Food of Life

photos by patricia

Get to the root causes of why you overeat. Yes. Feed this body so it works properly.

What about the psyche, emotions, and the soul that searches for something never found? These crucial parts still crave satisfaction and wholeness.

I eat anxiety. I eat to feel better about the little girl lost, unloved and unprotected who to this day struggles with self-esteem and so much more. It is a desire and basic need that will forever go wanting because no one can go back and make it right…or safe.

At 64 I am only just learning to be kind to myself. That is key. Yet the constant challenges of confronting that harsh voice inside remains and needs work daily questioning its validity.

Food soothes. Food quiets the voice. But then another voice booms even louder, “You are fat, you are bad!” but it is one I’m used to from the age of 8 when food numbed the horrors. I go in circles and circles.

Keep at it, keep trying.

Waking to the birds, the humidity is thick. Taking coffee to the patio, bare feet against the cool cement, the nesting mourning dove calls hauntingly and sweetly back to her mate sipping water at the birdbath. They are on nest two. At this rate they will have three families by summer’s end. A tranquility descends into my being.

Each day a mystery. Will you feel fear, or be OK? Tame the beast of impermanence. Each day a challenge wrestling with thoughts, turning them around, finding the peace restlessly craved; a quietness in the soul that when found allows textures to be felt, scents to be absorbed, and moments to be full…

PEACE

photo by patricia

Peace is restored. Daily tasks sublime in their normalcy bring me into the present moment. The morning sun warms my face through the window as the hot soapy water glides off the silver kettle and makes bubbles on my hands. 

Typical ‘the Donald’ morning news stories  playing on the TV in the background unnerve my repose. My stomach curdles fearing the future of our planet and the very air we breathe. The newly elected president seeks to destroy anything of worth or value, even the future of his own grand-children for the sake of pleasing his supporters who voted him in. My spirit sinks as world leaders castrate his pulling out of the Paris Environment Agreement feeling sickened and ashamed of what he has done. 

Thankfully my massage therapist had a cancellation. The scent of luscious oils permeate my being the moment I walk through the door. I know in a few moments lavender oil with be lavished on me. She was drawn more to the impinged shoulder than the stiff neck. 

“I can see that it’s swollen and feel that it is warm,” she says working the area carefully while I wince. “Ice it twice a day,” she adds. We schedule several more visits every two weeks. One more self care task added to the ever growing list. I leave feeling refreshed. Her touch soothes and heals. 

The hummingbird zooms in behind my head to the feeder while sitting having coffee on the patio the next morning. The sun peeks out warming me thoroughly. Dew glistens like diamonds on the hostas. Papa dove swoops into the nest on the porch next to Mama as if to ask, “Do you need a break?” 

The morning is spent doing nothing except being. Yet that accomplishes a great deal that is healthy for the body as it unwinds and relaxes inside and out. 

photo by Cory

 

BLOOMING PROPERTY

A walk around the house…

Waking the feelings of sadness pull me down and easily defeat efforts of a productive day. Determined to not let an aging cat cripple me with negativity I push myself out onto the meadow. The day sparkles with sunshine not matching my mood. 

On lap five I lay down in the shade on the gentle bank filled with lilacs standing guard offering protection to the precious ever expanding area of lily of the valley.  I begin pulling the stems then relax asking what’s the hurry? Where are you going? This is what you are doing and where you are. Be here and now. 

The scent fills the empty places. Breezes caress my body as the sun flickers through the leaves making moving patterns around me. I say my prayer and it is heard as my insides unwind and pull in the beauty around me. 

Help me be grateful, feel peace and ease my fears. 

I go in for my camera and take a walk around the house filling my soul with more ‘food.’ 

Do Not Disburb the Peace

photos by patricia

The golden-red glow of the morning sun colors the room with rosy reflections. Pondering the peacefulness, not wanting to disturb it, knowing its grace can be disrupted easily by tiny sudden occurrences due to my tendency towards instant adrenaline rushes… I say a prayer of thanks.

Glorious spring calls me out each day. Little jobs bring deep pleasure. During the meadow walk a basket of rich dirt for the creek garden where my four year old grand-daughter swings hangs in the crook of my arm. She’s been promised a garden with flowers all her own.

Sitting on the lush grass, the birds singing melodies overhead, Cosmos, bulbs, and zinnias are tenderly planted at the base of the tree by the swing. Pausing, looking up while inhaling the fresh air, a feeling of peacefulness wraps her warm arms around me. 

Heading back to the vegetable garden, settling onto the grass once again, chives, basil, and parsley seeds are sowed with visions of upcoming home-made pesto and other luscious, fragrant dishes.

The sweet scent of lilacs hits like a floral wave when turning by the hedgerow after each lap around the grassy meadow. The greens after a dreary winter unfold in their various hues turning greys and browns to a myriad of tints dotted by explosions of complimentary colorful blossoms from cherry, apple, pear and magnolia trees.

The silly mourning dove insists on making her nest once again in the clematis vine that climbs up the porch attached to the new deck. When we sit on the deck she becomes frightened and flies off worriedly keeping an eye on the eggs and us. It makes use of the deck too guilty a pleasure and instead we sit inside the porch to honor her incubation duties.

Mourning doves cannot be the sharpest tools in the shed because why make your nest where there is so much people traffic? But I love them dearly and the soft sing-song cooing that sounds so plaintive and sweet matching their dispositions.

Molly’s cancer progresses due to hearing the low rattle of air moving through her lungs. She is restless except when lying full out on my body exchanging our warmth, then she seems exceedingly content and almost unconscious. She still purrs and bats at toys, so has playful moments. Trips to the store to return food and try others have become too countless to count.

Finally the realization is that some days are better than others. No matter what is presented, whether home cooked chicken, hamburger, or the most expensive can of cat food, she is either up to eating or is not. It is hard to see her hurting, and tears come often along with the reverent prayer to know when is the right time to end it for her.

Each days holds so much. It is fuller by accepting that each one will hold both pain and pleasure.