On Nourishment: Feeding Your Body Means Feeding Your Heart

Manski and I are celebrating our more-official-but-slightly-less-symbolic wedding anniversary today; on this day (around this time) last year, we had our civil ceremony at city hall, before tying the know in front of our friends and family a few days later at our actual wedding. But seriously folks, one year puts us ahead of 99% of Hollywood marriages. Kinda sad, eh?

I don't normally use this place as a platform for showcasing photos of myself, but we really did have some amazing photographers and I paid good money for these, so I may as well pass on the spoils and the good publicity!

Manski is anything but typical - he's 6'6" and intensely fit and strong, he has an amazing work ethic and sense of neatness, he is supremely comfortable with his masculinity (and defines it according to his own terms) and he loves flowery and/or fruity smelling bath products. We are so intensely different in how we express ourselves, but here is what I really want to say:

I have helped Manski open his mind to new foods, new sociological/political ideas and perhaps some fashion trends, but what I have gained from him is immensely more valuable; Manski has taught me to quiet down, and open my eyes and ears.

I think that for any of us who can accept that we are (for better or for worse) overthinkers, it's scary to get out of our minds and be guided by our senses. But I realize now how critical this has been in helping me to appreciate and respect food (and my boundaries with it), the environment and even other people. But let's back up for a moment, shall we, and check out what this has to do food.

Old married couple.

In my About Me page, I talk a little bit about a post-nutrition perspective on food. Now, this is a concept that I'm just beginning to explore/develop in my (modest, humble, rookie) research, but I'm proposing while nutrition has offered us some incredible insights on a particular set of function, values and model for organizing food knowledge, it has also displaced - for many people - the merits of other forms of food knowledge, like culture, traditional medicines, agrarian histories, etc.

Most importantly (I'm going to go ahead and say it *deep breath*) I'm interested in what happens when we explore a way of thinking about food that is based on the other N-word: nourishment.

What if we can look at an eating experience as a whole - rather than as simply the sum of its nutrients/micro and macro attributes - as endowed with non-nutrition health value. What I'm essentially getting at is asking ourselves whether it is better to eat a plate of egg whites and steamed broccoli all alone versus eating a piece of chocolate cake in good company. This approach to thinking about food balances food "value" with the social, cultural, emotional and aesthetic "value" of a particular eating experience. I'm not suggesting a dualist view - that it has to be either bland "healthy" food or treats eaten at a celebration, but rather, taking into account the broader view of what makes a meal nourishing.

Nourishing yourself means looking at yourself as a whole, looking at your life and its constituent moments as a whole and asking yourself how this experience can nourish your life. When we talk about the either/or of "healthy" eating and the conflict between delicious and healthy eating (which I think a lot of people are starting to realize can be conflated into a single notion) and combine this idea with nourishment, we not only start to look at real food in terms of its taste, appearance, texture and origin, but we seek to enhance and celebrate those qualities by making delicious food. But let's not stop there - nourishment means eating in silence, or in great company; eating by candlelight, or sunlight; eating on a special plate, or maybe with your hands; plating or not plating your food in particular ways, etc.

Great food and great eating experiences nourish your body, your mind, your soul, your intellect and your heart. This is something that, protein, carbs and fat cannot achieve by their lonesome.

We are so much more than the sum of our meals, so why not make the sum of our meals something greater than just the basic carbon building blocks of each food we've consumed? Manski has taught me, in these five years (and especially in the last one) that eating well means understanding that something otherwise characterized as "unhealthy" can be enjoyed with a sense of happiness and gratitude if the context is right. When we first met, I hardly knew how to stray from the few safe foods I knew, while he had the amazing ability (or so it seemed to me) to eat well and yet find space for delicious treats in his life. I actually wrote a whole article on our first date (in food terms) here. I realized that it wasn't the chase for the elusive perfect body or even highly moderated eating that I wanted in my life, but a sense of worth, value, importance and love that was divorced from all of those very things.

It took as many years, but I have learned that it's really a sense of nourishment that I've been after, all along. I want to feel nourished at school, in my family life, through my friendships, at the table and in through my connection to my community. I realize now that when I ate "healthiest" (i.e in a more restricted, moderated and regulated manner), I was least nourished. Sure, there are still mornings when I rush through a smoothie or gobble down my green tea, but on balance, I find time and space within me and around me to enjoy my meals. Sometimes, that just means putting my books aside while I'm sitting at a study cubicle and focusing on the lunch that I took time to pack. That, my friends, is nourishment.

You know, while we're on this topic, let me add one more thing. I used to take photos of my food and post them on this blog. I do indulge in food photography, but much less than I used to. A big part of committing to staying in the present has arisen from looking at my food, enjoying the experience of it and putting the camera down. I just want to commit myself 100% to whatever I'm doing. It used to bother Manski when I took photos of so much of what I bought/made/ate and now I understand that part of enjoying the sanctity of a meal requires me to see it through my own eyes and not the constructed ocular of the camera. Canon makes beautiful photos, and I do occasionally play dinner table papparazzi, but it's becoming more and more rare.

Simple, sauteed vegetables with sea salt and avocado oil and quinoa cooked in white wine with guyere.

The last thing I want to say on this topic (for now) is that the "comfort" in comfort foods comes from more than just what you eat. Mashed potatoes and homemade macaroni and cheese are hard to enjoy when, somewhere in your heart and mind, you are scared to enjoy them. The more "no holds barred" I get with my eating, the better I eat. I don't eat "perfectly" and (for me) that's the whole point! I think that all of this - discussions on nourishment vs. nutrition, intuitive eating and recovering from disordered eating - all stems from a single commitment: self-trust. When you love and trust yourself enough to let go, you don't have to be scared that your body will ask for the wrong things. You don't need control when you have trust. You don't need food scales, diet plans, calorie parameters or anything like that. Sometimes too much information can get in the way of knowing and learning yourself. In the economy of self-worth, it's up to each one of us decide where the real currency lies. In my case, I has invested all of my worth in food and the returns on that investment were... none.

It has often been said all philosophy since The Republic is a footnote to Plato, and while I think that can be debated until the grass-fed cows come home, one thing Socrates said about the foundation of all examination, questioning and learning is that it begins with a single, formidable task:

"Know thyself".