Dig In, Enjoy, Bon Appetit, Buon Appetito....
I love the pre-meal ritual. Every culture has their own meaningful yet unique rendition. Sometimes its a prayer, sometimes its a toast, sometimes it's merely a string of words that bequeaths a type of blessing over the food on the table & the people on it's outskirts. The Sicilian woman in me loves them all.
How interesting that across all races & religions there is a respect for nourishment, the body & the convergence of the two so much so that a ceremonial routine of sorts was created to introduce the two together. "Food, meet body. Body, this is food. Nice to meet you both..."
Gross overstatement; but, there is a beauty in the protocol no matter the motivation (your body is a temple, you are what you eat, etc).
Another layer of this reverence that went unnoticed to me until recently is a universal "blessing" people display everyday without realizing. Picture this: you're at work & it is lunchtime. You have brought yours for today (insert typical lunch imagery) and place it nicely on your desk, ready to devour at your leisure. Right then, your best co-worker friend passes your desk, sees your arrangement of food on display and says....
What will they say? Well, depends on what you have in front of you but familiar does this sound familiar:
Food: Apples, nuts, cheese wedges & a smart water
Response: "Oh wow, you're so healthy. Ugh, that looks so good - I should eat more healthy."
Food: Microwaved mac and cheese cup & a coke with a crumbs cupcake for dessert
Response: "Look at you, I wish I could eat that way now but with my metabolism, sheesh..."
Or even...
Food:
There is this insatiable need to validate not only what we intake on our own accord but what we see other people eating. It's like you do something (run a 10K) and reward yourself with a beer and cheeseburger. All your friends say you deserve it and then comments ensue for no less than 2 minutes about the caloric intake versus the calories burned at the recent race.... you dieted for weeks, you deserve a splurge, blah blah blah. Meanwhile, at the same table, someone is eating a salad for the exact OPPOSITE reason. "I haven't worked out in weeks, I feel so lethargic. I just need to watch what I eat more."
It's like a never-ending soap opera saga. We must talk about and analyze what we eat every single day. Oh, and what others eat too.... AND what we are not eating.... or want to eat but can't...or use to eat...
Please understand, I'm not criticizing especially because I'm probably the one most guilty of commenting on anything that enters my mouth before it even gets there. This makes me an expert in pointing out though how mundane it is to think that over 30% of conversations revolve around FOOD? Not even the interesting parts like the rituals surrounding meals or new baking secrets or fads like cancer causing sugars (those only make up like 5% of the 30, wouldn't you say?). I'm smacking myself over the head in an effort to learn how to enjoy food more and talk less about what my next meal will or won't consist of ....
I fully embrace the fact that we are only given one body in this life and therefore must cherish it, nurture it and be patient with it in regards to food. That same body, however, must also be cherished in mind, nurtured in soul and receive patience in overall health because I believe it only feels like our stomachs act independently from our minds. They are more intertwined than we know. This is the true meaning behind dinner time practices to me, like why we crave family style sit-down dinners or leisurely meals rather than rushed lunch hours that are only 30 mins anyways. We want to respect what we eat by enjoying the content of the meal as well as its preparation, reception and even clean up.
My point, eating is a process that should be revered rather than rushed or over-calculated.
My wish for us as Americans living in a fast paced corporate world is to have more time to eat what we want, when we want and enjoy it. Everyone relishes these few and far between moments and for this, I challenge you to aspire for more. Don't succumb to fast food because it's convenient, find more time to charm yourself with cuisine, pay homage to the fare in front of you. Your body and your soul will thank you.
And by all means, pig out from time to time and mean it! For example, I ate an entire box of Crunch and Munch solo during a movie last night.... no shame - it was delicious. In fact, more delicious than normal because I replaced my usual mindless shoveling with an offering. Before each bite I said a silent but oh so significant thank you to those caramel kernels & I cherished my peanut breath all the way home.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Mangez Prie L'amour
I have to do it. I have to jump on the bandwagon and admit that yes, not only have I read the book Eat Pray Love once but I am in the midst of re-reading it each morning during my subway ride to work. What's worse, I am now going to use my blog as a means to ride that bandwagon a little further & actually talk about Elizabeth Gilbert's newest literary treasure. Why? Because I liked it.... and I admittedly didn't think I would. Why not? Well, I guess due to the fact that I don't consider myself a trendsetter or even a trend-follower in so far as I've noticed what entertains or seduces the vast majority does not usually amuse me. I'm also a bit rebellious. Certainly a voice inside of me recognized the amount of people caravanning to the movies or nearest bookstore on account of E.P.L. as "great for Gilbert but bad for Micky's determination to keep her individuality in check."
So how did I get here? Suffice it say my roommate had a copy laying around, I adore Julia Roberts & after reading Outliers & two David Sedaris books in a row - I needed a book "just like this." So there it was....
But something like 20 pages in, quelle surprise! I'm hooked - but maybe not for the same reason the mass population of women, all ages, were. Gilbert's story is secondary to me. It is the content of her religious discussion with the reader & more importantly the way she writes that got my attention. I'm in love with it. I quickly realize I have a literary crush on Elizabeth Gilbert. In fact, it may be more accurate to call it a lustful literary infatuation. 20 more pages. Yes, it's infatuation.
My roommate, who's book at this point I am using, gave me the heads up that you "fly through Italy" because of all the food and beautiful imagery but that "India moves a little slower" because it's more introspective, more dedicated to itself. Not to worry, things "pick up again in Bali because she is interacting with Felipe" and more of less closing out this chapter of her life which was spent abroad.
My experience: I flew through every chapter.
I flew so fast that before I finished the last page I was at Border's buying a copy for myself which would allow me to not only re-read this marvelous piece of work but to highlight and post-it note my very own edition. Why was I so hooked?!?
The answer was pretty obvious. If you know my two college majors it would be obvious to you as well (English and Religious Studies, by the way). Here, in one tiny book, was the evidence that something beautiful and so very personal could be written in such a way so that the English language & religions of the world would meet, play with each other & remain unscathed by the human propensity to damage or defame. And while this has been done before in memoirs, biographies or diaries published posthumously - Gilbert did it best, in my opinion.
She is witty, clever, fast-paced, honest, stimulating and (enter envy) non-judgmental. How she managed to write about her heavy experiences with her personal spirituality, the divine, life, friends and that inner-self everyone struggles against WITHOUT passing any judgment or carrying an apologetic tone through each chapter is beyond me. I was more than impressed - I was enthralled.
My one distinct and repetitive wish that follows me through day to day life is to "find the right words." I consistently feel like the passion I have for life paired with my fervor to love everything in site often leave me speechless... in a not good way. I have to search for vocabulary or even sentence structure to endow my message with intellect and poignancy. On rare occasions do I succeed and this makes me sad. I love to speak but I also love to listen & reflect upon what has taken place only then to have a resulting array of magnificent thoughts, provocative emotions & endearing words in my head. The minute I open my mouth however, I feel those thoughts turn spacey or overly logically. My emotions sound jaded and the words become disenchanted. Now, maybe I shouldn't be so judgmental and cautious about my ability to articulate, (or inarticulate) my speech (or lack their of). But it is indescribably frustrating to feel you have something worthy to say and can neither quiet your mind down enough nor vocalize these thoughts with a measure of success that does justice.
In Eat Pray Love, Gilbert did. And I think one reason I am re-reading her novel is to potentially double my chances at this technique rubbing off on me.
I have so many questions for her. I would guess that my questions are different than what most readers would ask her given the chance. The usual array include: "How do you answer to accusations of being selfish?" "Why did you want children with Felipe but not with your ex?" Or other follow up questions to the many intimate details she shares in this new-age style autobiography. My questions are more geared towards Elizabeth Gilbert, the writer. "Did you work on this book all along or only after the year was over?" "Was there any point at which you started to resent this manuscript or the book because of the toll it took on your creativity?" Etc.
This book answered a silent prayer I have offered up for a long time now. Please, let my voice, spoken and written, become a vehicle for the divine - the effortless fountain of love that exists across all religions, all cultures - so that I can find the proper words, the telling words, the encouraging words when I need them, recognizing it takes equal parts patience, eloquence and listening to do so.
There you have it. This is why I enjoyed the book so much & will do so for years as I continue to write and search for my own voice. I highly recommend this book to everyone, regardless of the reason. Wisdom can be found in many layers on each page of this paperback. You will, no doubt, see yourself in Liz more than once & challenge the way she thinks simultaneously challenging yourself. She is really on to something....
So how did I get here? Suffice it say my roommate had a copy laying around, I adore Julia Roberts & after reading Outliers & two David Sedaris books in a row - I needed a book "just like this." So there it was....
But something like 20 pages in, quelle surprise! I'm hooked - but maybe not for the same reason the mass population of women, all ages, were. Gilbert's story is secondary to me. It is the content of her religious discussion with the reader & more importantly the way she writes that got my attention. I'm in love with it. I quickly realize I have a literary crush on Elizabeth Gilbert. In fact, it may be more accurate to call it a lustful literary infatuation. 20 more pages. Yes, it's infatuation.
My roommate, who's book at this point I am using, gave me the heads up that you "fly through Italy" because of all the food and beautiful imagery but that "India moves a little slower" because it's more introspective, more dedicated to itself. Not to worry, things "pick up again in Bali because she is interacting with Felipe" and more of less closing out this chapter of her life which was spent abroad.
My experience: I flew through every chapter.
I flew so fast that before I finished the last page I was at Border's buying a copy for myself which would allow me to not only re-read this marvelous piece of work but to highlight and post-it note my very own edition. Why was I so hooked?!?
The answer was pretty obvious. If you know my two college majors it would be obvious to you as well (English and Religious Studies, by the way). Here, in one tiny book, was the evidence that something beautiful and so very personal could be written in such a way so that the English language & religions of the world would meet, play with each other & remain unscathed by the human propensity to damage or defame. And while this has been done before in memoirs, biographies or diaries published posthumously - Gilbert did it best, in my opinion.
She is witty, clever, fast-paced, honest, stimulating and (enter envy) non-judgmental. How she managed to write about her heavy experiences with her personal spirituality, the divine, life, friends and that inner-self everyone struggles against WITHOUT passing any judgment or carrying an apologetic tone through each chapter is beyond me. I was more than impressed - I was enthralled.
My one distinct and repetitive wish that follows me through day to day life is to "find the right words." I consistently feel like the passion I have for life paired with my fervor to love everything in site often leave me speechless... in a not good way. I have to search for vocabulary or even sentence structure to endow my message with intellect and poignancy. On rare occasions do I succeed and this makes me sad. I love to speak but I also love to listen & reflect upon what has taken place only then to have a resulting array of magnificent thoughts, provocative emotions & endearing words in my head. The minute I open my mouth however, I feel those thoughts turn spacey or overly logically. My emotions sound jaded and the words become disenchanted. Now, maybe I shouldn't be so judgmental and cautious about my ability to articulate, (or inarticulate) my speech (or lack their of). But it is indescribably frustrating to feel you have something worthy to say and can neither quiet your mind down enough nor vocalize these thoughts with a measure of success that does justice.
In Eat Pray Love, Gilbert did. And I think one reason I am re-reading her novel is to potentially double my chances at this technique rubbing off on me.
I have so many questions for her. I would guess that my questions are different than what most readers would ask her given the chance. The usual array include: "How do you answer to accusations of being selfish?" "Why did you want children with Felipe but not with your ex?" Or other follow up questions to the many intimate details she shares in this new-age style autobiography. My questions are more geared towards Elizabeth Gilbert, the writer. "Did you work on this book all along or only after the year was over?" "Was there any point at which you started to resent this manuscript or the book because of the toll it took on your creativity?" Etc.
This book answered a silent prayer I have offered up for a long time now. Please, let my voice, spoken and written, become a vehicle for the divine - the effortless fountain of love that exists across all religions, all cultures - so that I can find the proper words, the telling words, the encouraging words when I need them, recognizing it takes equal parts patience, eloquence and listening to do so.
There you have it. This is why I enjoyed the book so much & will do so for years as I continue to write and search for my own voice. I highly recommend this book to everyone, regardless of the reason. Wisdom can be found in many layers on each page of this paperback. You will, no doubt, see yourself in Liz more than once & challenge the way she thinks simultaneously challenging yourself. She is really on to something....
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Been a long time, been a long time, been a long lonely, lonely, lonely....
It's come to my attention - and with great fervor I might add - the type of woman/housewife/mother I am to be.
On a recent trip to Duane Reade, I had the pleasure of witnessing the first box of Halloween candy make its way to the shelf. In this moment of excitement prefaced by the all too common "Really? It isn't even October yet..." I had a day dream. Suddenly, I was 35 years old living in a generic suburban neighborhood. My house was custom built but not loud or austere. The perfect sized, all around brick two story. There were two cars in the driveway but only one of which was luxury, and from the feel of it, I could sense that I had two children - a boy and a girl - somewhere between the ages of 8 and 11.
In my daydream, it was fall. Spookily close to October, in fact. (Ironic given what was taking place in the real world outside this imaginary vision.) I was at a nearby drug store purchasing candy for the upcoming holiday (another irony.) But out of nowhere, panic! I could feel it - both in my dream and out of it. A light turning of the stomach, "I can't just get any normal candy" I thought to myself, "I have to get sometime that kids will remember. I don't want them walking away from my front door with anything other than a 'Yes, I LOVE this candy!'" Or better yet "Mrs. Micky is the COOLEST!"
Now. I realized what you're thinking. First, kids are fickle. By the end of a trick-or-treating marathon and average kid will have declared something along these lines no less than 5 times each. I don't weigh this factor in to my wishful praises. To hear it said is all that I ask. What happens prior to said statement or afterward is of no consequence to me. And second, yes "Mrs. Micky" - I am presumably married in my delusional stupor.
So why the need to be nominated by children under the age of 10 as "Best Candy-Giver on the Block?" Say what you will about a lack of love in my childhood or an insatiable need to please. The root of this is much more simple. I want to be thought of as "cool." This does not mean that I'm the pushover mom or the overly obedient housewife. It only suggests that staying on the vast majority of the neighborhood children's "awesome list" is important and maybe borderline necessary to me. I want them to feel I still have some sense of what they like, what they look forward to and what is important to them (however trivial is seems to the overly-grown grown-ups). A mutual respect, of sorts. You do your job as a child, I'll do mine as an adult and on occasions like Halloween, we will meet halfway.
Of course this entire realization took place in a matter of seconds as most dreams do. Quickly, I was back to grabbing the work necessities I originally came for: notebooks, milk for coffee, etc. But I also grabbed a a few varieties of candy. Once I was back to my desk, I took out a bowl and filled it with a nice even mixture of the picks I made. One by one, my fellow employee's would walk by and let out whispered but important "oohs" and "aahs" followed by the under-appreciated "Thank you." I'd smile unassumingly and revel in what now becomes my secret satisfaction, especially when I hear "Oh man! I love these things, haven't had one in forever..."
I've cheered up their day and they've cheered up mine in that "I still got it" kind of way.
On a recent trip to Duane Reade, I had the pleasure of witnessing the first box of Halloween candy make its way to the shelf. In this moment of excitement prefaced by the all too common "Really? It isn't even October yet..." I had a day dream. Suddenly, I was 35 years old living in a generic suburban neighborhood. My house was custom built but not loud or austere. The perfect sized, all around brick two story. There were two cars in the driveway but only one of which was luxury, and from the feel of it, I could sense that I had two children - a boy and a girl - somewhere between the ages of 8 and 11.
In my daydream, it was fall. Spookily close to October, in fact. (Ironic given what was taking place in the real world outside this imaginary vision.) I was at a nearby drug store purchasing candy for the upcoming holiday (another irony.) But out of nowhere, panic! I could feel it - both in my dream and out of it. A light turning of the stomach, "I can't just get any normal candy" I thought to myself, "I have to get sometime that kids will remember. I don't want them walking away from my front door with anything other than a 'Yes, I LOVE this candy!'" Or better yet "Mrs. Micky is the COOLEST!"
Now. I realized what you're thinking. First, kids are fickle. By the end of a trick-or-treating marathon and average kid will have declared something along these lines no less than 5 times each. I don't weigh this factor in to my wishful praises. To hear it said is all that I ask. What happens prior to said statement or afterward is of no consequence to me. And second, yes "Mrs. Micky" - I am presumably married in my delusional stupor.
So why the need to be nominated by children under the age of 10 as "Best Candy-Giver on the Block?" Say what you will about a lack of love in my childhood or an insatiable need to please. The root of this is much more simple. I want to be thought of as "cool." This does not mean that I'm the pushover mom or the overly obedient housewife. It only suggests that staying on the vast majority of the neighborhood children's "awesome list" is important and maybe borderline necessary to me. I want them to feel I still have some sense of what they like, what they look forward to and what is important to them (however trivial is seems to the overly-grown grown-ups). A mutual respect, of sorts. You do your job as a child, I'll do mine as an adult and on occasions like Halloween, we will meet halfway.
Of course this entire realization took place in a matter of seconds as most dreams do. Quickly, I was back to grabbing the work necessities I originally came for: notebooks, milk for coffee, etc. But I also grabbed a a few varieties of candy. Once I was back to my desk, I took out a bowl and filled it with a nice even mixture of the picks I made. One by one, my fellow employee's would walk by and let out whispered but important "oohs" and "aahs" followed by the under-appreciated "Thank you." I'd smile unassumingly and revel in what now becomes my secret satisfaction, especially when I hear "Oh man! I love these things, haven't had one in forever..."
I've cheered up their day and they've cheered up mine in that "I still got it" kind of way.
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