Everyone on this planet has a calling.
Everyone. That means you, too.
Everyone is destined for something. Everyone is given a talent: a unique way to move and speak and think and feel as you navigate through the world. You do things in a way that no one else can.
No one can make other people feel the way that you make them feel.
“Healthy” no longer holds meaning in my world. How can it when it’s thrown around haphazardly like a hacky sack? It’s been hard for me to break up with it. Everyday I get asked: “But is it healthy? Can I eat it all the time? What about just a tiny portion? What about just for breakfast? Or for dinner? Four hours before dinner? What if I eat it in secret, does it count? What about only on my cheat day? Can I have a cheat day?”
Mostly everyone on this planet enjoys food. “Mostly” because we all know that one insipid person who doesn’t. Who “just eats to survive.” Um. Yeah, gross. I’m familiar with this fact because one of these people is my ex-boyfriend. Obviously, I was doomed from the get-go.
Among the actual fun camp are the people who adore food and the experience of eating but can stop when they’ve had enough. They’re capable of leaving delicious food on plates and forks and bowls and it’s forgotten into oblivion. They recognize when they deem they’re good and immediately get back to doing whatever else they’re doing that has nothing to do with eating. Talking, engaging, picking stuff up on the floor, doing dishes, watching TV, working. Food and thoughts of it have left the building. Good for them.
Some combinations are obvious. Things like chocolate and peanut butter or almonds and strawberries or salt and pepper. A best friend and you, a vacation and a margarita, a slow walk with serious introspection. Peas and carrots.
The less obvious combinations might be harder to discover but that shouldn’t discount the intensity of their synchronicity. Maybe you’re giving a chance to someone or something. Something that you’ve never tried before but have been curious about. You should. It might be worth it. If you don’t try, you never know what you could be missing out on. How amazing it could be.
Michael Pollan is known for many things, but his quote on how to eat, “Eat Food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” is krazy glued to his followers’ brains.
I agree with this, mostly.
I’ve tinkered with “how to eat” since the day I was born, obviously. I have to. Don’t we all? But the question of how to eat and what to eat and how much and when is a loaded machine gun. There has never been a time in the history of earth where this question has been more popular, contested, and frankly, annoying. Notions of “diet” and “healthy” and “good for you” are completely meaningless. Healthy cupcakes? Bad for you steaks? Bad for you vegetables? Good for you, sugar-laden everything? People ask me all the time, “but is that healthy?”, and the answer is always a long-winded explanation, because it’s multi-layered and SO individualistic. What’s healthy for me might not be healthy for you. And what’s healthy for you might not be healthy for me. I think we need to guide ourselves by what foods make us feel like shit and what foods don’t make us feel like shit. And Michael Pollan’s quote is good in the sense that he’s promoting eating that is unprocessed, whole, and from the earth. But what comprises the other when it’s “mostly” plants?
Fall is my favorite season for all of the boring reasons. I love being warm and snuggly, I would have the smell of mulling spices glued to my lip if it didn’t look like a weird mustache, and I am head over heels for squash, brussels sprouts, and cranberries. But the real clincher for me, when I know fall is creeping up like the monster in LOST, is when I begin to see the gradual shift in produce. Golden summer stone fruit is slowly replaced by hills of apples. The red to green to yellow spectrum of repetitive orbs gleam so bright I can practically see my euphoric, hearts-instead-of-eyes face in them, and they indicate to me that fall has arrived.
I must be a perpetual infant because I LOVE SOUPS. I’m a pureed soup aficionado; the monotony of eating the same-flavored, same-textured bite over and over and over is appealing if the soup is good. Not only are soups incredibly delicious, they’re like a food-hug. They’re the way to make something glorious out of nothing and use up your sad, lonely, dying vegetables that you’re about to throw away. Don’t.