My Sugarless 30 Days

I’m on Day 4 of my No Sugar for 30 Days challenge.  It’s one of my major weaknesses.  I’m not a coffee drinker, a smoker, I don’t watch a lot of television, and I’m just as comfortable without a phone.  It’s sugar that gets me every time; chocolate being my particular weakness.  I sometimes joke during my travels that I’m too cheep to spend money on my well-being with things like a quality bed or a decent meal, but give me some local sweets to try...that’s money worth spending.

I have heard of a few friends doing cleansing or different diets to reboot their bodies.  Talking with my friend Mary while back in the States is what brought this idea to the forefront recently.  Thank you girl!!  The no sugar cleanse is probably the one that intrigued me the most but I always had an excuse of why now wasn’t a good time to start.  Well after recently eating about 3 packages of Tim Tams in about the same number of days, I realized NOW was the only time to start anything.  Yesterday is too late and tomorrow never seems to get here.  

So no more yummy goodness like this for a while!

So on October 4th I decided to go 30 days without ingesting any sugar.  My only caveat was I would be allowed a small amount of honey as I use it to sweeten my morning yogurt and my primary focus is on processed sugar.  I also realized later that day how impeccable my timing was (as my mother also immediately pointed out).  My birthday is next month and the 30 days will end just beforehand.  Nobody denies Kira cake on her birthday.  Not even Kira.  ::chuckle::

I’m curious to see how this challenge with affect me both physically and psychologically.  It’s interesting so far in realizing how sometimes I want sugar simply because it’s a different flavor than my main meals.  Or because my brain tells me it’s more satisfying than other healthier snacks, but actually I always want more even when I’m full.  I didn’t get rid of all the sugar in the house.  I still have one more unopened package of Tim Tams (salted caramel YUM!) and my roommate made chocolate beetroot cake which has been staring me in the face the last two mornings while I have my bowl of healthy yogurt, fruit, and muesli.  ::sigh::  I actually had a dream last night I ate some sweets at a bakery only to realize halfway through an eclair what I’d done.  ::shudder::

...or this!  :-(

Wish me luck on this 30 day adventure, and if you want to be no-sugar buddies for the month just let me know!!

**Please note: All photos are property of Kira Zebroski**

Onward and upward

I’m sitting in an airport yet again waiting for my first of two flights which will take me back to Australia.  In a small part of my brain, I’m worrying if the flight will be delayed, if my baggage will come quickly, if I’ll make it through security once again in time for my second flight, if I’ll make it through customs with my double passport.

But the majority of my focus is directed towards these past 6 weeks.  Or rather, focusing on not focusing on it.  I can visualize the mass of emotions and memories this ‘US tour’ has both created and brought up.  I know I need to process this experience and yet I feel myself shying away from it.  The desire to put it all in a box to deal with later.

This whole trip has been about moving, catching up, shifting, shedding...

Crap, I’m still not ready to get a piece out about this trip.  I had this grand plan of some sort of post that would be eloquent and fun and thoughtful.  I’m just not ready to deal with all the emotions and memories. I am actually rather looking forward to arriving in Sydney simply so I can sit and not go anywhere. Take the time to decompress and process. I'll try and get something out afterwards.

For now I just want to thank everyone I was able to see. For the new friends I've made, the friendships I've renewed, and those that have strengthened. I'm so incredibly blessed to have each and everyone of you in my life. Thank you for making this trip so special and just what I needed. I love you all!!

Smores and cuddles with my little nephews

**All pictures are property of Kira Zebroski**

Just an update: I've made it safely from WI to LAX and about to board my final flight to Sydney. It was a close call with some passport issues. Like I wasn't allowed on the plane for a bit. But all is well. ::knock on wood:: It's never a dull moment with the Monkey!! ::grin::

Global Underscore

I feel so calm at peace right now.  Grounded.  I’d gone to the Global Underscore in Buffalo, my first global one, and the journey over those 4 hours was intensely beautiful.  I came in feeling rather drained and not sure how much I wanted to be near people.  Which is an interesting headspace to be in when you’re going to be doing contact improvisation.

These last couple weeks and the last few days in particular have been both amazing and overwhelming.  I knew coming back to the US would be a process.  The culture shock alone knocked me on my ass.  And then there’s the personal reaction with friends and family.  Life has continued on without me; dynamics have changed.  It’s all for the better but still an adjustment.  So much being thrown at me that the energy to deal is taking its toll.  I have to make sure my self-care is strong and consistent.

So back to the Global Underscore.  I arrived in the space unsure how my current emotional state and the environment would mesh.  I requested during opening circle to have some personal grounding time (a chance to arrive in the space) before we began triad body work.  The group was incredibly open and receptive to the ideas being given.  It allowed me a feeling of safety and acceptance as I explored my reactions.

The Underscore was grounding, allowing me to release into the moment.  Initially my body felt so heavy.  How do I work with movement in relation to this physical (and probably emotional) state?  This was first my struggle and then my triumph.  To release into what the body was feeling.  Demanding.  Forcing no movement and keeping it authentic to inner and outer stimuli.  

As I found the balance of grounding myself and relating to others in the space through a safe connection, I explored point of contact more than I ever had before.  Many of my dances in the past center around the push and pull of weight bearing.  There is more tumbling, lifting, posting, jumping...instead this became the hand dance using my entire body.  There was more exploration of the space between contact.  It continued to be dynamic which initially surprised me.

Throughout the jam there was also a recurring motion of shaking and tapping.  Stimulating shaking in others, tapping the ground, creating energy currents through multiple bodies.  It would rise and fall in diads and triads with others from the Underscore joining in for moments.  It reminded me of kundalini meditation aka the shaking meditation.  The idea of shaking your body to drum up energy, drum out thought, and just be present in your body with this sole action.

At the end of the session, I found myself more energetic and present in my space.  I wasn’t ready to run a marathon, but I felt filled.  Satiated.  I feel truly blessed to have been part of this group for the Global Underscore.  The safe container allowed me to release myself into the space.  To be truly authentic in the exploration my body’s reactions throughout this process.  Thank you everyone who was a part of this.  I am so incredibly grateful.

A glimpse of our Global Underscore setup

**Please note all photos are property of Kira Zebroski**

Chocolate Cake for Breakfast

It’s taken me a long time to post this particular piece.  I’ve come back to it periodically, but I was just never sure how to end it.  A good friend of mine pointed out the lack of a resolution.  She (and I) often write things out because we don’t have a resolution for whatever is on our minds.  Blogs need to have a resolution, a closing argument if you will.  So maybe this is why I’ve never finished it.  How can I finish something that has no conclusion?  No happy ending?  No ending at all?  So end it with a question, she suggested.  And I will.

October 10, 2015

I was eating chocolate cake today and a guy in my group made a joke about eating chocolate cake for breakfast.  Did I understand the reference, he asked.  Of course!  I still remember watching the standup of Bill Cosby with my family and the bit about feeding chocolate cake to his kids for breakfast.  The next question was if I thought Bill Cosby was really a pedophile.  Immediate response was No, he was a rapist; all of the women he raped were adults.  The guy then wanted to know if I thought it was all a “conspiracy theory.”  I don’t believe so and it made me frustrated to hear people think that.  When you have more than 35 women come forward with their stories, at what point do you finally believe them?  Should it even take more than one?  And then to have Cosby admit that he gave women Quaaludes to make them more pliable for sex.  Really?  And you still doubt them??  He seemed surprised by these facts.

The conversation then lead into consent and the mentality of sex then versus now.  He felt today’s society was more “prudish.”  This was his example of why.

Back then, a woman would smile at a man across the bar and he would think she was interested.  He’d come over to talk, see if anything connected, and maybe go home together.  Nowadays, if a woman smiles and you come over to talk to her, she’ll just lose her shit at you.  Tell you how dare you come over and assume she was interested.  It can go into ruining her evening and just all out of proportion.

This comparison doesn’t work because the difference of then versus now was the social support to say “I’m not interested.”  There’s more communication about consent and when it doesn’t happen.  In both cases, the woman may not be interested but back then, it was much more difficult to speak up.  Women would just go along with it.  This is the issue with the women coming forward about Cosby raping them.  Rape wasn’t something you talked about years ago.  Even in my family history, I learned about this social mentality and the effects on those it happens to.  

Yes, but it’s getting blown all out of proportion, he argued.  You know how football players smack each other on the ass after touchdowns?  One day, one of the guys is going to claim sexual assault because one of his teammates smacked him on the ass.  We’re going to have a big, tall football player claiming sexual assault.  This would just look ludicrous!  And my response is Why?  Why is it crazy?  Because he’s supposed to be big and tough?  That sexual assault only happens to women?  Men, women, anyone can be sexually assaulted.  It doesn’t have to be just sex; it can be touching and making lewd comments.  We don’t hear about rape, outside of it happening to women, very often but it does still happen.  Consent is universal.  And socially acceptable behavior does not equal right behavior.   I don’t believe society is becoming more prudish.  Rather, I believe the conversation about consent and being supported to be vocal when consent isn’t given has changed.  

I found a book written in the 60’s called The Art of Kissing.  It was geared towards instruction for males on how to kiss and included a rather disturbing section on how to first kiss a girl.  As the evening was ending, you should get the girl on the couch and position it so she is on the end so as to better keep her from getting up once you make your intentions known.  (I swear I’m not making this up.  I’ve read this section to so many friends, I practically have it memorized)  Find a way to position your arm over the back of the couch and down to her shoulders.  Use the typical yawn move or adjust the seat cushion. (and now for the kicker)  When you try to kiss a girl and she tries to get up, don’t worry.  Simply guide her back down to the couch and make your intentions clear.  If she tries to get up and cries out, don’t worry.  If she tries to get up, cries out, and starts to scratch at you, then start to worry.  This girl is not to be trifled with.  (And not because she’s not interested in kissing or any other sexual activity, oh no!)  This kind of girl still thinks babies are a result of kissing and isn’t ready to kiss.  

::face palm::

Is it really a surprise then, with material like this circulating, that women didn’t come forward about being raped?  And something like this doesn’t just go away.  It sticks with you.  Along with all the self-doubt, wondering if you had it coming.  If you could have done something different to stop it.  To be able to share your story takes so much courage because even with all the progress we’ve made, people are still met with victim-blaming and doubt.

I remember the first time a guy touched me inappropriately.  I was 14 and walking with my friend at a teen night event at the local amusement park.  A guy walked up behind us, grabbing my ass and putting his hand down my friend’s shirt.  He tried to talk with us, but we ran off and found my brother.  We told the police and I believe they talked to the guy, but nothing went beyond that point.  I remember crying; I felt so dirty.  And I kept wondering if I’d somehow been asking for it.  Had my clothes been too revealing?  I had been wearing jeans and a spaghetti strap top with the American flag on it.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned how to “protect” myself.  Carrying around pepper spray.  Putting keys between my fingers to use as a weapon when walking to my car.  Knowing that a pair of heels can be scraped down the shin if I get grabbed from behind.  Not making eye contact or in any way acknowledging catcalls or whistles.  Understanding that walking away is sometimes better when someone tries to cop a feel.  Laughing and smiling until I can get away because it’s safer than straight up saying No.  Pretending to have a boyfriend because it’s the only way some will back off.

Sometimes I stop and think Why did I need to learn these things?  How did I learn them?  Who taught me?  From a self defense class in Girl Scouts.  From a friend’s boyfriend who didn’t like the neighborhood I was living in.  From conversations with other women.  From social media.  From people-watching.  From personal experience.  And each of these lessons came with a price.

A few months ago I learned another lesson.  I free wrote a short paragraph afterwards and this is what came out.

A lot of times I let it brush off with the comments, but we'd as a group (several older gentlemen....or at least I thought they were) got into talking about how women are treated.  And how they should be given respect but aren't always treated as such.  And it was a shame and how can things change?  And then later one whispered how he had just one thing he'd like to know.  "how I tasted and if he'd get a chance."  He's married and traveling with his wife and a daughter a little younger than me.  And when another guy arrived (about my age) who was drunk and getting a bit belligerent, I saw them talking together.  I thought the older man was trying to calm the young one down.  Instead I heard him trying to coach the guy on how to get with me.  The guy also has a girlfriend.  A wonderful gal who later showed up looking for him because he'd just disappeared from their bungalow.  Anyway, hearing the older guy tell him things like "if you don't want to get with her, then I will." and "just look at her, you know what that's for?"  I just felt so dirty.  Called them out on it after everyone had left and it didn't perturb them at all.  Told them I could hear them and that I wasn't a piece of meat and they both have their partners waiting for them back at their rooms.  So torn with wanting to rip into them but they're guests here and while it doesn't excuse the behavior, I didn’t know if I could count on the support of my boss and not wanting to make a scene.  Realizing I wish I could have torn them a new one but calmly and I was just so hurt and angry.

My first year at Burning Man, there was an art installation called Truth is Beauty by Marco Cochrane.  It was this beautiful statue of a woman arching her back.  Around the base of the statue (she was more than 50 feet tall) was the question “What would the world be like if all women were safe?” written in many different languages.  There was a podium in front with a book of blank pages.  People had written their thoughts on the piece and the message it gave.  Me, I just sat on the Playa dust and stared up at her or at the foot of her, well...feet and watched her body change to different colors in the darkness.  What WOULD the world be like if all women were safe?  If we felt safe and confident enough to walk down a street with our heads held high but not surrounded by ice in our every step?  If we could dress however we wanted simply because it makes us feel beautiful and not second guessing if others will read it as an open invitation.   If we could just be present at any given moment and not constantly monitoring if the surroundings are safe, if the men around us could overpower us, if our words or actions could be misconstrued, if anyone would help should we need it.  If we as women could own into our power and not feel the need to stifle parts of ourselves because they are viewed as too forward, too unfeminine, too strong, just Too.

Photo Property of Kira Zebroski

What would the world be like if all women were safe?

And how do we make that happen?

And here are some links to articles I've found very helpful in stimulating a conversation:

Next Time Someone Says Women are Victims of Harassment, Show Them This

The Thing All Women Do That You Don't Know About

Shaving a head

So every once in a while, I feel the need to change things up.  And one of the ways to symbolize or even instigate that change is to do it physically.  As I'm not a huge fan of needles, tattoos and piercings aren't really my thing.  Instead I have my hair.  ::grin::  For many years, I've had really long hair, but with it being almost always up, the length is sometimes unknown by those around me.  Case in point: I once cut off about a foot of hair and a lot of people didn't notice right away including my Mom.  I still love you!!  ::chuckle::

Anyway, I've been itching to shake things up over the last few months.  I saw a girl walk past while sitting in a cafe on Koh Tao and she had a great mohawk hairstyle.  I'd seen variations of it around the islands but it hadn't really interested me.  Now...hmmm....Let's do it!  It's edgy and outside my comfort zone.  Perfect for my restless feeling.  Two nights later I was sitting in front of my dive shop with a friend and her husband's electric razor.

Making the first cut!

Can you feel the excitement?!

I'm so pretty!!

 I was grinning the entire time.  The owner of the dive shop would walk by and just shake his head.  I would like to point out I was sober.  I didn't have a beer until after we'd started cutting.  ::wink::  I happen to have a videochat with my Mom right afterwards and was really excited for her reaction.  What a let down; she hardly blinked.  But she did make a good point.  I've already dyed my hair purple and blue, left everything behind to backpack around the world, climbed questionable things at Burning Man, and made it through a hospital visit in Thailand.  Shaving part of my head wasn't even a blip anymore.  ::laugh::

I decided to first only shave a section of my head.  Work my way up to a full mohawk.  I liked the initial section.  I felt a bit punk and playful.  I was ready for my next adventure.  Over the next two months, I got my dive master and then started nannying for a family in KL.  I began feeling stagnant and ready for the next step.  Not just the next step.  I was ready to dive in head first, if you pardon the pun.  I'd been feeling, well, I'm not sure how to describe it.  I want to say unfeminine but it was more being asexual.  I didn't feel comfortable and confident in my own body.  I was stuck in a rut and having an overwhelming need to breakout.  Getting rid of all this hair would get rid of so much weight.  I once had a coworker tell me that my hair calmed my personality down; short hair would put that energy in people's faces.  She wasn't sure everyone could handle all that Kira.  I laughed at the time, but right now with this feeling of my personality being stifled I needed to get rid of anything blocking me.

In KK, just after I arrived.

Right before the big change.

I looked through numerous photos online and eventually fell in love with a look.  I was ready!  Now I just needed to get to someone who could cut it and have the money to pay for it.  Not as easy as that sounds.  Until one afternoon it just all came together.  Well, sort of.  The family and I were walking around a shopping area and saw a salon giving 15RM haircuts but only on the weekdays.  It's Saturday.  But then they remembered there was a barber just down the road who cut hair for the same price.  We'd already discussed that with the haircut I wanted, a barber could do it just as well as a stylist.  And I needed it cheap!



But of course it wouldn't be a Kira-story without adding some obstacles.  First I couldn't access the picture of the haircut because the internet connection was wonky.  Then it wouldn't download the picture so I tried to find it by searching online but remember what I said about going through a lot of photos?  Finally got the bright idea to message my friend back in the States I'd sent to the picture to and hope she was awake at 1am her time and could download the picture and send it through What's app.  Yeah...that happened.  ::laugh::

So armed with my picture and my purse, I headed to the barber.  Should have known this would be an experience as well.  It was in a back hallway of a mall with 3 little stations.  You put money in a machine and was given a card with a number.  When your number was called, a guy with a face protector would sit you down and prep you for your haircut with some toilet paper around the neck (not that unusual, I know) and the cape thing (no, I have no idea what it's called).

Getting in line

I loved every minute of it.  I couldn't stop grinning as he cut, shaved, and trimmed the majority of my hair off my head.  He was meticulous.  It was like watching a clockmaker make sure the gears worked juuuuust right.  I could feel so many of my worries, insecurities, and self-doubts lighten as my hair fell to the floor.  I got goosebumps as I watched the reflection of my transformation.

And then out came the vacuum.  I kid you not.  There was a vacuum hose attached to the wall.  He put it right to my head and sucked up all the little bits of hair on my scalp and around my neck and ears.  To go back to how good this barber was, he checked my haircut as he cleaned and ended up trimming a few spots.  Which meant he had to vacuum one more time.  And then I got a scalp massage as he styled my hair and adjusted strands just so with his fingers.  Talk about getting your money's worth!

A mother and her daughter came in just as he was finishing with me.  I was grinning from ear to ear and playing with my new do.  I saw her reflection in the mirror as she assessed and judged this new ?unfeminine? look and said "did you ask him to do that?"

"Yes ma'am, I did.  And I love it!!"

And it reminded me the importance of doing things for yourself.  As long as you love you, what does it matter of others opinions?  Especially something as malleable and impermanent as hair.  And so I walked away with a new jaunt in my step and swing in my hips.  I can't say I felt more feminine.  I don't think the cut makes me look girly.  I just felt new, fresh.  Like I'd sloughed off all the dead skin and was bright and shiny with a chance to make new choices.  And it floored me that something as simple as cutting my hair could have such an effect on me.  But I rejoiced in the simplicity of being able to get to that point.  And I look forward to making this energy snowball into bigger and better things.  You've gotta start somewhere.  This time for me, it started at the top of my head.

SO

MUCH

LOVE!!!

Side view

Da' back

I love this new do.  All I need is to figure out how to get the full-out mohawk and I'm good to go.  I'll update the post when I get some hair wax.  YEY!!!!

**Please Note: All photos are property of Kira Zebroski**