Fruits of the Earth

Consider this question:

What does food mean?

Beautiful Food

Dim-Sum Portabellas with Peanut Sauce

Now before you rush to formulate an answer, think about it one more time–this time, a bit more thoroughly.  Take a deep breath.  Inhale.  Exhale.  Perhaps ask someone in your vicinity to ponder it with you.  Compare a few observations.  Consider each word of the question independently; maybe rearrange them within the sentence.  You might google the question and browse the subsequent articles and blog posts.  Wade with a purpose through the pool of ideas, and ask yourself what you’re being asked, why it’s being asked, and about the function and implications of your response.

What  does  food  mean to  you ?


Purple Cauliflower

And before I give you a lesson in answering questions, let me give you my response–a gift from my mind, just as foods are gifts of the earth.

It begins, perhaps, with the sun.  The energy of this particular star warms the earth.  It breathes light into plants, and stardust manifests as fruits and organic sinews.  Animals like humans rearrange these cosmic compositions into intricate systems of cells and tissues that, in turn, comprise an even more complex organism.  Our molecular existence is consistent to and concurrent with the magnificent macro-organism that we call the universe.  The tide of the seas is the clock of the harvest is the web of spiraling celestial bodies through space and time.  The survival of humanity is directly dependent on our ability to render energy from food.  We thank the earth for capturing and providing nourishment to our mind, our body, and our spirit, and we are forever bound, metaphysically, to the lifeblood of the organism.

This is why we eat.  We perform a sacred, millennia-old ritual that continues to sustain organic growth, within us and around us.  We don’t eat to appease the pains of hunger, but to satisfy a low tide of life materials; to find peace in the cycles of cellular restructure, and understanding in the worship of such a savory miracle.

In the time you’ve so generously taken to read this, you may have eaten an entire meal.  You may have poured a bowl of cereal and scarfed it down before the end of the first paragraph.  You might feel guilty about something you ate.  You may have not eaten today.  I can only hope that you take my question to heart, to body, and to mind, for a moment longer than it takes you to fill your stomach.  Often it only takes a brief, intent moment to really listen to your body and to understand it–and yourself–a little better.

I can only hope that some of you feel similarly as I do about what you eat, and how you go about eating it.  We so often ignore what it means to eat, either because our busy lives don’t allow it, or simply because we take it for granted.  Eating may feel like a coping mechanism, like ice cream.  It may feel like an irrevocable accompaniment to an experience, like movie-theatre popcorn.  It could tear you up, like a deflated soufflé or an argument over vegetarianism.  Like backyard barbecues, it might summon nostalgia, or bring people together.

Harvesting Salt from the Sea

But food means so much more than why or how we eat it.  I won’t preach about the effects of industry on the freshness of food and on the well-being of farmers.  I won’t preach either about the ethics of meat processing or the controversies of genetic modification.  Nay, I won’t preach about our growing health problems, nor the problems we face pretending to solve them.  I won’t preach about the growing divide between man and his sacred sustenance.

But I will teach you how to feed your existence with materials of growth, wellness, and understanding. And I will share with you the discovery that I’ve made:  that we can give ourselves the gift of good food every day–food that feels and tastes right, that gives us what we need and want in order to grow and learn and run and climb and feel and explore and love and be.  Food whose beauty at which we marvel, that we’re proud to share with others or to covet for ourselves, because we recognize its value.

I dare you to spend time thinking about the kind of food that’s farm-fresh, produced locally, and prepared with a complete understanding.  Go on a scavenger hunt for farmer’s markets in your area.  Try out some new recipes with fewer, higher quality ingredients.  If you’re feeling gutsy, start your own vegetable garden.  Recycle organic matter by building a compost pile.  If you want to start rather small, dedicate some effort towards a potted herb garden in your urban window, or even a pocket wall garden.  Educate yourself with multiple sources about everything you consume, even indirectly.  Give yourself the gift of sustainability, make the time to prepare and cherish a meal, and reclaim the right to freshness and to your full health.

Good eats.

KB

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