Barely hanging on. My determination to stick to the fast dissipated on day 11. I caved at dinner when a server put a bread basket right in front of my plate. I caved later that night when somebody gave me a gift basket full of chocolate. Man... am I feeling it today! I am not ready to quit though... and I think we'll make this last week more spiritual than the previous ones. The first two were more about detox and health. The last one will be about restraint and pursuing our community. That should help strengthen our resolve for the last seven days!
Though the results of the first 12 days haven't been near as dramatic or noticeable as I was hoping (at least for me), there are some things I've noted:
1. Meal planning is significantly quicker because the meals are simplified. Adding meat and dairy adds so much more complexity - so much more planning and preparation.
2. Meal planning is essential. I must think about what foods are available and plan ahead - to prevent moments of desperation for things that don't really satisfy.
3. Food is personal. We've had more conversations about food than I can count. Everybody's background and culture contribute significantly to the things we choose to eat.
4. We don't know much about food. In many of our conversations, we'll discuss our beliefs about food. One friend was fully convinced grapes were completely empty of vitamins. Another promises the skin is the most healthy part. Another person swears by tomato juice. We aren't even sure what "whole grain" even really is.
5. I'm tired. The first few days I'd fall asleep by 10pm. The night I caved and ate chocolate (at 9:30pm) I was up until 3am. All those dang sugars...
6. It is readily apparent how stubborn I am. Some days I will literally wait until I am starving before I'll eat a fruit or a vegetable or a nut or a grain.
7. Fruit and granola tastes great. This is one new food I am hoping to continue eatting after the fast.
8. It is cheap. Cutting out animal products cuts out a lot of cost.
9. I just want to eat some chocolate.
Nine more days left!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Day 3 of 21
We started a 21 day detox this week – in an attempt to help ourselves make “healthier” food choices by breaking some of our addictions (to meat, sugar, processed stuff). Our current food choices include all vegetables and fruit, whole wheats, oats, barley, etc., nuts and beans.
The first two days my excitement about getting healthier sustained me. Today, though, I don’t want to eat any of the approved foods. I am thankful that I spend most of my days at the office because it helps limit my access. Today I sat at my desk starting at my salad, thinking I’d rather go hungry than eat it. But eventually I gave in to my hunger and consumed the salad.
You may be laughing – thinking how hard can it really be? But we are not fruit and vegetable people! I keep hoping that somehow this will change my attitude towards vegetables. Maybe I’ll actually want to eat them! But as my initial excitement wears off, my hope slowly diminishes. Today I dread eating – not another vegetable or fruit or bean please!
The first two days my excitement about getting healthier sustained me. Today, though, I don’t want to eat any of the approved foods. I am thankful that I spend most of my days at the office because it helps limit my access. Today I sat at my desk starting at my salad, thinking I’d rather go hungry than eat it. But eventually I gave in to my hunger and consumed the salad.
You may be laughing – thinking how hard can it really be? But we are not fruit and vegetable people! I keep hoping that somehow this will change my attitude towards vegetables. Maybe I’ll actually want to eat them! But as my initial excitement wears off, my hope slowly diminishes. Today I dread eating – not another vegetable or fruit or bean please!
Friday, May 09, 2008
Incomplete thoughts about pigs
The phrase "the pigness of pigs" keeps swirling around in my mind and I find my thoughts returning to it regardless of how irrelevant to the moment it is. I first came across this phrase as I was reading The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan. In this section of the book he was visiting a truly organic small farm in Virginia and working alongside the interns and farmers. The day he used the phrase is the day he witnessed the pigs plowing through manure. Unfortunately I can't remember all the details (like what animals did the manure belong to, chickens or cows?) but I'll try to paint a vague picture so you'll appreciate the phrase as much as I did. I guess that pigs like something in manure and as they plow through it the hooves of their feet compost the pile into incredibly rich soil (which is then put over the fields). Pollan was explaining the complexity of relationships on the farm and how beautifully the entire system works together.
He was amazed as he watched their little tails wiggle as they worked their way through the pile. I guess pigs are relatively intelligent animals and can express happiness and also despair. On this little organic farm, the pigs wiggled their tails in pleasure. In factory farms, their tails are cut off so that as they move through the assembly line, the pig behind them won't be tempted to chew it – as they tend to do when in despair.
I am laughing as I type – here I am talking about manure and pig tails. Yuck! I can't believe the kind of stuff my gnawing curiosity will drive me to read!
The book continues with a discussion on how both the organic and factory farm pigs are, in a sense, exploited. One exploits them as a matter of efficiency and production, the other as a way of "celebrating" what the pigs naturally love to do. The small, organic farm had mastered "the pigness of the pigs."
One possible reason this phrase is soaking in my thoughts is because of its correlation to what I believe Mosaic is attempting to do (as I said, in my mind.) There is a type of church that exploits humans for the sake of safety. The other exploits humans as a tool of empowerment to change the world. Utilizing the "humanness of the humans" in a sense. I think that one type of church is convinced all "humanness" is bad while the other is attempting to empower the parts of "humanness" that reflect the image of God.
In the end, both pigs will be slaughtered and it is the meat that will determine their end value. Some may argue that since both ways achieve the same end – why does it matter what method was used to get them there? It is a valid question, to be sure, and one I don't think I can address in this post. I know I am leaving so much left undiscussed...
I know that as I write about this I am over-simplifying in great ways. The "pigness of the pig" doesn't easily translate into the "humanness of the human", especially if the farm is substituted for the church. However, I think its worth some thought – I know it will be in mind for quite awhile.
He was amazed as he watched their little tails wiggle as they worked their way through the pile. I guess pigs are relatively intelligent animals and can express happiness and also despair. On this little organic farm, the pigs wiggled their tails in pleasure. In factory farms, their tails are cut off so that as they move through the assembly line, the pig behind them won't be tempted to chew it – as they tend to do when in despair.
I am laughing as I type – here I am talking about manure and pig tails. Yuck! I can't believe the kind of stuff my gnawing curiosity will drive me to read!
The book continues with a discussion on how both the organic and factory farm pigs are, in a sense, exploited. One exploits them as a matter of efficiency and production, the other as a way of "celebrating" what the pigs naturally love to do. The small, organic farm had mastered "the pigness of the pigs."
One possible reason this phrase is soaking in my thoughts is because of its correlation to what I believe Mosaic is attempting to do (as I said, in my mind.) There is a type of church that exploits humans for the sake of safety. The other exploits humans as a tool of empowerment to change the world. Utilizing the "humanness of the humans" in a sense. I think that one type of church is convinced all "humanness" is bad while the other is attempting to empower the parts of "humanness" that reflect the image of God.
In the end, both pigs will be slaughtered and it is the meat that will determine their end value. Some may argue that since both ways achieve the same end – why does it matter what method was used to get them there? It is a valid question, to be sure, and one I don't think I can address in this post. I know I am leaving so much left undiscussed...
I know that as I write about this I am over-simplifying in great ways. The "pigness of the pig" doesn't easily translate into the "humanness of the human", especially if the farm is substituted for the church. However, I think its worth some thought – I know it will be in mind for quite awhile.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Person of Peace
Speak the Music event last week – an event dedicated to supporting the art of beatboxing. I absolutely LOVED it – I spent most of the night in awe of the all of the different sounds.
I caught my mind scheming about different ways to change myself to “fit in” here – to be more like them – with the music and passion I so admire.
Oh it all sounds so dumb in a post!!
Moving on… I don’t like to think of myself as one who wants to “fit in” at all. Normally I’d reject the idea altogether with a laugh. But then Speak the Music happened – and now I have undeniable proof – of my longing to be accepted. To belong.
For a lot of my life I’ve felt like I didn’t quite fit. I wasn’t the daughter my mother dreamed of having. I wasn’t skinny enough, fast enough, bold enough. I spent many years in silence being shy. I don’t remember speaking much at all in middle school. I went through so many stages – with every new crowd I’d try a new thing. Like that time I tried to be a “skater” for a month. I borrowed a black pair of Jinkos from a friend and pretended I could ride a skateboard. Then I tried the pot-smoking crowd. They were so friendly and accepting. But I really didn’t care to smoke, though I tried. Then there was the church youth group – but the only reason I fit there for awhile was because my mother convinced the older girls to have pity for me and take me in. (When they accidentally became my real friends, they told me the truth.) Then there was the gangster stage when I learned some slang, braided my hair, and pretended I was “street smart.” The list goes on and on… maybe I should call it “The People I tried to be”.
In the last few years, my disdain for myself has become unavoidable and readily apparent. I was never enough… for me. Of course I could blame it on my parents, but as the time continues to pass and the distance between us grows, it becomes more of a stretch. I can’t keep blaming others for the things I chose to believe.
I spent so many years as a wanderer – lost – searching. I traveled around the world – to China, Europe, Africa, and South America – all in search of myself.
I remember why I hated living in Los Angeles so much. It wasn’t me and I wasn’t enough. The flawless beauty and fashion of the women around me only helped me remember myself as plain and ordinary. I remember a year and a half into it, when I finally found the words to say “I don’t like who I’ve become.”
What then? Where do you go next? I had to endure. I survived. My determination outweighed my faintness of heart. Because although I may be lost – I am not a quitter. (Though I quit like 15 jobs in high school – but that was then.)
Then, finally, we moved here. Here. I determined last night that regardless of whether or not I ever married Kevin, we (God and I) would have eventually came here. I don’t know how long it would have taken – but we would be here. This is my place of peace. This is the time for my heart to heal and accept who I am and who I am not… and live. There is something to be said about a person of peace. I want to be that person.
I caught my mind scheming about different ways to change myself to “fit in” here – to be more like them – with the music and passion I so admire.
Oh it all sounds so dumb in a post!!
Moving on… I don’t like to think of myself as one who wants to “fit in” at all. Normally I’d reject the idea altogether with a laugh. But then Speak the Music happened – and now I have undeniable proof – of my longing to be accepted. To belong.
For a lot of my life I’ve felt like I didn’t quite fit. I wasn’t the daughter my mother dreamed of having. I wasn’t skinny enough, fast enough, bold enough. I spent many years in silence being shy. I don’t remember speaking much at all in middle school. I went through so many stages – with every new crowd I’d try a new thing. Like that time I tried to be a “skater” for a month. I borrowed a black pair of Jinkos from a friend and pretended I could ride a skateboard. Then I tried the pot-smoking crowd. They were so friendly and accepting. But I really didn’t care to smoke, though I tried. Then there was the church youth group – but the only reason I fit there for awhile was because my mother convinced the older girls to have pity for me and take me in. (When they accidentally became my real friends, they told me the truth.) Then there was the gangster stage when I learned some slang, braided my hair, and pretended I was “street smart.” The list goes on and on… maybe I should call it “The People I tried to be”.
In the last few years, my disdain for myself has become unavoidable and readily apparent. I was never enough… for me. Of course I could blame it on my parents, but as the time continues to pass and the distance between us grows, it becomes more of a stretch. I can’t keep blaming others for the things I chose to believe.
I spent so many years as a wanderer – lost – searching. I traveled around the world – to China, Europe, Africa, and South America – all in search of myself.
I remember why I hated living in Los Angeles so much. It wasn’t me and I wasn’t enough. The flawless beauty and fashion of the women around me only helped me remember myself as plain and ordinary. I remember a year and a half into it, when I finally found the words to say “I don’t like who I’ve become.”
What then? Where do you go next? I had to endure. I survived. My determination outweighed my faintness of heart. Because although I may be lost – I am not a quitter. (Though I quit like 15 jobs in high school – but that was then.)
Then, finally, we moved here. Here. I determined last night that regardless of whether or not I ever married Kevin, we (God and I) would have eventually came here. I don’t know how long it would have taken – but we would be here. This is my place of peace. This is the time for my heart to heal and accept who I am and who I am not… and live. There is something to be said about a person of peace. I want to be that person.
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