How to feel better

A promise, from my heart to yours

Dearest Reader,

My most heartfelt hope for PERFECT HUNGER is that these words—these imperfect, perfectly earnest words that I type, rearrange, then rearrange again and send off each week—will reach you. Reach not just your inbox, but your body, your mind, your spirit.

I want to write just the right words, in just the right way, to help you remember your hunger for what:

• brings your body more lightness and ease

• helps you sleep more soundly

• expands your sense of what’s available and possible

• lends itself to everyday wonder and quiet delight

• supports you in living more beautifully

Sounds lofty, I know. But I promise, this entire world—this place of presence and aliveness and wholeness—is here for you. No matter who you are, no matter what’s come before, no matter, no matter, no matter.

From our first breath til our last and maybe beyond, wholeness and aliveness and being here always awaits—even amidst hardship and pain, hope and despair, the ebbing and flowing of humanness.

I promise, our capacity for presence persists. We don’t have to force it. We are part of it and it lives inside us. We just need to open our senses and hearts and remember.

Which is to say, as I sit here this morning—watching misty clouds settle over blue-grey mountains, listening to static-y announcements in Thai from the temple next door, wondering at how wet everything is and how awake and how green—I thought I’d share my most treasured, most trusted practice for re-finding and remembering this place of wholeness and goodness and knowing.

My practice for feeling better

If every other practice were lost to me… if every bit of training and learning fell away… I know this one thing would remain. It’s my reference point, my compass, my guide. It tells me—shows me—precisely what’s needed. In my body, my mind, my spirit. In my interface with the world and relationships.

I do it each evening. And while the details could easily change, the essence is this:

Alone on the floor of my bedroom, door closed and lights low, I move through gentle stretches, feeling into my body, unwinding the day.

As I move, I review the day—not a rehashing, not getting lost in fixations or stories. Just a review. Just noticing. Just paying careful attention to how that review feels in my heart and my body.

What I said and wrote. How I said it and wrote it. The path I walked online and off. My choices with words, food, movement, creation, consumption. What I listened to and read. What loops I found myself in or got myself in. Where I refused or failed to untangle the knots. What stories I told. What I made up.

It’s all okay, by the way—these movements of humanness. We don’t need to solve them.

And yet, it can be helpful, I find, to bring honest, exacting awareness to how it all feels—in my mind, my heart, my physical being. I ask myself: What was helpful? What left me feeling better, not worse? What feels good now, here in the after.

I also notice what did the opposite. What pulled my body, mind, and relationships into choppier waters. What doesn’t feel good to body-mind-soul.

Not to cling to it—not to add suffering to suffering by shaming myself or telling more stories. Just to notice. Just to consider how maybe, tomorrow, I might do something differently.

This practice tells me—shows me—what I most need to know. This practice changes everything. Who I am. What I do. How I exist in relationship.

I rarely speak in absolutes. I try to hold what I think I know lightly. And yet, I feel so solid in this. I feel so certain that the deepest essence of us wants to move towards wellness and wholeness. That we support this movement by being present enough to know how our choices feel. To know what is truly and deeply connecting.

So, maybe, if you don’t already have a practice like this—taking five or thirty minutes each day to go inwards and notice how and why you feel how you feel, including in your heart and your body—experiment.

It might be uncomfortable at first—it might always be a little uncomfortable. But I’ve found, over time and with practice, there’s more space for discomfort. And eventually—without needing heroic willpower or external direction—we start to crave what helps us feel better.

We start to do what helps us feel better and show up more beautifully.

Image of me by Rachael Shrum

WHAT’S NOURISHING ME

Handstands! Since moving to Thailand, I’ve continued practicing with the same yoga teachers as I was in Canada, now through recordings rather than live. The curriculum is a year long before circling around again, and each month, we focus on a particular posture or skill more intensely. This month is handstand month, which means I’m doing 90 minutes of handstand work interspersed with deep backbends every other day (on alternating days, I do a regular class to ensure my practice and body stay balanced).

The thing about handstands is, they’re less about arm strength than you might think. The core of the posture—and the ability to pike into it with straight legs and balance there—comes from the body’s center (for me, a spot one and a half inches below the navel, deep in the abdomen, corresponding to the lower dan tian in Chinese Medicine).

I already stand on my hands daily, but this month of intense work is helping me develop more strength, conscious awareness, and control at the center of my being. No surprise, this benefits other postures, too. Plus, it’s great for steadying and focusing my mind, rippling into the rest of my life.

A mesmerizing read. I’m only a quarter-way through The Island of Sea Women by Lisa See, but, wow, what a gorgeously rendered can’t-put-down read. This novel traces friendship and heartbreak across decades and lifelines, opening during Japanese colonization in the 1930s and 40s:

“Mi-ja and Young-sook, two girls living on the Korean island of Jeju, are best friends who come from very different backgrounds. When they are old enough, they begin working in the sea with their village’s all-female diving collective, led by Young-sook’s mother. As the girls take up their positions as baby divers, they know they are beginning a life of excitement and responsibility—but also danger.”¹

A beautiful container. I’ve mentioned

Africa Brooke

’s work and classes before in this space—her wisdom and teachings have been a true gift in my life. This past Sunday, I stayed up way past my bedtime to attend The In-Between, a gathering for those in transition and moving through change. In Africa’s words:

“My intention is to create a place for real reflection, clarity, and reconnection with where you are, and where you are going. I want you to slow down, to be honest, and to find your footing again.”

Yes! That intention came to life, and I recommend Africa’s offerings with my whole heart. I’ll leave you with one of her beautiful questions:

“What is my body trying to communicate that my mind keeps overriding?” —

Africa Brooke

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WHAT I’M HUNGRY FOR

Warming food. We’ve officially entered the cold season here in Thailand, but most days are still pretty sunny and hot. However… this past week, I was actually able to wear a sweater in the early morning while writing outside. And especially on cloudy, rainy days, I’ve been craving food that’s more intrinsically warming (i.e., has a warming effect on the body after eating, according to Chinese Medicine). The cold-damp on such days feels like our version of fall, and it reminds me of when I lived in a one-room cabin on Salt Spring Island in Canada.

Through the summer, fish and eggs were my main source of protein. But lately, I feel pulled to add red meat in the form of grass-fed ground beef once a week. I feel this extra acutely during my period.

If this topic interests you and you want practical tips, don’t miss my guide on What to eat this Fall, according to Chinese Medicine. And if you, like me, live someplace where it’s warm year round, check out my lengthy response about that in the comments.

More tea, less coffee. Most days lately, one cup of coffee has felt like enough—enough to savor, enough to enjoy without feeding urgency, anxiety, scattered-ness. Meanwhile, I’ve been drinking plenty of green and black tea, sometimes with a half-teaspoon of honey. Do you notice that too much coffee makes you spin out? Has this changed as you get older?

I’d love to hear yours.

Part of what excites me most about writing these letters is knowing I’ll get to hear about your lives—what’s supporting and helping you, what you want more of in the days, weeks, and months ahead.

That in mind, I’d love to hear:

• Do you have a practice of noticing how your body and heart feels at the end of each day? A way to get quiet and notice the impact of your day and your choices?

• What’s nourishing your body, mind, spirit?

• What are you hungry for?

Before you go, could you do me a favor and tap the little ❤️? It’s a small thing but means a lot to me, and helps others discover small, reader-supported publications like this one.

Thank you, with love,
Dana

1. That’s an affiliate link for Bookshop.org, where I curate lists of my favorite reads and may earn a small commission if you use my link to make a purchase, at no additional cost to you. The quote is from the same source.