To the Nourishment of our Bodies

I haven’t eaten in over nine days. Eat – A verb meaning to “put (food) into the mouth and chew and swallow it” (New Oxford American Dictionary). I am on a fast, a voluntary abstention from all food. Instead, I drink a concoction of lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne and water that I diligently assemble six to eight times a day.

Eat – A verb that also means “consume, devour, ingest, partake of; gobble up/down, bolt down, wolf down; swallow, chew, munch, chomp; informal guzzle, nosh, put away, chow down on, tuck into, demolish, dispose of, polish off, pig out on, scarf down”…. as well as to “corrode, wear away/down/through, burn through, consume, dissolve, disintegrate, crumble, decay; damage, destroy, erode” – as in “acidic water can eat away at pipes (Oxford American Writer's Thesaurus).

According to the creator of the fast, while I am not eating, I am receiving nourishment. Nourishment – a noun meaning “the substances necessary for growth, health, and good condition” from the Latin word nutrire meaning ‘feed, cherish’ (Again, New Oxford). And, who am I to argue? In many ways, I’ve never felt better. I feel lighter, more energetic, and, yes, healthier each day as I cleanse all the toxins and crap (literally) out of my body.

But, I miss food. I’m not hungry; I just miss food. Food is such a huge part of our American society. We “do” breakfast and lunch meetings, take our coffee/snack breaks from our computers, commune with our loved ones as we cook and devour our evening meal. True to the meaning, we gobble up more than our share, more than is necessary, and we wear away at the earth and decay our bodies with overconsumption, processed chemicals and waste.

It’s summer, and my heirloom tomatoes are ripening and filling up the bowl on my counter with colors of orange, yellow, purple, and red. The Saturday morning’s farmers market is filled with the intoxicating sights and smells of freshly picked berries, figs, peaches, okra and basil. These other sensory aspects of these prohibited foods are my solace from shear boredom.

During this fast, I read Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible, a heart-wrenching novel about the deconstruction and reconstruction of a missionary’s family in a war torned and poverty strickened Congo over a course of three decades. I am acutely aware of the luxuries of my life – that I have the indulgence of choosing to refrain from eating, while others refrain without choice. I also understand how little it takes to nourish the body, and how difficult that nourishment is to find for others.

Today, I am beginning my journey back to the world of the eating. I pray that I take this new awareness with me and seek to nourish my body and soul with a new appreciation for the meaning of food. I begin by drinking the freshly made juice of an apple. The most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.