It takes planning, and a willingness to run the risk of inconvenience if the traffic patterns are off, or my back starts acting up.
But a trip to the Farmer’s Market for all that food, glorious food? For the sensual pleasure of an abundance of organically raised produce, not to mention grass-fed beef and wild-caught fish?
Then there is the pleasure of people-watching, as an extraordinarily diverse group of individuals pick through peaches, pluck up a passion fruit, or sort through the spinach.
And the savings? My food bill is routinely reduced by 30% or more, simply for the investment of the few hours it takes to get there, to shop, and to get home.
This morning I took that time. This morning I did more than that. This morning I stopped to pause at the light – no radio blaring, no phone nearby, no laptop at the ready. Disconnected in order to be connected. In order to observe and to feel.
All too often, I can’t see the forest for the trees. I know it, and periodically I must self-correct. But it isn’t simple.
All too often, despite a belief in moderated optimism, I lose myself in my own obstacles and cannot make my way around them. I know it, but I struggle trying to self-correct.
This doesn’t happen when it concerns my children, of course. For them – always – I seem to do my best and give my best.
But for myself?
A different story. And I wonder if this is a woman’s story, a woman’s issue, a failure of cultural conditioning, or something more personal.
Yet I believe in women. I believe in our strength. I believe in our ability to imagine a future and then create it.
I also know that we typically don’t take the time to pause, and it’s amazing what we may notice when we do – forced onto slow-moving streets, halted at red lights, heeding the stop signs.
For me, this becomes an “acceptable” moment not to multitask. A few minutes to consider my options – new options.
Lately I feel increasingly fragile. Still, I am aware that if I don’t care for myself, I cannot expect that anyone else will.
Yet I discover these unanticipated moments of peaceful journey: I am paused beside an old brick building in a warehouse district, enamored of the textured surface; I am paused in a neighborhood of worn clapboard cottages, relieved that they remain unspoiled; I am paused by a scarred and damaged tree, which nonetheless thrives with its early autumn touch of orange.
This morning after putting away my tomatoes and thyme, my berries and bananas, my whole grain bread and best-on-the-planet bran muffins, I recognize the routine that is pulling me under. I realize how dim my surroundings have become.
The blinds are closed and while dappled light plays through the slats, it isn’t enough. I can switch on lamps, but it isn’t enough. I need more clarity. I need more brightness. I need more something.
So I walk through the house and open the blinds. I pull aside curtains. I make myself a spot in the sunshine, and give permission to bask in the light – appreciating my two good eyes, my functioning mind, and the necessity to pause – for nourishment.
- Do you find it easier to care for others than for yourself?
- How do you break old (bad) habits and replace them with something new?
- Do you believe that the act of shopping for healthy food – touching and smelling – adds to the pleasure of preparing and eating it?
- How do you take time to disconnect, and what do you do to pause at the light?
This was my day as well. I did not peruse an outdoor market but I did get out in the sunshine. And upon return, opened the curtains, relaxed, let myself enjoy for just a moment.
The wares you purchased sound yummy. I will have to make a run to the farmers market and fruit and vegetable stands this weekend before they close for the season.
I do think that women in general put others needs before our own. I know I do.
We do have to keep ourselves healthy though, or we are no good to them or our own agendas.
Sometimes that’s exactly how I motivate myself to take care of “me” – by remembering that I’m no good to anyone if I’m not doing okay. (Perhaps part of the deep hole of empty nest – when there are no longer children who need us?)
This sort of food gathering and food relating echoes with alchemical magic. Soups and stews and the solitude of hearth and patience foreshadow transformation. While wild-caught fish are fast-grilling treats, the work you are embarking upon suggests melding of flavors and meditative time as connective tissue of lesser cuts of meat break down so as to become both delicious and more easily assimilated. While coming to like our own cooking is of the essence, I can just tell you’re in the prep-stage of something sublime.
Ah Bruce. From your lips… as they say. And there really is something grounding and spiritual in touching and preparing real food. “Essence” is an ideal word for it.
After my mastectomy and subsequent chemotherapy, taking time for me became much more important. I’m retired, so it’s easier to do, but it’s important for everyone. The house doesn’t need to be spotless, I don’t need to be perfect. I need to be at peace with myself and to find pleasure in everything around me.
Nothing like perspective, Carol. Sometimes we come to it late; sometimes, just in time.
When life seems to move at warp speed, it’s hard to slow down and enjoy the little things. I think women are more prone to putting everyone else before themselves…especially mothers. It’s in our DNA. Trips to the farmer’s market can be glorious reminders of why it’s important to try and maintain a balance in our busy lives. And when we eat well, our bodies function better…allowing us to enjoy the best life has to give!
We certainly do function better when we eat better, Lisa. In fact, I think when we spend more time with food – good food – it brings out a lot of good things in us. And the smell of fresh thyme?
Heaven, for 99 cents…
I am not sure I know. I use the TV to disconnect my mind but I am not pausing.
I went to back to school night for my teen and his English teacher seems fascinating. She made the read How To Be Idle by Tom Hodgkinson. I love that she is trying to teach my teen the value in being idle, in simply reflecting and being present. And isn’t that a phrase that we see all over the blogosphere – especially the mom bloggers? I know no one when I was in my youth valued the concept of being present. Maybe that is why so many folks my age don’t know how to do it.
I’m surprised that shopping at the farmer’s market was 30% cheaper. Generally, I think farmer’s markets are more expensive because they are attended by smaller farmers who don’t produce enough to realize economies of scale.
I’m glad to hear that you took time for yourself. I, too, love sunlight. Even if I know that I should keep my blinds closed to reduce heat in the summer, I love to keep them open and be enveloped in sunlight. That’s why offices without windows are so depressing for me.
It is routinely 30% less, and sometimes more. But this isn’t a small outside market. It is a large no-frills affair, and I have also learned to price individual items at all my local markets and to take quantities into account as well.
I think we have a misconception that all fresh / organic foods are more expensive. And so you know, I’ve taken the cost of gas into account as well.
Change. I know the only thing certain in this life is that everything changes. Sometimes, though, it’s harder to adjust than others. I’m not sure where the reluctance originates. I’m hoping it’s not age! 😉
Interesting comment, Andrea – about change and aging.
Children love routine (whether they realize it or not). It makes them feel safe, and of course, they also love exploring beyond that routine (in part they haven’t learned all the consequences of exploring the unknown – the challenging as well as the agreeable). I think as we age, and in some respects, we experience the beginning of certain limitations and also, the full impacts of possible consequences, we tend to stay “safe” in our routines if we can. And that means we take on less change.
I don’t think it’s true of everyone and it’s certainly not true in every circumstance, but perhaps some increased resistance to change is logical as we grow older. And the older adult eventually becomes the child?
I’ve been pausing more lately. I have two friends, one who is facing a grim prognosis from cancer and another who is dealing with a sick terminally ill child. Their courage and grace remind me to be grateful for this moment and this day. Perspective indeed.