What I Learned From my 21 Day Fast

The 21^st day has come and gone.  The past 7 days have been filled with one bout of diarrhea, several salads, fresh juices, a couple slices of cake, 1 grilled hamburger, 2 homemade pizzas,  and and lots of contemplation on going back.  Back to serenity.  Back to peace. Back to an inner warm solitude.  I miss my fast.  I did twenty days.  While I know it’s an accomplishment, I was ten days shy of a month and somehow that feels like so much more.  I’m still exploring what the more is, because what I discovered in twenty days is enough of a starting point with this whole Food Relationship thing.

Day twenty arrived with it’s usual share of nutmilk spiced with cinnamon and cardamom, a splash of peanut butter and a dollop of honey to add a spark of smile to my staple peanut punch.  I was traveling back from DC to New York where I had just spent the weekend with friends taking in the Caribbean Carnival.  DC is another favorite foodie city that I like to explore.  The interesting thing about this trip…this fast…is I made an active decision not to fast from life.  In previous fasts, I usually decide to severely limit my activities.  Not because I’m trying to preserve my energy and get the most out of the cleansing process, but because I can’t friggin deal.  Who can be around food and not eat it???!!!  Who can walk outside and smell the fine fragrance of cooked food and not even want to take a bite.  Who can walk passed the pretty cake stands at the corner bakery and not be tempted to buy one for now or later?  Who can attend social events and pass up on the elaborate or simple spread of edible love?  Who?  Me that’s who.

I did it you guys! I friggin did it.  I went to parties, I went to BBQ’s, I went to festivals hell I even cooked!!!!  And then something amazing happened.  Because I refused to limit my life out of fear, because I made a conscious decision to participate with a full presence…I discovered that my need to feed was more than the physical satiation that biting, chewing and digesting food brings.  It was the sight of it, the smell of it, voyeuristically watching others indulge in what would later determine their mood.  Peeking in as diners made decisions and then oohed and aawed as if it were there first time making love.

For the first time in a long time, I knew how to distinguish hunger from hunger.  One fed my body the other fed my soul.  One knew when to stop the other knew where to begin. One kissed me and made me smile, the other I kissed until my smile was replaced with a deeper joy.  Both served me and I was learning how to allow them.

I was learning that it wasn’t necessary to command them with fork and knife and guide them into my heart…I mean belly.

I could let them unfold and be majestic as is it’s nature.  I could let them be beautiful without needing to be their mirror.  I could let food be and I could still be okay.

I didn’t end my fast because I had some deep starving hunger to feed.  Quite the contrary. I wasn’t physically hungry at all, instead I was bored.  That’s right, my tastebuds were threatening to revolt if I took one more sip of a smoothie, nut milk, juice or water.  So I listened.  I’m still interested in being in that space again. I miss it.  Lucky for me, those lessons transfer and it’s not limited to fasting.  I get to choose to feed hungers in fitting ways over and over again.  Of course the temptation pops ups to take a bite, because after all, I like to experience the taste.  But at least it’s no longer theoretical.  I now know, I mean really know that I can feed with feeding.

*Blogged July 5, 2011

Shelley, The Food Relationship Coach™

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