and in the future--and neglecting health is probably the main guarantee that I'm stealing from my future enjoyment. (His book also made me relax a lot about retirement contributions and add life-fulfillment goals into my financial plan, which I really needed to do.)

Noticing a woodpecker on a nature walk.

I reckoned with the fact that I'd been "trying" to lose the weight I'd gained without success on my own; I rejoined WW, which has helped me lose weight in a healthy way in the past, I also recommitted to daily movement that I love--choosing to focus on all the ways I enjoy moving (dancing, walking, hiking, swimming, yoga...) instead of trying to force myself to do exercise I thought I "should" be doing (like jogging and weightlifting). I'm also conceptualizing wellness more broadly by paying attention to the quality of my relationships, prioritizing interactions with friends and family that bring me joy, and trying to spend time in nature really enjoying it.

J is very proud of learning how to solve Rubik's cubes after watching Youtube videos.

Even through the holidays and the stress of Omicron, I have been able to reconnect with the actions and habits that make me feel energized and strong. I have lost about 8 lbs., eaten less fast food and snacks, and exercise nearly daily. I feel much better! Right now, I am enjoying the 30 Day Yoga Journey MOVE from Adriene Mishler. On Twitter, a group of mostly women from my personal finance blogger friends keep me accountable as we cheer each other on with the hashtag #pfyogacrew (anyone is welcome to join in the fun!). I'm remembering not just how much yoga is lovely for meditation and stretching, but it really develops strength and stability. I think I would like to keep up with this as a daily practice beyond the 30 Day challenge.

How are you staying healthy through this difficult time?

Colonialism, Education, and Hope: Reflections on MLK Day 2022

"We in the West must bear in mind that the poor countries are poor primarily because we have exploited them through political or economic colonialism." --Martin Luther King, Jr.

In my doctoral program, we're learning about the different theoretical lenses that researchers use in educational research. One of the reasons to consider theoretical lenses is to understand that what we believe about the creation of knowledge impacts what kinds of knowledge we can explore as researchers. Since my program is committed to social justice and equity, we include critical theories in our study--including Critical Race Theory, Intersectionality, and Queer Studies. While these concepts have taken some heat from the right, they are really interesting to study. One of the concepts that I've encountered in my studies is the extent to which the lens of settler colonialism permeates the thinking, research, and structures of education.

Although I had a vague understanding of colonialism from my studies of history in school, my understanding was always that the bad parts of colonialism was something that happened a long time ago or in far away lands. Sure, it was reawakened by the Monroe doctrine and then rhetorically evoked in science fiction I loved as a child (THE FINAL FRONTIER!), but weren't some concepts of exploration and discovery the very foundations of science--exploring the unknown?

But settler colonialism asks: "Unknown to whom?" "Explore for what?" "Who benefits from this interaction?" So many of my questions for educational research are simple questions students already know the answers to, but the academy has not included their perspectives in "empirical studies," and so the knowledge they possess about education is not acknowledged. But if every student knows and understands that the system of testing we have right now is torture, then it's fairly presumptuous of us to have to "prove" the harms.

In the last year, between my graduate studies and increased reading of Native American writers (including Angeline Boulley, Tommy Orange, and--my new favorite--Louise Erdrich), I'm starting to see that the harms of colonialism are ongoing and continuous. That many of the ideals I value in American culture--self-reliance, individualism, creative use of resources, thirst for knowledge--are predicated on the fact that my European ancestors saw the world as theirs for the taking and exploring (and exploiting). That my husband's country was shaped first by the forcible colonization of Korea by Japan and then the de-facto Cold War colonization of the American army. That the "adventure" I loved about traveling to different countries and experiencing other cultures came at a cost to the people and lands I visited.

The trouble of course is, I'm not entirely sure what to do with this knowledge. I love to travel, but the more I learn about the carbon footprint of commercial flights, the more unethical it feels. I want to visit Hawaii and Puerto Rico, but the problematic ways twentieth century U.S. annexed these lands without the support of the indigenous populations, in part because they represent a kind of fantastical, exotic travel for Americans, gives me pause. I can't even think about my own time in Korea as an English teacher without understanding the complex ways that was another kind of colonization project, albeit ones Koreans themselves submit to in order to gain global power.

More troubling perhaps still is the colonial project of public education that continues in 2022. Again, Covid has us asking: "What are schools--warehouses for children so their parents can be participants in the economy or places of academic instruction or social welfare programs for reducing inequity?" (HINT: They are all of these things, none of these, and more.) "Who benefits from schools closing? From staying "open"?" And so on. Some of these questions are public health questions, sure, but they have revealed to me a troubling narrative I believe that public education is capable of (and should) "save" children by helping them navigate the norms of our society successfully. And what is that but a demand for assimilation by another name?

I'm thinking about this today, on a great day for reflecting about injustice, because the first writer who helped me understand the deep connections between all kinds of injustice and harms in this world was Dr. King.  His ability to see how the evils of capitalism, racism, and militarism were interconnected to exploit and suppress others allowed me to understand that there is no single injustice more important than others. What I am most inspired by is his ability to not only see the evils in the world, but to continue to believe it could get better. Sometimes, I really wonder if it can.

I don't have any answers here. I try to do what I can, where I can, but times like these, it can seem overwhelming and that there are no good choices. So instead, I will lean into Dr. King's hope and advice for persistence:

"For all of us today, the battle is in our hands. The road ahead is not altogether a smooth one. There are no broad highways to lead us easily and inevitably to quick solutions. We must keep going." --MLK

Appreciation for the Calm

Starting 2022 amidst the most widespread outbreak of a 2+ year pandemic has ironically led to a slowing down and calm pace for my life. We've been lucky enough to avoid infection thus far, so now that the rates of Covid transmission and hospitalizations are higher than they've ever been, we've elected to reduce the number of activities we are engaging in at present as a mitigation strategy. The kids are still going to school and taekwondo (masked, thankfully), Min is doing whatever shopping we need, and I am going in person to work most days of the week and taking my Mom to doctor's appointments, but we've mostly curtailed other activities. Even though there is no government mandate to refrain, we find it prudent at this time.

Water always makes me feel peaceful. This is the Monocacy River near our home.

For me, this means no gym classes, no dining out, and no gatherings indoors. What's strange this time is that it seems as though very few other people are limiting some of their activities, despite the fact that our hospital is operating in crisis mode and our school staffs are dealing with absentee rates so high that we are discussing possible short-term contingency plans for in-person instruction. The local college I work with has already decided to stay fully remote with virtual instruction through February 6. There's no guidance to help the public in how to navigate what's happening now, and the CDC Director was describing it as "encouraging" that people like me with immune suppression and diabetes are the people that are dying from this round of infection. I digress...

The kids decided to prepare us breakfast for our anniversary (12 years--WOW). It was quite sweet.

Far from feeling deprived and adrift as I did in the early weeks of March and April 2020, I feel an ease of slipping back into the routines and joys we discovered when the whole world shut down. I find myself grateful for the beautiful nature in our neighborhood on my walks, for the free yoga challenge online, for a wonderful dance instructor still having Sunday Zoom workouts, for more time to play board games with my kids and cook healthy meals. I have enjoyed more time to rest and read, dig into my grad classes, write in this blog.

My little snow bunny.

I feel a kind of contented ease that I don't really recall enjoying in the past. Perhaps, I have just become more comfortable with existing in the present moment and enjoying the company of my family. Maybe I like the excuse to ruthlessly cut nonessentials from my life. Or maybe it was the first huge snowstorm of the year which always makes the world look brand new. Whatever it is, I like it. I'm going to try to cultivate this essentialist approach to my time and enjoyment.

Here's a little hope into the world that we can stay healthy and joyful, even if the world feels like it's conspiring to keep us from those things.