Taking care of self--part the second
Yesterday I had a massive revelation.
I discovered one of the reasons why I've had such a hard time getting it together lately.
I was starving.
Oh, there was plenty of food to be had. But due to time constraints and varying but debilitating levels of exhaustion and depression, I was opening cans and boiling water. Cracking boxes and expecting to find sustenance in there. Eating food that other people had prepared.
In other words, my food--the stuff that I expected to sustain me physically and spiritually and mentally--wasn't doing its job, because I wasn't paying attention to it. I wasn't nurturing myself, not just via the consumption of food, but also not via the preparation of it.
I even stopped watching the Food Network for awhile, so I wasn't even getting the vicarious nurture of watching other people chop and stir and saute and season.
I lost my inspiration.
And as crazy as it might sound, I realize now just how much this act of preparing and eating good, healthy, real food means to me, and how much it affects everything I am and everything I do. It's my only real vehicle of artistic expression. And I love it--I love every sensual, delicate, varied, surprising, delightful bit of it. I like it when I play with food, and I like it when other people play with food and let me watch. I like talking about it, I like reading about it, I like thinking about it...I even like dreaming about it. I like planning it and serving it and sharing it. I like feeding other people, and I like feeding myself.
What more magnificent time of the year could I possibly be discovering this?
And so as I stood over a pot of simmering cranberries spiked with orange and sugar and cinnamon yesterday, I found myself not only mesmerized by the glorious, jeweled look of it, I was stunned by just how much I loved everything I sensed when I looked at it.
Maybe I'm really as nutty as people think I am, but I know as long as I have a firm grasp on this revelation, I'll know what to do the next time I'm feeling blue...
I not only am what I eat...I am what I cook, and as long as I can crank something amazing out of my stove, I'll be fine.
I discovered one of the reasons why I've had such a hard time getting it together lately.
I was starving.
Oh, there was plenty of food to be had. But due to time constraints and varying but debilitating levels of exhaustion and depression, I was opening cans and boiling water. Cracking boxes and expecting to find sustenance in there. Eating food that other people had prepared.
In other words, my food--the stuff that I expected to sustain me physically and spiritually and mentally--wasn't doing its job, because I wasn't paying attention to it. I wasn't nurturing myself, not just via the consumption of food, but also not via the preparation of it.
I even stopped watching the Food Network for awhile, so I wasn't even getting the vicarious nurture of watching other people chop and stir and saute and season.
I lost my inspiration.
And as crazy as it might sound, I realize now just how much this act of preparing and eating good, healthy, real food means to me, and how much it affects everything I am and everything I do. It's my only real vehicle of artistic expression. And I love it--I love every sensual, delicate, varied, surprising, delightful bit of it. I like it when I play with food, and I like it when other people play with food and let me watch. I like talking about it, I like reading about it, I like thinking about it...I even like dreaming about it. I like planning it and serving it and sharing it. I like feeding other people, and I like feeding myself.
What more magnificent time of the year could I possibly be discovering this?
And so as I stood over a pot of simmering cranberries spiked with orange and sugar and cinnamon yesterday, I found myself not only mesmerized by the glorious, jeweled look of it, I was stunned by just how much I loved everything I sensed when I looked at it.
Maybe I'm really as nutty as people think I am, but I know as long as I have a firm grasp on this revelation, I'll know what to do the next time I'm feeling blue...
I not only am what I eat...I am what I cook, and as long as I can crank something amazing out of my stove, I'll be fine.