Post-Easter Food

I've been missing Jesus lately. Somehow, the swirl of activity in my life has left my Jesus prayer more than lacking (even while chewing). My spiritual disciplines that were becoming routine are noticeably absent from my daily rule. Sure, blame it on Easter and Spring Break, but that's no real excuse.

Can't even mention how awful my food intake has been the last week of Lent, Holy Week, and Easter Week. The Whopper's brand Robin Eggs get me every year.

The nice surprise in all this muck is the Biblical readings from yesterday (Luke 24: 28-35) and today (John 21:1-14). Both are stories of the disciples "seeing" Jesus following the resurrection, and both center around food. In all the chaos of the last few weeks, I now realize that I have had few meals sitting around the table with my little "disciple" (aka my 3 year old) or any other individuals in whom I look to meet Jesus. I've had many meals alone or on the run, and now I feel the toll it's taking--out of balance, dis-connected, and generally bleh about eating in general, not mention any sort of connection to God.

So where the heck is Jesus? I mean, I had plenty of Robin Eggs for him--what's up with him being so absent?

The text from Luke ("...Were not our hearts burning within us..." my translation: Jesus was with us all along) is a friendly reminder that if I'm missing Jesus, he's not the one who's left the table. I just forgot to set him a place.

Holy Week: Fasting Finale?

It's Holy Week, which means I only have a few days of Lent left. Today is the weekday I have been forgoing lunch in an effort to spend intentional time in meditation and prayer. I'm not ready to give up my new discipline. I like the break from constantly thinking about my next meal and feel like I am growing by taking on this new exercise.

So today is not a final farewell to fasting. It's a day of welcoming and appreciating a new found rhythm in my life.

Lent 5: Being Neighborly

Last night was the egg hunt at church, which started with a "picnic" in the gym. All the families were spread out on blankets with food--well, let me clarify--the parents were on blankets with copious amounts of food (trying to stuff the kiddos before the candy onslaught) while the kids ran free like they had been caged for the last 48 hours. It was loads of fun.

There was a single dad (I'll call him TM for Tall Man) there with his 6 year old daughter. He'd left the three younger children at home with his parents. He had no food. I don't know the circumstances, but I feel fairly confident he didn't know he was supposed to bring anything. Whatever the situation, we invited him to share our meal with us. I had made some hummus, cut up some fresh carrots and strawberries, and brought along some crackers. Nothing fancy by any means, but there was plenty for us to share with our neighbor (especially since my 3 year old was more interested in running around than eating).

Anyway, my husband and I engaged our dinner guest in conversation--typical stuff--how long have you been in town? what do you spend your time doing? how long have you been coming to the church? how old are your kids? where are they in school?--pretty boring stuff. As we got deeper into conversation, my intuition began to nudge something in me to be careful about what I shared with this person, so I kept the chit chat focused on him. And like I said, my husband was there--he can talk to anybody about anything for as long as needed. So I let him lead the interaction for a while.

After hunting eggs, TM and his daughter (who hunted in a different age category than my son) appeared again to open eggs and find out what treats and treasures were inside. I got another twinge of that icky/something's not quite right with this guy feeling. I couldn't put my finger on it, so I wanted to share my gut reaction with someone on staff at the church. When I told the Children's Director that something in my intuition had an uneasy feeling about TM, she said I was about the fourth woman to say something to her that night. "Aha!" I thought. "Justification! I'm not the only one feeling creeped out."

Later, another mother and I were talking and trying to figure out what it was exactly that made us so uncomfortable. She then began to back up and take the traditional, "I'm so bad...listen to me...being so judgmental...I shouldn't have said anything...etc." I couldn't believe what came out of my mouth in response:
"No you're not. You're listening to your intuition, which is the Holy Spirit talking to you. Good for you for listening."

Really? Was it the Holy Spirit? Or was I simply trying to justify my own actions and dragging the HS in the middle of my stuff?

I do think that the Holy Spirit stirs within me and speaks through my intuition. It's wise to listen to that inner voice. I wonder, though, if I'm only listening to that voice when it feels like danger is looming. What about the promptings I get daily to check on a friend or say a kind word or do a good deed or rest my own body? Isn't that the Holy Spirit, too? Wouldn't I be a better neighbor if I listened all the time, rather than selectively?

So I guess I have TM to thank...for showing up empty handed...for joining our picnic...for reminding me to listen to my intuition. Neighbors can teach me lots of things, if I'll slow down long enough to listen.

Lent 4: Foiled Fasting

Today (Wednesday) is usually the day I spend by myself--in silence. It's also the day I have chosen to fast from lunch in order to spend more time in reading, reflection, and meditation. I went to yoga this morning, thinking it would be a nice addition to my regular schedule, and there was a beautiful guided meditation into a place where we "felt" like water and air. I really wanted to get to that spot. I channeled a powerful experience I had several months ago that included both water and air and the beauty each possesses. As I reflected on the experience, it was clear that I was working deeply on letting go. Releasing control. Maybe that's why I was presented with it again today.

Control has been a problem as of late. Life has been unsteady because of things I cannot control. And I'm totally sucked up into it. It's been too difficult to differentiate myself from the chaos that surrounds me. So I let someone else control my time today, and it totally put me in a foul mood. Then, I ate lunch. Sure, I said the Jesus prayer while chewing my super yummy salmon salad, but I was still sort of pissed off in my heart. Angry at myself for letting others have such influence over me and for not speaking up when my boundaries were being stormed.

I shared with a friend yesterday that I feel like I'm living in a Jerry Springer episode, and it does not have an end in site. While I think that adding in fasting for one meal each week and the Jesus prayer whenever I can is a good thing, I'm not finding either to be particularly helpful at the moment.

I'm thinking I need to set aside some time every week to sit in my own misery. Designate a space and time where I will wallow in all the crap that's been dealt me and leave it there. Sort of like the dump--a place I don't want to go very often, and a place I can leave my load of junk without looking back. Hmmm...a new exercise to explore while fasting. Maybe I'll start with dinner tonight.

Lent 3: Jesus prayer

I've been trying to incorporate the Jesus prayer more regularly/faithfully over the last week. I'm finding it relatively easy to add in to my yoga practice and occasionally when I'm "zoned out" driving in the car. At the advice of a friend I tried using it while walking , but haven't found a rhythm that works well just yet. I'm working on that. I've tested it in the bed--both morning and night--with deep breathing and find myself  distracted (by sleep, of course). It's been somewhat frustrating trying to settle this new habit into my routine.

But this morning, I came up with a great way to add this small prayer into my daily life. Chewing. Yep--each syllable gets a munch. Lord-Je-sus-Christ-have-mer-cy-on-me. It totally works. I chew more intentionally and slowly while reciting the prayer, which has all kinds of health benefits in and of itself.

This feels like a giant leap forward and a much needed centering exercise for me right now. Indeed, I am feeling the mercy of Jesus Christ in this revelation!

Lent 2: Roman, Greek, or Russian?

Here's the image that came up for me this week after a session with a client:

Here's the quote I put on my Facebook status recently:   

We are what we repeatedly do.  

Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit. 

~Aristotle

One is Roman (at least by name and clip-art), one is Greek, oftentimes pitted against one another, but this week the two had a head on collision in my life and then had a little Eastern Orthodoxy from Russia sprinkled on top. 

I have vivid memories of the orange bag housing our weekly loaf of bread (or 2 or 3) on the kitchen counter in my childhood home and reached for that "healthy" Roman goodness everyday to make a sandwich. This was an easy thing for my mom to teach us, so I understand why it became our standard lunch. To this day, my dad still eats a sandwich for lunch--maybe not on Roman Meal bread--but the habit has stuck. When I get into a funk or a rut, it's what I go back to. And let me tell you, given the proper tools, I can make a mean sandwich. I have had years of practice. I am an excellent sandwich maker.

In addition to the trip down memory lane with the Roman soldier, Aristotle got me thinking about the habits I have in my life right now. What is it that I am repeatedly doing, conscious or unconscious? I don't really want to face that question, because there are a lot of things that definitely have achieved a level of excellence in my life that are not necessarily habits I'd like to continue. Like emotional eating. And skimping on my workout. And avoiding neighbors because I'm "too busy." And giving myself away to others with nothing left for my own family. And closing my heart to those around me. And comparing myself to "her" or "him"--because they're so spiritual/happy/generous/wealthy/good looking/smart. And beating myself up for not being as good as "her" or "him." The list goes on...

After recognizing all the "wrong" I have in my life, I am grateful to be reading The Way of a Pilgrim, set in 19th Century Russia. It makes me wish I could spend countless days by myself in meditation and recitation of the Jesus Prayer until it is part of my being in the same way the Pilgrim describes, but that's not where I am right now. One of the things I have found helpful in my own situation, though, is the story he shares of an alcoholic who decided to begin reading scripture whenever he had the urge to drink. He was successful in achieving sobriety using this simple technique. So I think for me, when some of the habits of excellence I don't like very much come up, I'm going to notice them, give myself a little grace, and get back to the Jesus Prayer as a way of adding in a new form of excellence to crowd out those I could really live without. 

Thanks to the Romans, Greeks, and Russians for pointing me in the right direction. Excellence is just ahead!

Lent: Week 1

With my clients I use the idea of adding in balancing foods to crowd out the desire for unbalancing foods. I have found it to work remarkably well in my own life--the more whole foods I eat, the more I crave.

I've been thinking about this same idea--adding in to crowd out--as it relates to my spirituality. For Lent this year I'm adding in a new discipline--fasting from food. I've never done this before, so I set pretty attainable limits for myself. I'm eliminating one meal a week with the intention of crowding out my constant, obsessive thoughts about food.

I think we have overcomplicated what we should eat to the point that people are paralyzed, and I'm feeling a little of that creep into my own life. By adding in this new discipline, I hope to crowd out my anxiety around what I should/shouldn't be eating and tune-in to my own intuition about the best choices for me.

I wonder what adding in this discipline will leave me craving?

Stale

My sister works in a bakery and sometimes brings home the almost stale leftovers--muffins, bagels, and occasionally a sweet treat. It's nice to have something almost fresh-baked without the mess to clean up.

I'm feeling like my relationship with the church is getting a little stale. Maybe what it is is that I don't have a community of spiritual support around me that I can tap into regularly. I'm the loan bagel among a dozen blueberry muffins. It's isolating to have an intense spiritual encounter or to be on a certain path towards Divine understanding and connection and feel like no one else gets it. It leaves me feeling tired and alone.

I really identified with how Yearning Minds and Burning Hearts brought to light Jesus' similar situation--alone and misunderstood, even by those closest to him. As if Jesus was a nice 3-seed loaf in the midst of a sea of unleavened bread. Somehow, that's normalizing--to know that God actually experienced isolation, too. While living with his "friends", Jesus realized they just didn't get it. What a frustrating place to be.

I'm heading back to Academy next week. It will be nice to have a break from the stale muffins surrounding me and to be among fresh-baked bagels. I just hope someone remembers the cream cheese.

Habit vs. Intention

Food intimidates me. That's hard to admit, since I'm supposed to be counseling others about it. I think it's because we have overcomplicated food, among other things in this world. The food industry has generated fears around food and then created products to alleviate those fears. It's really messed up, but I find myself getting caught up in it, even though I'm eating mostly whole foods. 

When I feel the most intimidated by food is around trying something new. I've come a long way from where I once was, but I have found myself in somewhat of a rut preparing the same things in the same way over and over and over. Granted, sometimes it's because I've got no creative juice left in me at the end of the day and just need to get some food on the table with no time to search for new recipes, but most often, I'm just doing what's easy and what I know.

This week, I was reminded of the Thirteen Attributes of Godliness shared by Rabbi Rami. Jews chant these attributes when they are feeling cut off from God to awaken to one's true nature as the Image and Likeness of God. The one I remember this week is

El/God the Creator/Creativity

The idea behind this part is that each day is new and fresh and we have the opportunity to avoid repeating yesterday. If we repeat the day before, we are living from habit, not intention. I don't want to live out of habit. I find myself again staring at the awareness factor--waking up to life all around, rather than limping along with the same old stuff.

Without knowing it, Crabtree Farms has presented me with an opportunity to break some of my habitual food prep patterns. We are members of their CSA program, and I love it. It keeps me on my toes to get me out of the "same ole, same ole" rut when it comes to food. Sometimes, food shows up in my box that totally intimidates me. I smile and act like I'm really excited to try something new, making small talk about the new food and how I might use it in the coming week. But inside I'm thinking, "What the heck is kohlrabi? This is the weirdest looking food I've ever seen. What am I going to do with it?" So when my buddy Candice invited me to consider writing the weekly newsletter attached to each box of food and include recipes for the items in the box, I had to do some serious deep breathing to get over the intimidation I felt. My initial response, inside my head, was, "Thanks for this opportunity, but I've got a lot going right now and don't want to take on too much." What I wrote in my email to her was, "Wow! Thanks for asking--I'd love to help do this--let's talk about the details." Let me be clear--I have not been chanting the Thirteen Attributes. How then did this response find it's way to my email outbox?

So maybe I'm making more progress on stepping out there and living with more intention than I realize. I can see it showing up in my spiritual practice, too. I think I may have actually spent at least 5 minutes everyday this last week in scripture reading and/or silence. I ran into my pre-natal yoga instructor and had an impromptu lunch with her, which yielded some great conversation and connection spiritually. I also attended class of a new yoga friend, who is going to be a great resource on my continued spiritual journey. I have set my intention to join a regular class following our next Academy session. All this feels like movement forward--with intention. And that feels really good.

Control

I have really been watching how food gets used in our culture these days, especially with kids. We use it as a bribe, denial, or reward most often. It seems to me like we use food to control how others will behave. As this observation was swirling in my head, my email spiritual adviser, Fr. Richard Rohr from CAC, reminded me of this: Control freaks are usually afraid of losing something.

Um...are you talking to me? Surely not. You didn't read this post. I'm not a control freak. I'm working on letting go. I'm just making observations about what other people are doing. Not me.

I kind of thought I'd made some progress, but then I stepped out of my body for a minute to take an honest look at my life. I have to confess that I have a nice coating of sugar covering up my true self these days. It's a sugar layer because if there is something sweet in the room it must be in my mouth. Unfortunately, the sweet coating doth not a sweet disposition make. It's actually the opposite. I get more possessive and controlling--about everything. Just ask my husband.

So then, what is it I'm afraid of losing? What fear is driving me to over-exert control in all aspects of my life?

I've got no good answers today. But I do have another good quote: "You will never have such security in God as when you realize you can't control God" (Yearning Minds and Burning Hearts, Carney & Long).
As I continue to work on letting go, I pray that my security in God will gradually wipe away my fear and my need to control will melt away this sugar outer-coating.

Order

Howard Thurman gave me a great gift today. I have been spending a good part of my day on Wednesdays reading and sitting in silence. Part of my reading has been to complete Disciplines of the Spirit. While it has had some wonderful insights all along, the final paragraph was exactly what I needed to hear. Here's an exert:

"The experience of love is either a necessity or a luxury.

If it be a luxury, it is expendable;
if it be a necessity, then to deny it is to perish."

I cannot get away from thinking of everything now as either a necessity--absolutely, positively cannot live without it--or a luxury--it's nice to have, but I won't die if it fades. Wow. 

Clearly food is a necessity, and I've already posted some about the food that's best for me--the necessary fuel to fill me with more love and compassion for the world. I've been thinking about other life giving things, as well as using these terms to help me order decisions surrounding me at the moment.

Because I did not get enough silence and time alone over the holidays, which I know I need, I have not been compassionate friend #1 to anyone the last several weeks. Including myself. So that's where I'm starting today. I have already begun to ask what is necessary for this moment--a clean kitchen or 20 minutes of silence and deep breathing? everyone in bed early or time together having a "dance party"? clean clothes or cat nap on the couch? talking to a friend or a trip to the gym? taking one more night-time client or setting aside time with my spouse?

Thank you, Mr. Thurman. I pray that this new order for my life will keep this person from perishing.

yes = no

I just read a wonderful Daily Meditation that was just the inspiration I needed. I'm feeling really stuck and unmotivated in the new year and just pretty much bleh, especially concerning my spirituality. So I was surprised to have an email spark something in me today.

The underlying message was this: Christianity has moved a long way from what Jesus instructed as a path for our lives. He was all about our lifestyle--how we interact with the world--which is something we have to work on each day. It never ends. Unfortunately, we have made Christianity more about "what I believe" (or don't believe for that matter), which involves no action. We can live inside our heads forever and have no real life change as a result. I like the idea of thinking about Christianity as a lifestyle, rather than a list of "Yep--believe that" and "Nope--can't go with you on this one."

Of course, I have to relate this to food. There is a lifestyle component to food, too. I have set my lifestyle up in such a way to accommodate my food choices. It's important to me to know where my food comes from, to prepare my own food, and to share it around the table with people I love. It takes planning and work everyday. Because I've said, "Yes" to this way of life, I have had to say, "No" to many things (like  McDonald's, high fructose corn syrup, hydrogenated oils, and a host of other things, but I digress). 

Same with an intentional Christian lifestyle choice. I have to work on it all the time. As I understand or encounter the Divine in a new way, my lifestyle changes in small ways or in dramatic, larger-than-life ways. It strikes me that this is what Jane was talking about when she mentioned that we have spiritual practices in our lives already. We just have to recognize and claim them as such. I've got to wake up to how I'm actually living and see if it is actually part of a Christian lifestyle.

Is 2010 my "Yes!" year? I've done a pretty good job claiming "Yes!" with exuberance and determination as it relates to my food. I'm ready to have that same zeal in defining and claiming my Christian lifestyle.

Slow or Fast?

I've been pondering the new season upon us--early winter. As it relates to food that means more meat, beans, stews, and soups. With the cold outside, I'm loading up on warming foods and trying to stay inside wrapped up in a blanket on the couch as much as possible. It's the innate sense that it's time to hibernate for a bit. I have a very real longing for the natural need to shut down for a few months and get quiet.

I went to see Up in the Air last night, and a quote that keeps swirling in my head from the movie is, "The slower we move, the faster we die." Yikes! If this is true, I don't have many days left. Even before this season of cold descended, I was living slower on purpose. Now that winter is here, I'm trying to slow down even more. In my heart, I know it's the right thing to do. But it's difficult to live among the whirlwind of activity our culture has created to avoid slowing down.

The holidays have been particularly difficult for me this year. I think this disconnect may be one reason. At church I'm getting the message of  "Jesus is the reason for the season" and prepare your heart to welcome the baby by attending this long list of activities. The marketing experts are working overtime to convince me that their product is just what my loved one wants this year. Where do I start with the food piece? Both my family and my husband's have their traditions, and we had an addition this year with my sister, so the food was decadent and plentiful. But was I satisfied by any of this fanfare? Not so much.

Don't get me wrong, we had a fabulous Christmas day with my sister's family, my parents, and my in-laws and laughed at my 2 year old chewing 29 pieces of gum in under 3 hours and celebrated the installation of a brand new toilet to replace the 35 year old one. Great day, but the atmosphere of frenzy ramped up by a total sugar overdose left me feeling a little empty. I don't know that I ever really welcomed the Christ child. Come to think of it, I don't know if we even uttered Jesus' name on Christmas day. Actually, we did, at the end of the day when my mother asked where the baby Jesus was, since he wasn't in the manger of our nativity. Wow. Not exactly the tradition I want to establish for my son.

So here I am with too many leftovers and a sinking feeling that I have ignored God this Christmas. That's why I've got to slow down and embrace this season of hibernation. I need to simmer on myself while the beans are simmering on the stove and get connected again.

forced fast

Without my consent, I was recently forced into a week of fasting, both physically and technologically.

I'll spare the details of the food fast, other than to say, I didn't want or need any food for about 36 hours. I have to admit that having a break from the everyday task of food planning, prep and clean up was a welcome visitor at my house.

The technological fast occurred when my computer spit out a blue screen and text I didn't know how to decipher the same night my food fast was winding down. I was forced to seek expert advice, so I was without computer access for 3 full days.

Not surprisingly, I really loved having to give up both for a short time. It helped me focus on other things and people and become really mindful of how much time I spend thinking about food and using the computer--both of which are pretty self-focused. This fast, although forced, was a nice awakening for me. Looks like 2010 needs to include some intentional fasting.

Practice, Practice, Practice

My day was really disrupted. Wednesday is usually my "Academy Day" where I spend a good portion of it in silence and study and meditation and now in blog world. I was hijacked by a terrible storm last night that caused school to be canceled for today. Four extra people in the house, ranging in ages from 2 to 38, does not make for a routine Wednesday.

I did get to go for a run this morning, and by run I mean 6 minutes. I was up to 16 minutes, but have not been very regular getting at least 2 runs in each week. Yep, I've tanked on my running practice. So I started thinking of how other practices are going for me right now. Surprisingly, I have done well with my food for this time of year. With Thanksgiving, my birthday, and holiday events falling in line one right after the other, I usually give in and eat mostly junk amidst the commotion.

But something is different these days. A stirring within is calling me to be more conscious of my daily routine, especially the food piece. The practice is paying off. I wake up in the morning wanting greens for breakfast. Weird, I know, but put some fresh steamed kale on brown rice porridge with olive oil and garlic gomasio, and it sets me up for an awesome day.

That's why today was a total bummer. I didn't get to do my intentional spiritual practice that Wednesdays are set aside for, and I really needed it. While I'm feeling pretty balanced in my body with my food, I'm feeling relatively scattered in my spirituality. Today helped me realize that sometimes things show up unexpectedly, so being consistent about my daily spiritual practices is essential. I hear Jane's voice telling me to "wake up" to the practices I've got going in my life already. Perhaps with a little attention and intention I'll appreciate the disrupted moments and find practice within them.

I wonder what types of practice I'll begin to crave. I hope it's something as weird as greens for breakfast.

Sweet Potatoes

I adore sweet potatoes. My favorite way to prepare them is roasted. It's bare bones and wonderfully savory to me. There's something very soothing about them. That's why I roasted some up for a friend this week. I wanted to share the love with her as she settles into life with a 3 year old and a newborn.

As I was preparing them for roasting, my awareness of sweet potatoes was heightened. Maybe it was due to my last post, but for some reason, I was more aware of  their raw beauty than I have been before. I lingered over washing them and noticed all the bumps and scars unique to each potato. The skin felt really rough in my hands, something I'd never really stopped to notice before. Then I cut them open, and the color shocked me. Yeah, I know, sweet potatoes are orange, but for some reason these were particularly stunning. They were smooth and rich at their core. After chunking them up, I drizzled olive oil, sprinkled a little sea salt and pepper, and roasted them until they were tender to a fork. I had to sample, just to be sure I wasn't taking junk to my friend, and they were divine. So simple, yet so yummy. The oil and minimal seasoning really complimented their flavor and who could see the imperfections I noticed in their raw form.

Naturally, I began simmering on what I can learn from these root veggies, especially since I'm trying to go naked these days. Here are a few thoughts:

1. Scars are necessary for growth. Give thanks for their presence in my life. In the end, they are hardly visible.
   
2. What color am I on the inside? Am I vibrant and alive?
   
3. Keep it simple by being me, which reminds me of a sermon I heard in seminary titled, Do You Know Who You Are? Then Why Don't You Act Like It? Sweet potatoes know who they are. They don't try to act like kale.
4. Find ways to compliment my true nature. It takes very little to bring out the delicious flavor of sweet potatoes.

I feel confident more simmering is in my future. Think I'll whip up another batch of roasted sweet potatoes while I continue to ponder.

Exposed

One of the things about whole foods I love is its nakedness. It's totally raw--nothing to cover it up. I try to prepare food in a way that honors this fact so I get the goodness of its true nature without smothering it in heavy sauces or too many herbs & spices.

I have a hard time exposing myself in the same way. It's why I can't believe I started a blog. I'm one of those "private people" who doesn't reveal too much about myself until I feel extremely comfortable or have a deep connection with someone. I have spent a lifetime hiding my inner most feelings, so when I feel the least bit vulnerable, I shut down--wall goes up and communication ceases. I like to keep myself covered up in a nice cream sauce.

I need to take a lesson from my whole food buddies by honoring my raw self. If I love rawness so much in them, why can't I love it in myself, too? I can! So I'm going to start by letting go of the sauces, creams, herbs, and spices I have piled onto myself to cover the real me up. Yep, it's time to get naked.

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.