After doing a session of Pilates with The Balanced Life and a nice long walk around the neighborhood pond, it was time to eat. I found some fried rice in the fridge, heated it, added some butter, and it was truly terrible. Tossed it in the trashcan. I decided to order myself a take-out lunch from Zoe’s Kitchen, a recent habit now that the weather is warm. My tastes shift in Spring to want lighter foods, more salads, less casseroles, soups, and chili. I am a creature of habit. When I find a meal at a restaurant that I like, I will order it over and over and over again. It takes me a while to get tired of the repetition, and it reduces decision making for me. At Zoe’s I enjoy eating their salmon kebobs with spicy aioli sauce, their Greek salad, and turmeric rice. That Greek salad has such deliciously salty feta on it that I crave, and their vinaigrette is light and doesn’t give my heartburn (these things become important in middle age :)
So I come home with it, get some real silverware and my water, and settle into my spot on the back deck to enjoy a slow, uninterrupted meal. Within a few minutes I realize that I am inhaling my food. Instead of savoring it, really and truly tasting it, I am consuming it as if it will be the last time I ever eat. I told myself to take a deep breath, put my fork down, and chill out. This is not a new habit for me, but something that became part of how I eat when I had so many babies over the years, back to back. I got into the habit of always watching the clock, knowing a baby would need me or need to nurse at any minute, and so I became an efficiency machine when it came to food consumption. Food was less about pleasure and connection, and more about a quick pit stop for more Mom Fuel. I am someone who loves the table, meals, cooking, and hospitality, and yet, lingering is challenging for me. Some place inside of me still views the dinner hour as a low-grade emergency. Move quickly, get it on the table, scarf it down while it’s hot.
I am no longer in that season, and haven’t been for a while. My youngest is 9 1/2 years old which is crazy to believe. Here today I had a lovely opportunity to savor the kalamata olives, the tang of the aioli, and the tenderness of that salmon, but I was consuming it too fast, without mindfulness or attention. This beautiful meal, a gift, was a way to not only refuel my body, but to fill up my soul again. The art of dining invites all of ourselves, body, soul, and spirit. A meal can replenish our souls with visual delight, soothing aromatics, and a sense of care and comfort. Our hearts can be stirred spiritually towards gratitude as we recognize the gift of each bite and the ones who grew it or prepared it. Sitting down to a plate of food can feed us holistically if we choose to enter into it.
It took me until about halfway through my meal to realize the need to slow down. What a difference the rest of that experience was! I become more at peace, more engaged in my environment, happier with the moment. I felt privileged, grateful, and nourished. I relaxed and realized that I am not living in a season of hyper-vigiliance, being “on” every second with little ones, and that I can live into this new season with a deeper sense of rest. And looking back, I wish I had figured out a way to give myself more time and space to eat and had cared more for my bodily needs. But that’s a post for another day.
Let’s taste our food. Sit with it, savor it, move slower. It’s a gift to our whole selves to take time to dine in our homes, whether simple or elaborate, plain or fancy. All of it is good.
Aimee