Honoring My Body

Hey everyone. So I haven’t written a post myself in a bit, and usually when I don’t post it’s because of two reasons. I don’t have time, or I’m not sure what I want to say. Granted this blog is considered a food blog, it’s also a place where I find parallels and intersections between food and philosophy, or I may simply want to tell a story. Well, today I was talking to a very close friend of mine (some of you may know her as “Veggie Girl”, which she is no longer hehehe). We were actually reunited the other day at her dance competition!

   

Anyway, so I was talking to her and we were discussing bodies. At one point I had mentioned that when I think about all of the tasks our bodies do, in a matter of time that we can’t even grasp or imagine… well, that is something that inspires me to respect it. You see, with my soul and ego I have more control over the cause and effect. But with my physical body, I can’t entirely decide how my body will respond. I definitely play a role though. What I subject it to whether it’s food, environments, thoughts, or what have you… all play a role in how my body functions. So that’s what I want to share today. The idea of respecting my body, and what that means to me as of late.

I’ve been becoming more intuitive with knowing what to do when I feel out of balance. I’ve also become more aware of what may throw me out of balance, and gravitating towards certain foods depending on how I feel.

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Insights Can Come In Small Ways

Hello, hello! Today a friend told me that she spotted an article I submitted to Apartment Therapy featuring my parents’ garden. I had planned on sharing some of my latest memories from their garden already, so that exciting news came in seamlessly! Check it out:

Katharina’s Food Revolution

With that in mind, I just want to express some mushy love towards my parents. Like the article said, in the beginning when I was studying I left a tiny garden behind for my parents to watch over. Low and behold when I came back, it was untouched and had dried up. It’s okay though… no hard feelings, Mom and Dad! But a few years later, my parents stepped up to their own plates and started a venture into the world of organic gardening. I think it’s an examples of all those sayings that talk about going on or making our own paths. What’s important to each of us is something that we discover through our own experiences, and we add them to our files, sometimes making them a part of our daily priorities. And the thing is… what matters to me may not matter to someone else. Hearing about the beginnings of the garden when I’d talk to my parents on the phone, and seeing its growth on each visit–especially during my last one–has been a joyful experience. From  my parents triumphantly sharing the gardens’ bounty, to hearing about all of the efforts that go into keeping an organic garden. It’s just helped bring something back into my parents’ spirits that I can hear in their voices and see in their eyes. It lies within their hearts. I must say though, that I’m glad that me and my family have a strong kinship, made even stronger by being able to share the things we care about. It wasn’t always like that either though.

Shades of red

Actually, taking a step back, I think this garden has inspired and revived a wholesome way of being within my family. Much how I meditate on the parallels between life and what goes on in a kitchen or a yoga mat, my family has been living those lessons through the garden. A garden doesn’t just come out of nowhere, unless it’s the Garden of Eden. Although things do grow in the wild, there is a caring and thoughtful energy that goes into tending a garden. You learn where the plants seem to thrive the most, next to which plants, how much to water them, when to water them, rubbing olive oil on their leaves to protect them from hungry worms, all their little secrets. Similar to how we take care and learn from  the relationships we have with people in our lives. When I would walk through the garden, checking up on the plants, I would breathe out a loving feeling. After all, they do “eat” CO2. And as I’m walking through life I see my words and actions as a bridge–a connection–to this world. An opportunity to build one.

A tiny plum tomato meets something its own size… my eye!

With tomatoes being picked by the basketful, my family was coming up with ways to prepare them, aside from popping them into our mouths.

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