Looking with open eyes

When I used to make a big deal about my weight, sometimes I blamed God for having made it a curse.  You have to eat in order to survive, yet you have to "eat sensibly" and not too much and not too little in order to maintain a safe weight.  In some ways humans must live between narrow parameters -- the mix of oxygen must be just right, we can't live outside a certain band of ambient temperatures, our own body temperature must stay right around 98.6 all our lives.  Just a degree or two off, and we know we are sick. The sun burns us easily, the cold freezes us easily.  Yet, within these narrow parameters we are given so much to enjoy.  Tulips, a sunrise, a good book, the band of sand between the ocean and the palm trees, a kiss.

When she was a child, my mom knew a blind girl her age.  She was blind from birth.  One morning as her mother was breaking eggs into a skillet, the girl suddenly regained her sight. The first thing she was was the bright yellow egg yolks and it took her breath away.  Yellow became her favorite color.  So food feeds us more than filling our stomach.  It treats our eyes, our tongues, our noses; it tests our ingenuity, it becomes a political statement, it helps define our ethnicity, it becomes a comfort during stress, it reminds us of good times with family and friends.  Food is so much more than a calorie or a mass in a measuring cup.

When my father was dying of Alzheimers and ulcerative colitis, the only thing he wanted to eat was chicken broth.  And the nursing home refused him this "special diet."  So day after day, either my mother or I would cook Campbells Chicken Noodle Soup, because what he liked was the broth from that soup.  Then we would drain off the liquid and take it to him and feed it to him.  That became a time of great closeness between me and my dad.  We had never been close before.

When my grandmother was a child, she once swallowed a button with large button holes.  It stuck in her throat and all the nourishment she could get was what would drip through the eyes of that button.  She began to waste away.  Everyone began to call her "Tincy," a name that followed her the rest of her life.  One day as her mother made gingerbread, my grandmother begged for a piece.  It was a tough decision.  Would the child choke to death on the gingerbread?  On the other hand, could she give it to her other children and deny it to my grandmother?  So, her mother gave her a piece and when she swallowed, it pushed the button on down.

There are so many different "food tales" I could go on all day.  One of my favorite things to do is bake cookies and take them to people I know and people I would like to get to know, like a next door neighbor who is very unfriendly and is a single mom with one child.  I hope it brightens her day and renews her faith in humanity when I take her cookies.  She won't answer the door, I just have to put them  in a bag and hang them there next to the mail box where they won't be missed.  I don't want a "thank you," I just want to spread a little human warmth and cheer.

Carolyn

Hi Dave,

I hope I've given you a smile with the key lime pie recipe.  Let us know how it tastes when you do take it out of the refrigerator.

Did you use actual key limes or regular limes?  Where can you get key limes?  I've gone to fruit stands and asked if they sell key limes and the workers had no idea what I was talking about.  Maybe the store near my house will have them.  I'll go see next Saturday and if they do I'll make a key lime pie for my friend when he comes to dinner next Sunday.

It will be OK.  I wrote a blog entry in Joyful Music yesterday or the day before about how you have to take it one day at a time.  I spoke about how you must boil your life down into seven hour stretches when you start out in recovery.  I venture you must do this always.

Enjoy the key lime pie.

Peace,

Christina

Hm,

  I don't seem to be as miserable as most people with psychotic disorders, most of my events are humorous, but I must say I'm sorry this has happened to you.  I have some motor control issues, or I have lately where I'll lose control of my body in some weird reaction under the light or something. With me, it's always the damned light.  Looking back makes me not care about looking forward, so I don't do it too often.  I'll mope and feel sorry for myself, or I'll get lost in things I cannot change or charge.

 I hope you find the wisdom to keep you content.