Shortcuts

Here's what my husband tells me is going on in the food industry: there's an Eggo shortage. How does he know about it, and I don't?  Teachers. Apparently, this is what they talk about in the lounge--what's missing on the shelves at the grocery store. It's interesting to have access to this stimulating conversation among the women and men molding the minds of our children, but that's another post. Anyway, the Eggo debacle got us talking about what "everyone else" is eating, because a shortage of Eggo's is really not a big deal at our house.* My husband decided that most people are saving a great deal of time each week by choosing a different food acquisition path. He estimates that I could save an average of 3-4 hours each week, if I changed my routine to model that of his colleagues from school. To do that I'd need to start shopping more in the freezer section, learn how the microwave works, and give up my "NO McDonald's" stance. It's not going to happen. Sure it may take me a little longer to plan, prepare, and clean up a good ole' home cooked meal, but I've already talked about the importance of that in my life here.

So, of course, as a good Academy student, I began to think about the shortcuts I have taken in my connection with the Divine. It feels like I've spent most of my life looking for some sort of back door approach to God. If I serve on one more committee at church or attend this particular retreat or devote my career to the church or even go to seminary, then I will have a direct connect with God. I've been working pretty hard on all this stuff most of my life, and there have been some holy moments, but for the most part I'm left feeling like that shortcut food--a little fractionated. It's mostly just a list of things to do, rather than a way of being.

I'm beginning to see that what my heart truly desires is a connection with something greater than the sum of all my previous experiences. I'm seeking a way of life that's slow, intentional, and connected. I want to see the image of God in everyone I encounter and carry the Echad b'echad (One into One, One becomes One) with me always. Mostly, I want my life to be full of spiritual practices that generate more compassion in me and therefore the world. There's no shortcut to get there. So to avoid being de-railed by the continued shortage of Eggo's, I'm taking the long way around.

*we make homemade buckwheat pancakes to die for!

D-I-S-C-O-N-N-E-C-T

It's Thanksgiving. The value of "home cooked" food goes way up on this holiday. It's one of the few times of year when the general population actually spends a significant amount of time in the kitchen preparing the food they plan to eat. Of course the food industry has come up with plenty of "short cuts" to keep a good distance between us and our food, but I enjoy living in the fantasy that kitchens are being used like never before during this holiday. People are getting up close and personal with their food. It's a great thing!

Unfortunately, I don't think this is the norm for everyday life.We find ourselves in a place today where food is of little or no value. It's just a commodity. We are so disconnected from our food that we see it as a cumbersome chore to grow, buy, prepare, or even eat, so we let someone else do most of the work for us. When I got married, I didn't know what to do with the pots and pans I received for wedding gifts. My life was full of eating out and taking out and grabbing food wherever I could get it. So for Lent one year, I decided to give up eating out. I thought it would be the longest 40 days of my life. Fortunately for me, it totally improved my life. It's when I began to get connected to my food.

Fast forward to Thanksgiving 2008. I was in Athol, MA with my sister and her family where almost every item on our plate was secured within 50 miles of her home. Better yet, my sister had grown a lot of what we were eating. We got milk from a cow, cut greens out of the field, harvested sweet potatoes, and met the farmer who raised our turkey. I don't think I have ever been so intimately connected to my food--knowing who grew it, seeing where it grew, touching the soil that birthed it. It was a spiritual experience. I felt really connected to the rest of the universe. My eyes were opened to how everything is intertwined.

One of the images I like to use with my clients is that of an internal rain forest. When we take away one component of food, it messes up the ecosystem of our bodies much like the rain forest is altered forever when one tiny bug is removed. I'm beginning to see this same rain forest example play itself out in my spiritual journey. The more disconnected I am from my food, the more disconnected I am from God. Thank goodness the reverse is also true. This new insight is what I'm most thankful for this year.

Can't pontificate anymore--got to get connected to my food and God by putting my hands on some beets grown by my friends Candice and Joel at Crabtree Farms. Happy connected Thanksgiving!

You Are What You Eat

I believe that food enters our bodies and breaks down to become our physical being (cells, blood, tissue, organs, etc.). I also believe food affects our thoughts, feelings, and emotions. I counsel people to eat whole food (food as close to the way it was created in nature) and believe that whole food creates whole people.

If we are the image of God, which I believe now more than ever after the exercise of having the Hebrew text YHVH imprinted on me during session 2 of Academy, where does the food piece fit in? Is God food? Rabbi Rami would say yes, because "God is everything," but I struggle with non-whole food. Is that still God? If it is, and we eat it, are we just a different, less-than-whole manifestation of God? "Of course!" would be Rami's response.

I get that. I don't like it, but I get it. For me, I know that when I eat whole food I feel like a whole person. I am centered and in my body. The mindless chit chat is less loud, and I easily open myself to Echad b'echad (One into One; One becomes One), heightening my link to God. I find myself in a place of divine connection without really thinking about it or even trying to get there. That's why eating whole food is critical for me. Without it, I cannot connect with the divine.

Ok, maybe that's not 100% true--I can connect with the divine when I eat non-whole food, but the connection is significantly reduced. I'm fractionated, just like the food. It's difficult to focus and clear my egoic self of the endless noise. It's exhausting, because I have to work ten times as hard. It's work, rather than a state of being.

So here's my surprise conclusion--keep eating whole food, especially when I'm feeling disconnected from God. I know, quite a shocker.