Listen my children and you shall hear....
In fifth grade my class had to learn the poem, "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere."
After 42 years I still remember it.
A lesson learned well is never forgotten.
For months I have been hanging on to about ten pounds of fat. They are the last of my symptoms of my long time habit of using food as medication. Each day when I look in the mirror I see each of those pounds and know in my heart they are holding me back from reaching my full potential as a healthy and happy adult.
Not all foods will work to comfort me...but certain ones will take the edge off of stress, feelings of self-doubt, anger.
Unfortunately--the "medication" wears off quicky and the problems come back with a vengence.
As a child of alcholics I learned at an early age that food would always be there for me...when childhood family and friends couldn't or wouldn't. One of my earliest memories was a wish to have enough money to buy a cake mix to bake my own cake and eat every piece!
As a young adult on my own--I never deprived myself of the foods I craved. I heard once that a person is allergic to the things they crave...these cravings feed an addiction to the very things that make you sick. It's a deadly cycle.
Today I am working hard to replace my addiction with a much healthier one. An addiction to health...via exercise, good nutrition and the power of positive thinking.
I am also working to accept the love and support of my adult family. But old habits die hard.
Limiting my comfort foods to BODY FOR LIFE free days has helped enormously over the past year. However---I am still holding on to those last ten pounds of fat.
It's time to drop the addiction and the last little layer of protection held over from my childhood.
So far, I have turned my back on Ice cream. I still have to put cookies and chocolate in their rightful place. (Anywhere but near my mouth!)
I used to think that my addiction to comfort foods wasn't as bad as alcohol or drugs...food is everywhere and its legal.
But now realize that certain foods are as destructive as any street drug or three day drunk.
"On the 18th of April in '75..hardly a man is now alive who remembers that day or year...."
Learning is a lifetime process. Learning isn't easy. But once a lesson is learned we never forget. But the best part---we can learn new lessons to replace the outdated and obsolete ones of our childhood.
After 42 years I still remember it.
A lesson learned well is never forgotten.
For months I have been hanging on to about ten pounds of fat. They are the last of my symptoms of my long time habit of using food as medication. Each day when I look in the mirror I see each of those pounds and know in my heart they are holding me back from reaching my full potential as a healthy and happy adult.
Not all foods will work to comfort me...but certain ones will take the edge off of stress, feelings of self-doubt, anger.
Unfortunately--the "medication" wears off quicky and the problems come back with a vengence.
As a child of alcholics I learned at an early age that food would always be there for me...when childhood family and friends couldn't or wouldn't. One of my earliest memories was a wish to have enough money to buy a cake mix to bake my own cake and eat every piece!
As a young adult on my own--I never deprived myself of the foods I craved. I heard once that a person is allergic to the things they crave...these cravings feed an addiction to the very things that make you sick. It's a deadly cycle.
Today I am working hard to replace my addiction with a much healthier one. An addiction to health...via exercise, good nutrition and the power of positive thinking.
I am also working to accept the love and support of my adult family. But old habits die hard.
Limiting my comfort foods to BODY FOR LIFE free days has helped enormously over the past year. However---I am still holding on to those last ten pounds of fat.
It's time to drop the addiction and the last little layer of protection held over from my childhood.
So far, I have turned my back on Ice cream. I still have to put cookies and chocolate in their rightful place. (Anywhere but near my mouth!)
I used to think that my addiction to comfort foods wasn't as bad as alcohol or drugs...food is everywhere and its legal.
But now realize that certain foods are as destructive as any street drug or three day drunk.
"On the 18th of April in '75..hardly a man is now alive who remembers that day or year...."
Learning is a lifetime process. Learning isn't easy. But once a lesson is learned we never forget. But the best part---we can learn new lessons to replace the outdated and obsolete ones of our childhood.
posted by M. | 11:04 AM
1 Comments:
Paul Revere's Ride
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
----------------------------
Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.
He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."
Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.
Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.
A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.
It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.
It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.
You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
>From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.
So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.
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