Food Review

I’ve waited to post about my October Unprocessed progress until I could coordinate time + computer + internet + camera. Silly endeavor. I had all of it yesterday but forgot the important part that is found in the plus signs…my memory. You will just have to take the words minus the image for now.

Aligning all these bits means that I missed Multitude Monday. Missing the counting and camaraderie, the fellowship is like having the flu on the day of your best friend’s birthday party. You miss the seeing, and being in the wonder of the day. It can mean that there is rapt attention on the next go around…the next moment of awe, the next flutter of wings or sound of crunching leaves. Grace especially in the absence of things loved.

What I’m finding as the words tumble and bump out of my fingers, and around in my mind in the quiet of night is this. It began with soap and forgiveness. Last Thanksgiving, the path widened and gave rest when I needed to learn to eat and not fast. Now, this month, nearly one year later is for nourishment before growth.The land of my life has lain fallow for long enough.

October Unprocessed has been the nudge back to the kitchen. A reminder that I love markets and farms and food. Finding that a well-made, fresh dinner alone is a deep sigh of hunger escaping in a way that the ease of take out pizza could never be, for all of its convenience it saves nothing.

One of this month’s blog contributors over at Eating Rules said that you already wasted your money when you bought the processed chemicals in a frozen box, throwing it in the garbage does less damage than just eating it because you hate to waste. I agree, but I can understand the economics of it. I also understand how walking one more day in the same shoes, on the same path can make the first step off the path seem so much more daunting, heavy, absolutely undo-able.

Most of the month and this challenge are behind me. My body craves real food and I can understand when I am hungry, although sometimes it is still hard to remember that what I feel is  hunger is often thirst. This is the time to finish and evaluate what it all means to me. For without reflection, there will be no tie into my life and habits and this page of the calendar will fall to the floor, used up.

I am grateful for the lessons from soap, and soup during a fast. Thankful for art through it all–journals and collages, coffee cup cuffs and letters to children across oceans. Lifelines each one. Who knew that paper and glue could hold a life together, that making soap to clean off dirt could rinse your soul with reminders of the only blood that cleans stains. Glad that I know the Who, even if I don’t understand the why.

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