Food, Food, Food.
by Joanna D.
Many thoughts on food today. And yesterday. Quite possibly the last fifteen or so years of my life. Today however was thick with them. You see, the past two weeks have been lived out in the spirit of fasting. More of a partial fast designed to limit my intake, cut out unnecessary items and really hone-in what I put into my body. For the most part the changes were not that difficult as I’ve followed this basic plan before. Don’t eat this or that, more of those and less of them and don’t eat now or later. The most common themes being; avoid all dairy, bread and refined sugar; focus on whole grains, steamed veggies and fruit; no food in the morning and no food at night. Oh and no alcohol, which I hadn’t been doing anyway. Simple enough.
It wasn’t too hard cutting out the dairy. Bread? Could do without but definitely thought about toast from time to time. Cookies? MMMmmmmm… cookies. Ultimately though, the restricted diet was fairly easy to obtain and maintain and I plan on staying with it’s general principles as a regular thing.
The first week I felt great. Energy, lightness, enthusiasm. Strong. However, as my body struggled to adjust to the new regimen and the heat I started to get tired. Dizzy. Lethargic. I hit a wall. My body, completely non-complient. Frustration set in. The inner battle; Do it! Don’t give in, work harder! -vs- Breathe, slow down, take it easy; pretty much a losing one. The body usually wins.
After that, I was ready to dive into a bag of Jelly Bellys and chocolate cake with a bowl of buttered popcorn all curled up to watch “Goonies” in a dark, cool room. Actually I would have eaten anything put in front of me. Aside from a stake that is. But, I noticed something new. I wasn’t really hungry. My belly wasn’t hungry. It was a different feeling. Hollowness, a desire for something else. To be held… comforted?
Thoughts varied from failure to complete my practice and money being tight to missing my family, the mountains and my old apartment. Longing. So, I had to wonder… what is this really about? What does food really mean to me? What do these things I miss and desire mean to me and my life as a whole? What space is it that I’m attempting to fill with food or anything for that matter and how does that relate to this sense of security I long for? Then… what is that exactly? Security? All I know for sure at this point is I can’t get that from a pint of Chocolate Therapy, even though it’s damn tasty ice cream.