Banana Smoothie

I’m mid-way through a banana smoothie. Banana, peanut butter, and coconut milk. Its simplicity an utter delight. Airy complexion. Light texture. And yet, today, this smoothie is carrying a heavy weight. I’m really struggling to finish the latter half of this frozen concoction, because I’m not sure I needed it in the first place. I ordered it shortly after finishing my iced oat milk matcha latte, galette with butter, cheese, ham, & 2 eggs (a friend once counseled me to “always add the egg”, so, if the dish already includes 1 egg, I ask for 2, because a lil extra protein never hurt nobody), and yogurt bowl that includes granola, raisins, banana, peanut butter, and mango. Yeah, you read that right. Not long after finishing a dairy-based bowl that featured banana & peanut butter as the all-star players in the recipe’s starting lineup, I decided it was necessary to order a coconut-based smoothie that relied on the Shaq & Kobe duo of banana & peanut butter to, once again, put the Blend Team on their shoulders. (Update & Spoiler Alert: I just finished aforementioned smoothie immediately before writing this sentence.) Why do I mention this? To shame my most-unforgivable sin of gluttony? Nah… feels unnecessary. Recently, I’ve been practicing something new: handing over all the shame I’ve been so conditioned to feel whenever I “fall short” of some imaginary, unexamined standard of perfection. Instead, I’m mentioning this banana smoothie because the whole act of ordering it has piqued my curiosity. Why did I feel the need to order this banana smoothie in the first place? Don’t get me wrong — it’s utterly delicious. I was dreaming about what I’d order at the cafe shortly after I woke up this morning. I settled on the idea of a banana smoothie eventually. I wasn’t sure what else would round out my order, but I was convinced that a banana smoothie ought to be part of it (a matcha latte was the runner-up odds-on favorite). Because the banana smoothie is a statement piece of the breakfast experience. (Pay no mind to the fact that it’s now 3:42 in the afternoon as I write this sentence… well now 3:43, but who’s staring at the clock when they ought to be working counting anyways? The traditional “Breakfast” ought to be eaten before noon at the very latest. Heck! Most would probably consider “Breakfast” time over by the time the clock strikes 11 (maybe even 10 in some jurisdictions). Any time after the double-1’s enters into “Brunch” territory. That said, “Brunch” doesn’t clearly define a DMZ of its own. Does it lay claim to 9am? Or is that still well-within the Breakfast border? Is Brunch just a way of sidestepping the guilt that’d otherwise be felt after sleeping in, mozying about all morning, stubbornly — and quite successfully — delaying the getting-ons of the day, then finally making one’s way to the cafe? Is Brunch merely an accomplice in aiding & abetting my ability to eat eggs, a yogurt bowl, and a smoothie in the late afternoon without feeling like I’m “behind schedule” for the day? Or is the whole construct of Brunch simply a semantic tactic for enabling alcoholics? Is Brunch the antithesis of an AA sponsor, making it perfectly acceptable to have a Spritz at 10am, whereas, on any other day & in any other setting, indulging in a cocktail alongside a quiche would sound the alarm that this drinking habit might be worth examining? Somewhat unrelated, but are excessive boozy smoothies on vacation a cause for concern? After all, there’s some fruit thrown in there, so it’s healthy… right?) But why did I feel the need to order this banana smoothie in the first place? Hadn’t I had enough already? I was satiated. I was satisfied. I’m a grown adult, so why do I feel the need to keep eating when I’m no longer hungry? (That’d be like continuing to work a soul-sucking job after I’ve already saved enough for retirement.) What’s to be gained by this? Is continuing to consume in excess in this way actually to my benefit? Am I perceiving scarcity while being surrounded by abundance? Would I be better off if the process of placing a follow-up order presented a greater inconvenience? Again, I don’t ask these questions to shame myself. It’s all good. I’ve already been instructed to hand over all my shame after having a profound experience of jumping into a jungley river. Having released my previous go-to tendency to induce shame, now I can observe my behavior with a heavy dose of non-judgmental curiosity. I can ask, “So, why did I choose to act in this way?” Then, just observe what surfaces, like a third-party scientist. So, in this case, here’s what arises out of the ether… I ate again because I was in search of a distraction. I was anxious about having to exist in a world where all of my needs were met. What would it mean if I didn’t need this banana smoothie? It would mean that I’d already had everything. It would mean that I’d be done with the task of eating. Then, it would mean that now was the time to transition to the next activity. “Enough” is a scary notion to those of us who habitually delay living. Those of us who put off doing the real thing, in favor of constantly preparing. Nervously looking side-to-side, up-above, & over our shoulders, rather than simply stepping forward. For the past few days now, I’ve had this (still-unwritten) writing piece on the tip of my fingers. I catch glimpses of what I want to say, while also being gifted inspiration from my circumstances & surroundings. And yet, I’ve been delaying the act of just sitting down to write it. I haven’t been able to show up at the page because I’ve been burying myself under the weight of my own self-inflicted expectations. This act of delaying is a go-to tactic for the still-needs-to-be-attending-PA recovering perfectionist. I convince myself of all the needs I must meet before I can unleash my creativity. I convince myself that I need to write my Morning Pages, meditate, stretch, elevate my heart rate by taking a lil jog on the beach, get grounded with breathing exercises, then open my mind with some reading. After reading, I need to take a quick nap to recover from a morning full of activity. After waking up from said nap, I roll out my feet (hard to write with stiff muscles and rolling out the feet is a gateway to releasing tension in the rest of the body). Once the feet rolling is complete, I’m ready for some caffeine. To write most effectively, I need an oh-so-subtle hit of caffeine, just enough to open up my dopamine receptors, but not enough to make me jumpy. So, I hop on my dirtbike and ride to the cafe. I order my usual iced oat milk matcha latte (taking a lil break from dairy). Then, I decide it’d be best if I didn’t write on an empty stomach. And seeing as I haven’t yet had Breakfast, despite it being after 3pm, I order the galette. As I’m staring at the menu (that I’ve most definitely memorized after frequenting this cafe almost every day for the past 6 weeks), I decide that the yogurt bowl also sounds tasty (a lil bit of dairy often helps spark my creativity). As I wait for my Breakfast, I sit down on the couch to do some more reading. Again, I don’t want to write on a pre-sustenance stomach or a pre-caffeine brain. So, I open 1 of the 3 books I’ve currently got in the rotation. (Reading is a productive habit in inhibiting creative productivity because I can convince myself that I’m being productive by gathering additional perspectives, stories, references, and overall inspiration. I pay no mind to the fact that I know what I want to say already. I pay no mind to the fact that I need no “supporting evidence” to say what’s honest & authentic. Instead, I suppress those encouraging-me-to-just-create sentiments because they distract me from a focused reading session.) Once the food comes, I decide to spark up a conversation with my couch companion about the contents of the book I was just studying. I tell myself that conversation can often be a conduit to electrifying creativity. So, this is, once again, a productive activity. The conversation continues as I finish my food. I pinball my attention between matcha, galette, yogurt bowl, and conversation with couch companion. “Ohhh that’s a magnificent blend of oaty & earthy! Woah these eggs have some nice salty peppery today! Oy vey how I’ve missed dairy! (Don’t read too intently into the dramatic nature of this commentary — I drank a late night glass of milk less than 20 hours ago. So this “dairy fast” is nothing to write home a note to myself about.) Yeah I hear what you’re saying. Of course there’s a certain degree of human insatiability that can be blamed on the capitalist economy…”

Well, in a fit of cosmic interference, as I was writing that previous line ending in “economy”, while sitting on the same couch that’s both the setting of that previous line I was writing and the present setting in which I find myself, an Admired Friend walked into the cafe and we dove into conversation. His name is the same as an international brand that’s known for its “Just Do It” slogan. His shirt said “Eggnog made me do it”. And here I am, wishing that my perceived need to consume eggs for a comically late afternoon Brunch would cease being my procrastinating self’s excuse to NOT do it. Yet, our conversation quickly evolved into being one of self-forgiveness. The importance of releasing the shame that’s become so instinctive. He shared how practicing forgiveness elevates our energetic vibrations, while holding on to shame makes us more inclined to inflict it. Neither of us claimed to be perfect humans. Instead, we both shared less-than-ideal behaviors stemming from thought patterns that we’d prefer didn’t persist. But we also circled back to the importance of observing without judgment. Being curious without condemnation. Of course, shame can be a means of behavior change. But, do the ends justify the means? The more I examine it, shame feels like an unnecessary layer. If I am inclined to assign shame in order to induce change, then can I be quick to release it? Can I notice it, then give it away? But, this method of releasing shame begs the question: Where can I put it? Who can I give my shame to? If I’m to “hand over my shame”, then where does it end up? Unfortunately, my soul doesn’t seem to have a garbage disposal. The answer to all of the above: it doesn’t matter. Give it to a therapist, a pastor, a stranger. Give it to a friend, which is the role we just played for each other. Hand it over to a force that’s greater. Offer it up to the Universe. Release your shame with a ritual if that’s what’s called for. Conduct a seance where you transfer your shame to your long-deceased ancestors. Do whatever you need to do. Do whatever works for you. But, whatever you do, don’t hold on to it. Hand it over. Holding on to it isn’t doing you — or anybody around you — any favors.

If it works for you, then I’d recommend writing a verbose, stream of consciousness, and very public expose about the shame you’re experiencing for sleeping in, mozying about your morning, delaying the gettings-on of the day, before finally making your way to the cafe, where you can then spontaneously run into a friend and dive into an open & vulnerable conversation. Today, that’s what’s worked for me. But, please note that airing out this shame you feel for procrastinating might cause you to fire some completely unnecessary ricochet shots at those who enjoy a nice boozy smoothie on their vacation Spritz with their Brunch. Because, after all, those swimming in shame often attempt to drown others. So, for everybody’s benefit, just hand it over. If you want to decipher your behavior, then do so curiously. Do so non-judgmentally. Why did I feel the need to have a banana smoothie when I was no longer hungry? Now I can see it oh-so-clearly… I was shame-eating. A cousin of stress-eating, shame-eating is when I continue to eat food rather than confront any uncomfortable emotions that I’m feeling. In this instance, I was feeling shame for procrastinating on the piece I was “supposed to” be writing. Even though I’m not on deadline, even though all writing-related expectations are self-imposed, I felt an obligation to do this writing today, right now, in this instance. Anything else that I did, be it a morning meditation or an engaging conversation with a couch companion, was labeled as “a distraction.” In an attempt to get myself to write, I self-inflicted shame over & over & over again. If I wasn’t writing, then I was procrastinating. If I was procrastinating, then I wasn’t doing it “right”.  The “it” in this case being my life. Now I see… as I was all-consumed by the shame of procrastinating, I was refusing to consume the life happening all around me. Maybe it wasn’t “wrong” that I chose to watch TV last night instead of write. Maybe it wasn’t “wrong” that I took my time today before heading to the cafe. Maybe it wasn’t “wrong” that I ordered that utterly delightful, yet completely unnecessary, banana smoothie. Maybe, just maybe, what was completely unnecessary was to stab all of that shame into my left shoulder blade. Maybe it would’ve been best to give all this shame away from the beginning. Because, in the end, had I not stayed up late last night, then I wouldn’t have slept in. If I wouldn’t have slept in, then I wouldn’t have been “late” to the cafe. If I wouldn’t have been “late” to the cafe and continued procrastinating upon my arrival, then I probably wouldn’t have ordered that exceptionally tasty banana smoothie after I was already full. If I hadn’t ordered that banana smoothie and proceeded to write about it, then I wouldn’t have still been sitting there when my “Eggnog made me Just Do It” friend walked in. If I wasn’t still sitting there in that moment, then we wouldn’t have had that liberating conversation. If we didn’t have that conversation, then I might still be carrying my shame of procrastinating. And sure, maybe if I was still carrying that shame, then I would’ve started writing the piece that I “should’ve been writing” from the beginning. But, would producing that piece about barber shops have made me happier? Would the finished product be better than this one about banana smoothies? I guess I’ll never know the answer because this is the only life I lived piece I wrote today. So, now that it’s 6:27pm and I’m being politely asked to leave the cafe, I guess the piece I was “supposed to write” will just have to wait til tomorrow. For now, it’s time to retire. And would you look at that… it’s almost time for dinner!