In the last month, food has taken on a more significant meaning for me than I would have ever thought. My family already shushes me whenever food comes up as a topic and I can tell you that in my family, food is always a topic. We are consumers of food, which has become fraught with an inner conflict I had not expected. Twice in the last three months, I went to someone’s home and was served popcorn in an open “community” bowl, packaged candy in another bowl, and a stir-together mix in water drink-- not a sports drink, but close enough.
The first time, I thought this odd food contribution was because my hostess was such a career-oriented person she didn’t have time or interest in food. She obviously eats, but there are people who consider food as calories and nothing more. The second time at yet another home and with another hostess, I decided there was an anti-foodie movement afoot similar to the real men don’t eat quiche in places with hanging fern baskets movement back in the 80‘s. I should point out that both of these women live in upscale neighborhoods and have more than enough money to buy from a caterer or even a deli if they chose or didn’t have the time to prepare something themselves.
I will admit that my thoughtfulness until very recently extended only to how the food was grown and processed. I’m vegetarian bordering on vegan; however, when the grandchildren are around, I have found that in order to save our relationship, I have to be more accommodating. I’m the black sheep in the family anyway so my incessant monologue about the virtues of organic, homegrown, and minimally processed food only adds to my isolation and if you have grandchildren, you understand how being a little more lenient in food choices becomes a priority compared to them not thinking you are one cool grandma. Don’t get me wrong. We’ve talked about the differences in the foods they eat elsewhere and the foods they eat here, but once those tastebuds have been addicted to corn syrup, it’s difficult to have them eat things that aren’t highly salted, sugared, and full of fat. I have to say my grandchildren prefer fruits and vegetables for the most part, but also expect it to be cooked in a southern way, which I no longer do. This poses a problem when they visit my home, and the relevancy of this extends to the sacredness of the food itself as I stood convicted of not being thoughtful in how I presented my food choices.
After the second visit where popcorn served in big bowl provided the “sustenance” for a group of networking business women, I decided I needed to figure out why I was so bothered. First, it was the idea that today we would all dip our hands into the same food source. I’ve seen people using plastic gloves to pick out fruit and vegetables at the grocery store. I think that’s why the popcorn bowl sat untouched. No one knew if anyone else had pinched one from the top of the heap or not. They might have eaten it if there had been toothpicks to spear each little kernel. Most people eat food being given away by strangers holding trays at the mall if they can grab it by a toothpick. Since there were no toothpicks for the popcorn, I sensed some squeamishness on the part of the other guests. As for me, I don’t eat public food so dipping my hand in a shared bowl of popcorn is no go. I mean, what were they thinking?
Second, there was an obvious lack of “something.” This was what wouldn’t let go. I was sure serving bowls of popcorn had some meaning. I just couldn’t figure out what. I was also sure there was a bigger issue going on. Then I happened to pull out The Mystic Cookbook. I’ve had it for a few months and thought July would be a wonderful time to cook with a difference as that’s when freshest foods become available. When Denise and Meadow wrote about hospitality, I knew that was the something I couldn’t identify in the popcorn bowls. They not only accurately described what I felt was missing from my experiences at these ladies’ homes, but what I had been missing in my experience from the food I grow and buy, prepare, and consume, and what was at the root of our food problems globally. Hospitality is an indication that you’ve actually thought about your guests and how to make them feel welcome. It hit me that a friendly face does not necessarily mean a welcoming heart. There was no hospitality.
I’m not just criticizing them. I have as much or more to change. Although working in the garden for me is a mystical experience, I was not bringing that into my cooking and I was downright barbaric when it came to bringing it to the table or should I say the couch where I ate most of the time while watching some high-action/violent television show or movie. After reading the first page, I started eating at the table. This was especially difficult for me given my husband is out of town and I’ve been dining alone for the last couple of weeks. I took the Linn’s advice and set the table as if I were a gracious hostess and I was the special guest. I also stopped rushing in my food preparation. Now, a few minutes before time to start dinner I sit down with a glass of wine, some cheese, and fresh bread. It only takes 15 minutes, but I go over all the wonderful things that have happened in my day and the miracle of the foods I’m eating. Then when I start preparing dinner, I’m in a much better frame of mind. I set the intention for that meal, prepare it, and serve it at the table. I’ve integrated some of their suggestions, such as eating for abundance and choosing a table cloth and candles especially for that mindset. This month (starting today and for the next seven days) I will also prepare chakra meals.
The small changes in developing this as a habit have had enormous rewards for me personally. I’ve found that I actually enjoy mealtimes much more even though I’m eating alone most of the time. I’ve discovered how grateful I am for all the people who work to bring food to the stores where I shop, who grow the seeds that I plant, to God for all the millions of things that happen in nature so my plants will grow at all. I’ve even added music to enhance the experience. As a bonus, I’m feeling much more relaxed, I sleep more soundly, and I’m unexpectedly happier. The entire meal preparation, eating, and clean up takes no more time than when I was rushing through, eating in front of the television, and rushing to clean up. The major difference is I no longer feel stressed and anxious. The new feelings have even flowed over into the rest of my day.
The sacredness of food has been the missing element in what I’ve been trying to express to my family when I talk about the difference between eating processed and organic, homegrown and store-bought. The difficulty has been in trying to describe something that I truly wasn’t doing. I was not treating the preparation and the consumption of the food as a sacred act, as a way to connect with and be grateful for my body, the thousands of others who have worked to bring the food to me and/or who are eating the same foods, and God’s abundance.
Sacred mealtimes don’t resolve the world food crises, the problems with GMO’s, or the other challenges we currently face with our food supply. What it has done for me is provide the certainty that every person regardless of where he/she lives should have food security. Hospitality dictates that sitting down to eat should be respectful of others while providing for everyone’s needs and treating guests as equals in your home and at the table. It takes precious little thought to be a hospitable host regardless of whether you serve processed or organic food. Hospitality is an indication that the hostess actually considered her guests and that’s what was missing from my last two experiences. That’s what is missing in resolving the problems with the world’s food supply.
Acting on the sacredness of food takes hospitality to the next level. It means we do whatever is within our power to make sure all people have enough pure and nutritious food to eat every day. It also means we not only see, but fully understand and feel compelled to act when something or someone threatens to pollute the food source-- not just our own, but that of every other person. Treating food as sacred means we respect the food regardless of who will be eating it, that we provide for others as well as ourselves, and that we see that everyone has equal access. It makes for a mystical experience that not only will carry us through the day, but through life. I think this would be true even if we’re only eating popcorn.
