I am a fan of the literary magazine, The Sun, which is ad-free and runs a variety of features from interviews to “Readers Write.” Once in a while, I think I should submit something for publication, but the thought passes.
Recently, when I looked online for topics for their readers to submit for publication, I saw that July 1st was for “nourishment.” I thought about this. What would I write?
The next day, as I picked snow peas in the garden for dinner that night, it occurred to me how, at first blush, we hear a word, and our brain comes up with an initial idea, and then a multitude of meanings, to consider the word. The word “nourishment” is no different. Every living creature requires nourishment in body, mind, and soul.
And so, I equated the golden pods of snow peas as bodily nourishment. I was going to use them in a stir fry with chicken marinated in oil, lemon juice, and lemon pepper seasoning, with yellow bell pepper, a zucchini, and some carrot. Why? All because I had some leftover lemon sauce from a previous dinner. Waste not want not. And maybe this is one way we should be thinking of nourishment.
Yes, we need food, nourishing food. Caloric sustenance. But, this is not the only aspect of our being, which require intake. Our brains require novelty. And here I am, halfway through the year and 46 books completed, either audio or out-of-hand. Words, stories, nourish our minds. They cause our psyche to grow like the mycelium of a fungus, shooting out tendrils into the surrounding matter to bring it to unity. They do not waste material.
Is this why I’m relatively obsessed with fungus? Perhaps. Or maybe it’s the symbolism that we can dig at the base of a fungal structure and never truly find its depth or end.
Like people, fungi are multi-layered, fingers or roots stretching out infinitesimally. Like people, much more complicated than we first thought.
And then there is the nourishment of our core, our soul, our spirit. I admire those who can entrust their souls and the nourishment thereof to a God. I cannot.
I have trust issues, and the God I knew is vengeful. Who needs that?
And so, I feed my soul, I nourish it, through building a connection of trust with it. My core, my soul, my spirit, has been the only consistent “other” in my life. I can rely upon it. And so, I give it what it needs.
In a silent house, power knocked out by a summer storm, I sat to write about nourishment of body, mind, and soul. The silence was near deafening, my ears ringing with tinnitus as I scrawled words on a page. But my soul, my mind, even my body, felt nourished.
Was it because of a forced slow-down? Was it because of a lack of distraction? I’m sure they helped. But all of me feels “full,” feels complete, feels satisfied.
We forget that all of us requires sustenance, we need to treat ourselves right.
What do you do to nourish your body, your mind, your soul?