Day 2: Roast Chicken
I woke feeling well. Slept well. No headache despite a night of thunderstorms. I felt almost too full yesterday and only felt hungry really late at night before bedtime. My skin is changing, much moister and smooth, pores slightly smaller. It will be interesting to see if neck/stomach tone up at the end of this experiment. My mood was also good (being a writer, I tend sometimes toward depression). I notice (this has been true since starting Keto as well) no racing heart or panic feelings, no skipping heart beats. I also have less ringing in my left ear, no back pain.
-Two glasses of filtered water.
– Coffee with a teaspoon of unsalted grass fed butter (I understand butter won’t break your fast)
-Leftover egg casserole (3 oz. ground pork, two eggs, an ounce of cheese)
-Four slices of bacon (I actually had trouble eating all this)
-12 oz. roast chicken with skin (basted in bacon fat) and seasoned just with salt and pepper.
-2 oz. shrimp in butter/cream sauce
-sparkling water LaCroix Lime flavored
-filtered water through the evening
(My son will have an avocado and a few blueberries with sour cream with his dinner)
I stuffed the cavity with onions and left off my usual spices of cumin, chili powder, cayenne, Montreal chicken, and whatever garden herb I am in the mood for—spices and green powder would likely be one of the first things I add back into my Keto diet). But interestingly, the bacon fat, salt and pepper, flavored with onion, was a nice change. I am a bit low on steak this week until my Butcher box order comes, and if on Keto would have added a nice herb butter Gremolata to the top since I realize chicken is an inferior source of fat and protein. But it tasted nice and I have a nice bone broth simmering with the carcass. Tomorrow I’ll be back to steak.
My diet will improve when my oysters and sardines arrive, along with the next Butcherbox order. I do have enough steaks for the next few days, however. I need to visit Whole Foods or the coop for some good liver to make my liver meatloaf. I may have to resort to a few spices on that day… Once again, I felt almost too full on the above dinner and I forgot to eat my shrimp!
I haul wood, trying to get it dried out due to the deluge of rain from yesterday. I do thirty minutes of WarriorMade workout which focuses mostly on lower body and some core exercises—but incorporates some high intensity movement. The fire in the woodstove is a relief from the dampness and I do my dream research in front of it.
Pondering dreams: Dreams originated in ancient times, first noticed from the early Greeks’ early works: Prometheus Bound and The Iliad and the Odyssey. Dreams were sometimes considered significant and prophetic, sometimes regarded as “false” and it required dream “interpreters” to discern the difference. They were sometimes erotic (whose aren’t?—thankyou Freud), but they have been ubiquitous in human experience forever. It is said that our dreams are a largely dismissed source of creativity, inspiration. An alternate source of evaluating our lives that are not often enough accessed.
This has been my first attempt at “directed lucid dreaming.” I am not sure how to accomplish this, but last night when I was first aware I was dreaming and stirred some, I tried to think of myself as participating in the dream as I fell back to sleep. I tried to think of myself as open to my deeper self, to what my unconscious wanted me to know about this life, my life. To actively being a character in the dream. It wasn’t a really vivid dream night, but I was aware of dreaming of my first boyfriend I went with for six years, someone with whom I had a lot of conflict and traumatic experience once. Later in life, we reconnected and worked through some of this. I was only just aware of him in the dream, as if he were standing quietly in a corner and observing me, and I felt a vague uneasiness perhaps, something that still feels unfinished, and perhaps it always will. There was really no imagery in this dream. I couldn’t recall any, what I remember seemed hazy, almost as if he were surrounded in fog, just a feeling he’d been in the dream. Though there was a truncated feeling even in the dream of incompleteness, I felt things were still “ok.” I have been having trouble getting re-acclimated to my writing life since my son’s health challenges, and I’m wondering if this isn’t more representative of my feeling undirected at the moment. But all in all, I felt less dis-ease than usual as I came awake, more on the right road, excited about exploring this novel and these ideas. The bed, with its clean, white organic sheets, seemed to support my body in a way that felt symbolic. The rain was easing, but there was a slow duh, duh, duh drip from the trees on the metal roof.