Finding It: And Finally Satisfying My Hunger for Life (20 page)

I wanted to be out in the audience. I was a sponge when it came to absorbing life lessons from those who had put themselves on the line and returned with genuine wisdom. It was as though they had opened windows that let me see a little more clearly and farther down the road. I realized I was hungry and curious, and unlike the way I basically ignored such urges when I was at my worst, I listened to that voice telling me to learn and grow, and I went with it.

I let that shape my point of view as I settled in opposite Rachael and began firing questions at her. I felt I knew her well enough from appearing on her show so often. But I had no idea how she had actually become Rachael Ray the star and businesswoman. So as thousands watched, I decided to satisfy my curiosity, and I found out that Rachael’s first show,
30-Minute Meals
, had begun as a cooking class that she taught in a grocery story in Albany, New York.

“I was trying to get people to buy more groceries,” she said.

In those days, Rachael was a food buyer. But when she noticed that customers weren’t buying the great foods and ingredients she brought into the store, she asked them why and found out they simply didn’t know how to cook with them. With the kind of practicality that would become her trademark, she began cooking demonstrations in the store. The rest was hard work from there to her own show.

“It didn’t just happen,” she said. “I loved the work, and I think if you love what you do the magic part happens organically. You tend to get noticed whether you’re a dish machine operator—my first job—a waitress, a manager, or something else. If you love
what you do, you’ll want to do it all day long and you’ll smile through the day.”

If I hadn’t been onstage and dressed in a conservative business suit, fulfilling a decidedly professional role, I might have jumped up and shrieked, “Exactly!” I also might have elaborated my feelings that such lessons applied to more than work. The same was true about the rest of one’s life. As I had discovered and continued to learn, if you make a conscious effort to live your life in a way that makes you love it, despite the inevitable bad days, the magic will happen.

Maria had set an inspirational tone earlier in the day, opening the conference by stating that it was okay to not have it all figured out. By “it all,” we knew she meant life, our roles as wives, mothers, businesswomen, children of aging parents, concerned citizens, and, generally, as women. She pointed to herself and said she didn’t have all the answers. None of us did, which was a comforting realization, as was the awareness that came when you looked around the hall and at the people on the stage and saw that everyone had gathered to share unique areas of expertise and life experiences with the intention of helping each other figure things out.

I didn’t expect to get the complete picture, but every little bit of knowledge and insight helped, just as losing a pound or two a week on a diet helps. Over a year or two or ten, I realized, it adds up. It’s called wisdom.

Morning session host Deborah Norville followed Maria and asked everyone to turn off her cell phone and BlackBerry and begin the day with a moment of quiet.

“Only still can be still,” she said, quoting a Chinese proverb.

I loved the concept of starting the day with a moment of introspective
silence. For most people, a typical day begins with the sound of an alarm, a dance to the toilet, forty-five minutes of music blasting during exercise, the rush to shower, twenty minutes of news on TV, e-mail, then traffic, ringing phones, meetings, and so on; the noise builds steadily throughout the day and doesn’t stop. Then at night we employ various methods of trying to turn the volume back down.

I wondered what it would be like if more of us began the day by listening to the music of silence or the sound of the human heart. What would it be like if I began my day with a moment of silence?

I knew the answer.

I would hear me—my inner voice and the sound of my heart.

Without getting too Gandhi, as Wolfie often accuses me of doing, let me say I am awestruck every time I hear my heart beat. It reminds me to avoid anything that might mess it up. The regularity of that thump-thump keeping me alive, as it does every human being, is also the drumbeat that keeps me on course in every aspect of my life, not just my diet and maintenance. My challenge is to listen to it.

To me, the most awe-inspiring part about hearing my heartbeat is the knowledge that it sounds the same in every other woman. It’s the song that connects all of us no matter what race, religion, and nationality we are. The joy I feel in my heart when my son does something good is no different from the joy a mother on the other side of the world feels when her child does something that makes her proud. It’s the same with feelings of pain, grief, and love.

And so I made a pledge to try to start my day with a moment of quiet in the hope of hearing the voice and music in me more clearly.

•      •      •

Jennifer Lopez also took the stage, and she could have been talking directly to me when she asked, “Are we truly present?”

“I was really honored to come here and speak to you because I get to stand here not as an entertainer, but as a girl who grew up in the Bronx with two sisters and a strong and loving mom. I realized early in my own journey that I had to be my own champion. Nobody told me to do what I did—most told me not to do it. But I was lucky enough to have a strong feeling inside that I should listen to my gut and it would guide me. When I didn’t listen is when I had my biggest mishaps.”

“Certain relationships make you doubt who you are and what you’re capable of and what you deserve,” she continued. “It took me some time to get it right in that arena. That’s why I’m telling you. You have to listen to that voice. In one of my lowest moments, when I didn’t have a grasp of who I was or where I was going, I prayed for guidance, for strength, a message, something. I picked up my Bible and the passage said, ‘Be happy for your trials and tribulations because you test your faith.’ ”

Following Jennifer, Disney-ABC Television President Anne Sweeney delivered another inspiring call to action, saying that each person had “the power to be an architect of change.

“By being who we truly are, we can make a difference,” she said. “We can all be leaders in our own lives and communities. You’ll hear a lot of variations on that theme today. For me, it’s a great reminder that we actually control our own destiny, that we choose the life we lead.”

I didn’t just agree, I was proof. MSNBC anchor Chris Matthews noted that women owned half of all small businesses and that that number was growing faster than in any other sector.
Women make 80 percent of all buying decisions and influence an even higher percentage. Later, CNN journalist Christiane Aman-pour provided a more global view, praising women entrepreneurs for making strides in Africa where men succeed only in killing each other off.

Backstage, I posed with Maria for pictures. I hadn’t seen her in a very long time—not since she had interviewed me in the early 1980s. I complimented her for bringing all these women together and providing a place where all of us gals could say to each other, “We can do this!”

It was the first time I had been a part of an event like that, and I hoped not the last. As I told Maria, I would be returning home as changed, inspired, and motivated as anyone who had bought a ticket, and I meant it.

After the photos, I signed books in another area of the convention hall, a cavernous room set up with booths and filled with women waiting in line to meet other authors. I enjoyed personalizing books and listening to stories and memories they wanted to share. I have heard people complain about such tasks. I’m not trying to sound like a goody-goody, but I like making these connections and finding out how similarly most of us live. I get strength and encouragement—and quite a few laughs.

I was having a fun time, and then it got even better when I glanced at a neighboring table and recognized
The Biggest Loser
trainer Jillian Michaels, who was also signing books. She had more people waiting in line for her than anyone else. I understood. I wanted to get in her line, too. I am a huge fan of hers.

At that point, Tom and my managers and a couple of the executives at Jenny Craig were the only people aware that I was
thinking about getting into a bikini. Suddenly, though, I wanted to tell Jillian about it. More specifically, I wanted to ask if she could help get me into shape—the kind of shape where I would be comfortable exposing that much of my body to myself, never mind the public.

I kept my eye on Jillian as I continued signing books. I didn’t want her getting away before I spoke to her.

“Damn, that woman is in amazing shape,” I said to Tom as I marveled at Jillian’s body.

As much as I wanted to talk to her, I was too shy to approach her. I knew what it was like to work at one of these events and then need to leave so you could get back to your life. Tom thought I was being way too sissified—that was the word he used. In fact, when I turned around to say hello to Rita Wilson, Tom sneaked off and introduced himself to Jillian. He explained the situation.

She came straight over to me, explained that she knew what was going on, and said, “You look good enough to put on a bikini now.”

“No way,” I said, embarrassed.

“Well, no worries. I’ll get your ass in a bikini.”

I couldn’t believe the B-word was now being spoken out loud. B-I-K-I-N-I. In the context of the conference, amid all these women wanting to inspire or be inspired, it seemed appropriate. Seeing Jillian nearby was like a cherry on top of the sundae, or like a sign from God. My inner voice—the one Jennifer Lopez had urged us to listen to—was going nuts. On the one hand, it said, “Pray she really will help you.” On the other, it added, “But no matter what, make sure there’s a wrap around your ass.”

A couple of weeks later, Jillian and I met for lunch. I was too inhibited to order anything on my own lest she snap, “You’re ordering
that? That stuff will kill you.” If she’d done that, I would have died. To be safe, I decided to order the same thing she did— whatever it was. She could not have been nicer, though, and I instantly felt like I had made a new friend.

Sadly for me, she had no time to train me or anyone else. Her work on
The Biggest Loser
and related projects kept her too busy for any private clients. But in a stroke of both genius and generosity, she whipped out her cell phone and called her friend Christopher. She said that she had a project for him. They chatted, she mentioned my name, she said the B-word, and then she hung up and looked at me.

“Everything’s set.”

What was set? Who was this Christopher?

It turned out Christopher was Jillian’s friend and trainer. Hearing that she sometimes had help in the gym surprised me.

“Someone trains you?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

Of course she did. Why wouldn’t she?

It dawned on me that life is a series of questions and answers— but mostly questions. It was only by asking questions that you got to the answers. When I thought back to my darkest days, I realized that I began to climb out of them when I asked myself the question that was then the biggest question of my life: did I plan to spend the rest of my days miserable, lying in bed at night and overeating?

More questions followed: Did I feel healthy? If not, why? What were the best decisions I’d made? What were the worst? What were the ramifications of those bad decisions? What had worked in my life? What hadn’t? What was currently working? What wasn’t? And what was I going to do about it? What
could
I do?

Later, as I thought about the interview I had done with Rachael, I realized that I liked asking questions more than I did responding to them. But that made me also realize that even though I had trouble coming up with answers that I believed in—I had few answers, in fact—that was okay.

As Maria Shriver had said earlier, it was okay not to know all the answers or to have everything figured out. We are expected to know so much, and yet in reality can’t possibly know it all. I absolutely loved giving myself permission to stop trying to figure it all out.

Once I did that, I eliminated about twelve thousand things from the list of things I normally worried about, which meant I got rid of about twelve thousand things that usually made me want to eat. It was like a giant exhale.

I felt the weight melt off my shoulders. I hoped it would melt off my thighs, too. I hoped I would hear from Christopher.