Yesterday afternoon I was starving. (And of course I don’t mean I was really starving. I was just hungry in the urgent, demanding way that a child is hungry. I WANTED FOOD NOW.) And all afternoon, the only thing I could think about was getting home and eating something – supper. Big supper. As instantly as this food-from-scratch-foodie could make it. I was obsessed. I knew I would have a salad (in this recent heat I don’t dare cook), but I contemplated a bunch of different kinds: lettuces, vegetables, garnishes, vinegars, spices…
My problem was, I’m trying to transition to a low-carb diet. My other problem? Low-carb combined with grain free, legume free, dairy free, low nut, and ovo-vegetarian is hard. I still haven’t made it over the carb crashes. But it’s been an interesting practice. I’m discovering how distracting my carb addiction is.
I’m also discovering what hunger feels like when you just sit with it. When you say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to eat anything right at this moment. You can scream all you want, but I’m not going to feed you.” I wonder to myself if hunger can be a good thing. If I’m gentle with it, will it subside? What if sitting with hunger is a rich lesson?
It also makes me think of other kinds of hunger – of hunger for God, or connection, or creation. Being hungry for my writing practice, or my yoga mat. The dancing with the “what is” shines lights on wanting, needing… and feeding.
Are you hungry? What for? How badly?