I have been getting the sense more and more that "diet" has nothing to do with a focus on what I eat, but with a focus on awareness or perhaps "an aware intention" toward
something as simple as the feeling of love...
...The beauty of appreciation of a tightly flowered head of purple green broccoli
...the heavy denseness and beautifully irregular shapes of garden grown tomatoes
...the hole-y leaves of kale partially shared with bunnies and butterflies
...the produce from a farmer or fisherman who's love for life itself tumbles out into the abundance of forms lovingly arranged on her roadside stand
of a bouquet of rainbow chard with its yellows and reds and whites and purples
...the little bit of rich earthy soil and creatures on the skin of a carrot that make their way into my salad
...and even the love for my life and reverence for my incomprehensibly miraculous body that somehow turns food into life, no matter what I choose to eat.
There's a feeling in all of that that I can easily follow and make choices from... it is slow, it is quiet, it is wonder and wonder, it is awe-full, it is contemplative and prayerful, it is "from scratch", it is incredibly
simple, it is bare, it is fresh, it is local, it is natural, it is un-added to, it is deeply connected, it is subtly and yet immensely rich.
There's a completely different feeling in quick, in processed, in boxed, in canned, in sterilized, in frozen, in refrigerated, in micro-waved, in "perfect-looking", in packaged, in plastic-wrapped, in shipped and shelved, in sprayed, in commoditized,
in maximized, in efficient, in marketed, in rushed, in convenient, in enhanced.
Just in that feeling, I don't have to know anything
about calories or fats or sugars or vitamins or minerals or points or numbers, other than perhaps what my body occasionally draws my attention to. Instead I just look for and feel the love and beauty and joy and humour and magnificence in all the food before
me... and when I do, the choice is always ridiculously obvious and simple.
And when I make choices in all my many moments that are
blindly habitual and much less aware, I remember that I am human, and I laugh, and my soft squishy jiggly belly laughs right along with me.
With Love and Laughter,