I’ve been reading the work of Marion Woodman, an author and Jungian analyst who’s well known for her writings on addiction and eating disorders. In much of her work, she talks about how literal the body is in its signals; in a recent interview she says, “The longing for sweets is really a yearning for love or sweetness.”

If cravings really are that transparent, why are we so frequently at their mercy? I think it’s a simple answer: we just don’t take the time to listen to where the craving is coming from. What part of our selves is doing the craving–the body or the mind? The fact is, we don’t really pay much attention to our selves from the neck down. In our culture, the head is where the action’s at; it’s the part that’s sexy and loud and bright, and we’re completely at its mercy. Meanwhile, we drag the body around like a dog on a leash.

But the body is brilliant at expressing its needs and desires. It’s just not as shrill or strident as the mind, and we don’t get still and quiet often enough to hear it — or we do hear it, but allow the mind’s whims to subjugate the body’s needs. When we get sick, it’s often the body’s way of saying “Enough!” when it’s fed up with being ignored. And it’s an opportunity to check in with our selves from the neck down, and notice what needs attention.

What does all of this have to do with eating? Everything. In our culture, we eat from the neck up. When we dine out, we choose grilled salmon, no sauce, dinner salad, dressing on the side, because the brain tells us this is a nutritious choice that will keep us slim and healthy. At the store, we load up our shopping carts with nonfat milk, low-calorie “butter” spread and diet soda, because our minds tell us those foods will also keep us slim. Sometimes, we load up our shopping carts with frozen dinners and boxed mac ‘n cheese, because our minds tell us we’re behind on deadlines and we don’t have time to cook.

Ordering grilled salmon in a restaurant is a fine idea, and there’s nothing wrong in general with shopping for easy-to-prepare foods. But where is the body in all of this? If you order the grilled salmon to be virtuous, but you’re not in the mood for fish, and you’re longing for risotto, your body won’t be fed in the same way. The meal will be nutritious, but it may not be nourishing. You won’t experience pleasure.

Now, the tricky part about cravings is differentiating between the needs of the body and the capricious desires of the mind. Is it truly your body that wants ice cream or spicy cheese nachos, or is it your mind that wants them, to provide a momentary distraction from stress, worry, anxiety, loneliness? It could be that you don’t want food at all; maybe, as Woodman suggests, you’re really craving sweetness in your life. (Or in the case of nachos, more spice.)

Maybe the cells of your body really are crying out for ice cream or nachos; maybe you’ve been on a highly restrictive diet since eighth grade, and your cells are starved for fat. If that’s the case, you might want to engage your body in a dialogue; maybe another kind of fat–olives, avocado, coconut oil, organic butter–would appeal even more strongly.

Sometimes our cravings are what our minds call “healthy” cravings, for foods like fresh melon or walnuts. Because we indulge those cravings without mental or emotional suffering, those aren’t the issue. Other cravings for foods that cause adverse physical reactions in the body–like sugar for a diabetic, or wheat for someone with Celiac–simply shouldn’t be indulged. And if you have a serious eating disorder like anorexia or bulimia, I encourage you to seek one-on-one, professional help.

For everyone else, try this out: the next time you have a food craving that’s causing you distress, just stop what you’re doing and notice. Where is the longing in your body? What exactly is it saying? If possible, find a place where you can be still and quiet for at least 10 minutes. Get comfortable, close your eyes and just sit with the craving. What comes up? What words, images, physical sensations, emotions are behind the craving?

Sometimes, when you’re sitting at the edge of a craving, you’ll find that your body wants to move in a certain way; allow it that freedom, and see if it’s offering a clue to what’s really going on. Begin to write about your cravings in a journal; it’s a fascinating exploration into the inner landscape. Sometimes, you’ll find that a craving really is signaling a nutritional deficiency in your body. But you may also notice that, most of the time, your cravings have nothing to do with food. It’s hard–painful, even–to sit there with a craving and be with what comes up. But if you can do it, it’s liberating, exhilarating and ultimately more rewarding than a chocolate chip cookie.

What do your cravings look like? Please post your comments; I’d love to hear.

I have a yoga mat made by a company called “holding.” It’s short for “holding the edge”– a phrase that describes a key concept in yoga. When we arrive at a difficult posture, one that causes discomfort, we stop carefully and notice it. We don’t react by flinching or jerking back, but we don’t shove forward either. We bring awareness to the physical (and mental, and emotional) sensations we’re experiencing in that posture. If there is physical pain, we carefully back out of the posture. Otherwise, we relax into it.

It’s also called “riding the edge” in surfing and some other sports, or “dancing on the edge,” which accurately portrays the practice of moving forward and back along the rim of discomfort. And there is great wisdom at the edge. It teaches us not only what we’re capable of physically, but also what our patterns of reactions are, mentally and emotionally.

In the face of discomfort, what arises? Fear, anger, judgment? And what’s our natural tendency–to ignore the sensations and shove blindly forward, thus risking pain and injury? Or do we run away from the difficulty, missing an opportunity to grow and advance?

This concept of holding the edge–neither forcing through nor shrinking back–applies to most other areas of our lives. Relationships are best served if we show up fully and completely, not holding back but not forcing what can’t be forced. Successful careers are built on the concept of giving it your all, while not shoving forward into uncontrollable circumstances. And it applies to our food lives.

If you struggle with mindless, emotional or stress-based eating, holding the edge will serve you well. Let’s imagine a scenario, one that happened to one of my clients who wrestled mightily with mindless eating. She worked as a house-sitter for a battery of wealthy clients who regularly traveled to exotic locales. Her regular dietary habits were stellar, but when she was staying at a client’s house, the gloves came off.

Around sundown, she would start to get uncomfortable–bored, lonely, out of sorts; sometimes, she found herself inexplicably stricken with grief. By 9 p.m., she would find herself alone in an unfamiliar house, standing at her client’s kitchen counter, elbow-deep in a bag of chips. And she couldn’t stop, until she had devoured most of the chips, cookies, cartons of ice cream in the pantry and freezer. Afterward, she felt shame, disgust, powerlessness. It was exactly the same pattern as an addiction.

Was it because she felt lonely and vulnerable in an unfamiliar home? Was she grieving her modest life in comparison with the spectacular lives of her clients? Was it just the novelty of a pantry filled with forbidden foods? Doesn’t matter. What’s important is that somewhere along the line, she checked out. Emotional discomfort arose, and she yanked back from that edge.

What does holding the edge look like in this instance? The urge to eat arises. You stop, and just notice the sensation. Eating some chips, cookies or ice cream will create a pleasing cascade of happy brain chemicals that will relieve the sensation for a bit. But you don’t do it. Instead, you stay there at the edge of discomfort. It gets stronger, worse, even painful. Maybe you get mad. Maybe you sob. Either way, you stay with it, noticing what arises without reacting to it. Something lies just beyond the craving. Something is there at the edge, some great wisdom and the potential for mental, emotional and spiritual growth.

As it turns out, she did all of the above. One night, alone at the home of a family who was taking some fabulous, pricey vacation, and overcome by the desire to eat, she held her edge. She grieved for being alone, unmarried and childless, for living in a modest home, for being heavier than she wanted to be, for her heartbreaking childhood, for feeling helpless and vulnerable, for the sheer passage of time. She went into the expansive yard, lay facedown under the stars, and pounded on the manicured lawn with both fists. She sobbed for the better part of an hour. At the end of it, she felt renewed, and honest, with a deeper clarity toward her life.

That’s the power and wisdom any of us can find at the edge. The process may look something like this:

1. When a craving strikes, and your first impulse is to head to the kitchen, stop. Do nothing. Close your eyes and breathe, deeply in, deeply out, 50 times. Feel the cells of your body softening and relaxing. Sometimes, this is enough.

2. What’s the level of your discomfort? If 1 is barely noticeable and 10 is unbearable, is it a 2 or an 8? Having a somewhat objective measure puts your feelings into perspective. If your discomfort meter reads “3,” perhaps you can allow it to be there; it may subside after a few minutes.

3. If your discomfort is substantial, find a quiet place and space to let the feelings come up. If you’re in a work situation–a meeting, a cubicle–change your surroundings. Go for a walk, find an empty conference room, take a bathroom break and go sit in your car.

4. Sit there with your feelings. Imagine having them in for a visit and a cup of tea. Let them talk, and listen attentively, as you would to a trusted friend.

5. Allow some space for whatever arises. It’s not necessary to label or judge it. Just let it be there. Envision being in a difficult yoga posture, or catching a tricky wave in surfing. See what happens when you find your edge and take it for a ride.

In what areas of your life do you experience the edge of discomfort? And how do you hold the edge? Think about it, and add your comments here ~