Part deux. Food.

2) On food relations:

Holy moses!  Who doesn’t like to talk about what they eat??  To continue with the theme of my last post, I asked The Boys what their relationship is with food.  These gents described their noshing habits through a wide scope of careful, mindful, delicate and loving, as well as one of reward and punishment.  I’m finding it near-impossible to condense their responses into an overriding statement, so instead of attempting that—here are a few of my personal faves. 

First:  “I love to cook with my girl. Cooking is a time where we can be together and be creative.”  I love this.  Because it’s a reminder that what we consume is so much more than simply fuel, while breaking down the oft-used stereotype that men see it exclusively as that.  Because it’s a reminder that food can simultaneously be an experience, and an expression.  Because it’s just SO DAMN SWEET.  And again with the creativity!  Whether it’s a huge thanksgiving dinner, late night pasta on the couch or early morning coffee at my parent’s table- when I think back on some of my favorite gatherings of loved ones it revolves around the kitchen.  And in the preparation of food for loved ones—with loved ones—there lies an unspoken ritual.  My grandma’s hands as she rolls out the lefse, to get them just so.  The caught, filleted walleye soaking in a stainless steel bowl at the lake.   The go-to meal my Dad makes when one of us needs warming, healing, or cheering up.  Somehow that one room seems to contain more memory, safety and warmth than an entire photo album of snapshots.  And the food that is made with so much love and care—is it possible that we can actually consume that positive energy, in a small way?  Exploring this idea through it’s opposite; the alternative has been argued as well… that by eating animals (ones that have been brutally butchered) we’re in turn absorbing that hurt and anger vicariously.  Sometimes, a song can say what my rambles can’t articulate:

Boogie Down Productions “Beef:

Let us begin now with the cow

The way it gets to your plate and how

The cow doesn't grow fast enough for man

So through his greed he makes a faster plan

He has drugs to make the cow grow quicker

Through the stress the cow gets sicker

Twenty-one different drugs are pumped

Into the cow in one big lump

So just before it dies, it cries

In the slaughterhouse full of germs and flies

Off with the head, they pack it, drain it, and cart it

And there it is, in your local supermarket

Red and bloody, a corpse, neatly packed

And you wonder about heart attacks?

Not to say that every meal should be a ceremony, but maybe there’s something to saying grace and showing respect for what we’re taking in.  And hey, having a small ritual of thanks doesn’t necessarily need a religious connotation… but often it does.  When I asked one friend what his relationship is with food, he answered “To remind myself of my relationship with God on a daily basis”.  This particular bud has a dietary restraint that is deeply rooted in his belief system, and goes on to say that it makes him take a moment before acting on impulse.  This generates mindfulness, and recognition that what we’re taking in effects us on a larger level than just a wicked hangover or a bit of bloating.  But for those of us without the benefit of a similar spiritual practice- I don't want to get overly precious here.  I need a fast sandwich and a coffee on the go as much as the next person… every morsel doesn’t need to be a ceremoniously loving, and revered act.  But.  There is value in knowing where our food comes from, and what it means to be cooking that food and putting it into our bodies. “You get what you put into it... Read the ingredients.” 

If anything else, I think a powerful and overriding theme here would be mindfulness.   Now stay with me, I’m going to briefly foray into some actor-y talk… but there’s a connection I promise you.  Recently I’ve attended some workshops that utilize techniques like relaxation and sensory to get into the scene study.  Sensory exercises are just what they sound like; they draw on a personal database of sights, scents, tastes, feelings and sounds to manifest a connection to the work.  For example—if your scene is set in a rainy park: how does the rain feel on your skin, what does it smell like, and what sound does the soggy grass make when you sloosh your foot into it?  (Sloosh: not a technical term… and yes, made up.  But ok, if this was a graphic novel and my cartoon-self was pulling a boot out of mud, it would go *thwuck*  yeah?) Because of this class I’ve started taking more time in my daily life to pay attention to sensory experiences… that of course includes taste.   So, when was the last time you really tasted your food?  I mean really—and not the expensive wine and steak dinner, either— because I don’t think it’s necessary to shell out crazy cash to somehow earn the right to savor what we eat. But on a smaller scale…  I mean can we talk about figs, people??  I’m pretty sure I had a small love-affair the other morning.

“I’m going to tell you why I’m skinny. I can’t find nourishment. I’m not talking about food now, which I think you guessed. I’m talking about the world. The world does not nourish me.  At least at the moment. Do you know what I’m talking about?” (“Let us go out into the Starry Night” by John Patrick Shanley). The reinvestigation of my senses has lead to a greater awareness, and gratefulness, for all the things that I find nourishing in my life: the food I eat, the people I love, and the world I tread.  I think we could all ask ourselves what those things are… sometimes it may simply be what tastes good, other times a somewhat bitter encounter of the truth. 

I think just being mindful of this is a great place to start.  And whether it’s acknowledged with a prayer or a high five, I plan to do a whole lot more of it surrounded by the people I love.

Josephine