It wasn't because I was sad. And it wasn't because I was happy.
It was because I heard a farmer describe how she grew her tomatoes.
Lately, I have been practicing more conscious eating. When I am preparing and cooking my food, I take a couple moments to reflect about where my stuff came from. It has been such an interesting experience.
If I start to pour a bowl of cereal, I find myself squinting and forehead wrinkling trying to determine what are in those flakes. How did they get there? How did they get here?
And that's even before I turn the the ingredient label. That is where the real confusion kicks in.
It's not just about health- although I care very deeply for the body I have been blessed with that carries me around to experience the cultures of the world; the body that houses my passionate soul; the body that heals me if I let it.
It's not just about me- although I love to feel strong and empowered and as bright as the sun and the oranges it helps grow.
It's not just about the food- although I LOVE food.
It's also about energy. What I eat becomes me and I like to know what I am eating.
We have made it kinda hard when back in the day it didn't used to be.
Don't get me wrong, we have created some amazing things in this world.
And I am appreciative for that.
More appreciative I am for the farmers who grow my tomatoes.
Sunday I listened to a local NY farmer talk about how she thinks of a beautiful couple that shows up at her market every Saturday to purchase her produce. She thinks about them when she waters her plants. She thinks about them when she measures the nutrients in her soil and harvests her babies with love and care. She thinks about them when she pays her employees proper wages.
She uses loving hands, where many places use cold machinery.
She cultivates with care, where many places use pesticide.
She sells with pride, where many places sell with hidden ingredients amongst a scientific label.
hmmmm.
I smile at my salad.
Did I tell you I loved you today?
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