Feeding The Fire Burning In My Heart

     The world is bleeding. It breaks my heart. everywhere I turn if feel suffering. Everyone I speak to has a tragic story-needs a prayer. Do you have any idea how many people I hug everyday? I have spent the past 34 years teaching myself how to actively listen to people. This has been a challenge for me because it means I have to stop talking long enough to process what someone else is saying. And it means looking at the person speaking in the face and not being distracted by what color her shoes are or what song is playing in the background or is that cookies I smell? Listening for me has always been a challenge because I always have so much to say. But I have been actively working on this since I became an adult and I have to say, I've gotten pretty good at it. Maybe it's because I genuinely care about the speaker, or as my girlfriend Amina put it, I thrive on hearing people's stories, but whatever the reason, people tend to tell me everything. I know a lot of people's secrets. I know everyone's troubles, fears, birthdays, kids' names, favorite foods, religious beliefs, wifes' worries, husbands' shortcomings, parent's issues.....if you know me, I've probably shocked you by recalling some minute detail of your life that you told me in passing two years ago. And the thing is, Amina is right. I DO thrive on it. I love feeling connected to people. Bonded. 

     But lately, it seems like the world is bleeding. We're suffering. We're angry, depressed, abused, neglected, tormented, afraid, depressed, disatisfied, confused, frustrated, worried, troubled and downright sad. And all I do is worry. Funny thing is, I'm not worried for myself or Mr. Jones. We're doing just fine...cancer and all. People have said to me, "I'm so sorry to bother you with my problems. You are going through so much, and yet, when I read your blog, I can't believe how positive you are." That's when I began to understand the purpose of the blog. I have been called to write. I have been called to ease the suffering. I need to spread the love. I need to send it out through cyberspace. A message to the world that we can all get through it. With faith anything is possible. Yes, we are all suffering, but together we can hold each other up. We can carry each other through it. 

     Make no mistake. I have BAD days. The other morning I spent my drive to work fighting back tears and asking for strength to get through the day and rest of the longest dreariest week ever. That is until "Fat Bottom Girls" came on the radio and I had to rush through that last Hail Mary so I could "make the rockin' world go 'round." And while Freddy Mercury and Brian May did make me feel better for 3 minutes and 22 sec, the morning still dragged on. When I got to work I told my friend Heather how much the day was sucking and she threw her arms around me and gave me her strength. And somehow I found the drive to push forward through my first period class ,and then my second, and then my third, and before I knew it I was home on my couch with my little monkey and my angel-baby and everything was right with the world. And that's what I mean. Heather's got her own troubles and fears, but that day she gave me her strength. Another day she might need me to give her mine.

       This is what we need to do. Focus on reaching out to support each other. We can get through it all together. You know I believe in the power of love. And all I can do is open my heart and focus on sending it out. I'm sending you my strength. I'm sending you my love. In yoga practice we say Namaste at the beginning and end of practice. While it literally can be interpreted as, "I bow to you," it means so much more than that. The most beautiful way that I have ever heard it interpreted is as to mean, "When I am in this place, and you are in this place, we are one." Whoever you are- wherever you are- at this moment our lives are touching. We are one. I wish you strength. I wish you happiness. I wish you love. Reach out to someone. By helping others we help ourselves. I feel this burning in my soul to reach out and spread love. To give hope. And if you can feel it, I ask only one thing of you: Share my love, our love. Click "like" above. Click  "Share" below. Send this link in an email. Someone else needs to know you are thinking of them. Someone out there needs your strength. Lets support each other. Put your own troubles aside for a second and do something for someone less fortunate than you. As always, I wish you joy. I hope you find strength and faith to follow the path that has been laid before you. I know you can do it.We can do it. If I can, you can....Namaste! 



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XOXO



Mirror, Mirror On The Wall, I Am My Mother After All...(I Hope!)

    The most challenging thing I've ever done was to become a mother. I don't remember the exact moment that it happened, but I'll never forget the day I found out. It was the last thing I expected to see, that little pink cross in the window. I took another test the next day because I was sure that the first one was wrong. Even though my biology background told me that there couldn't be a false negative, I was in such shock. I remember the terror. I just stood there in front of Mr. Jones. We stood there with tears in our eyes in disbelief. As the reality sunk in, I told him- and myself- that this was a good thing. We were married. We had health insurance. We both had jobs. There was no reason why we should worry. I thought of my sister. She had just given birth to her second son. She was (is) a great mom. She had a system for everything- I could just do whatever she did. And her boys (MY boys) were healthy and happy and developing into beautiful children. There is no reason why I couldn't do it. After all, I had her to ask for help.

     Slowly, over the next nine months I got used to idea of being Mommy instead of the favorite aunt. I went to birthing classes, practiced pre-natal yoga, read books on nursing...I was going to do it all the right way. My amazing family and friends bought me everything I needed. And then one day, in the bathroom of Macy's, my water broke.  And it really began. 12 hours later I was holding the most perfect, beautiful little angel God had ever created. I remember initially feeling like I was trapped in a Dali painting. How could this be real? Who is this little person? Shouldn't I feel like I know her? I was responsible for this tiny soul. Her life depended on me not screwing up. She could die if I did something wrong. Forget about the 12 hours of natural childbirth. That was the easy part. For the rest of my life I had to take care of this child and somehow not f--- her up. So I bought some books. Books that told me that everything I was feeling was normal. Books that told me how to be successful at nursing (something American culture makes very difficult). Books that told me when to worry, and when to call a doctor. And then there was the Internet. There is no shortage of information to teach you how to have a healthy baby. And day by day, week by week my Angel-baby and I became so emotionally connected that sometimes I wasn't sure where she began and I ended. Her every joy was my joy. Her every pain was my pain. I was no longer just Melissa any more. I was Angel-babie's mom. For the rest of my life I would be introducing myself with her name first..."It's so nice to meet you, I'm Angel's mom." I had joined the club. The mom club. Where everything in your life shifts. The focal point of the world's orbit shifted from Mr. Jones and me, to my Angel-baby. And I joined billions of other women who had all had the same experience and were travelling in orbits around their own angel-babies.
     At some point I remember marvelling at the love I felt for this perfect child. I remember thinking, Is this how my mother feels about me? All these years, I've always know she loves me, but I never realized how much because up until this point I was incapable of understanding. And suddenly it made sense. I understood how she could give up her career to take care of my sisters' and my children so that we could continue to eat. I understood how she could manage to work a full day and still make cupcakes at 11 pm becase I needed them for school. I understood how she could sacrifice buying things she wanted so that we could go to dancing school or acting classes. I understood why she was with me on every school trip, every class party, every single performance of every concert or show that my sister and I performed in. I understood why it devastated her that when I studied abroad I could only call once a week. She has given me everything. Everything I have, everything I am, I am because of the woman who she is. I felt so humbled. So lucky. So in love with my mother. I decided at that moment that there was nothing that I could ever do to repay her for her sacrifices. The only thing I could do was to never refuse her anything she needed from me. And I never do. Anything she needs, anything I can ever do for her, I do.
     It was with this revelation that I also realized how blessed I was to have her as a model. If I just did everything the way my mom did. If I am half as good as she is, my kids will be okay. I realized that it doesn't matter what the books say, I was going to model myself after the best mother I knew. Just like the generations of mothers before me. As humans this is how we learn. We don't even realize it, and unless we make a conscious effort to be different from our parents, we will have the same successes and the same failures. I think about this as a mother. I learned everything I know from my mother. I sing the same lullaby, tell the same bedtime stories, cook the same dinners. I can't tell you how many times I've said, "Don't you dare!" and I hear her voice echoing in my own. With this in mind, I realize, that like it or not, my little cherubs will someday echo me. If I speak with prejudice, they will speak with prejudice. If I act with violence, they will act with violence. If I abuse drugs or alcohol, I doom them to a life of abuse. And likewise, If I treat people kindly, they will learn kindness. If I pray, they will pray. And if I treat myself with respect-if I choose a healthy lifestyle-if I manage my stress-if I take care of myself as a woman, they will do the same as adults. And if I show gratitude and take care of my family when they need me, then they will someday do the same. As mothers, we are living models for our children. I was fortunate to have such a model whose example I can only pray that live up to. Motherhood is challenging. It comes with great responsibility. But when my 5 year old insists on hugging me until she counts to 100, or my 2 year old begs me for one more kiss goodnight, I know what is meant by the expresion "a labor of love."
      I hope you can find time this weekend to celebrate the love your mother gave you. Even if she wasn't perfect, she did the best she could. She may not have had a great model. If you are a mother, celebrate the life you've made for yourself and your family. In the end, all we can really do is our best to support out children and show them in every way possible that we love them and hope it's enough. That's all my mother did. And still does!

Happy Mother's Day!

Bet Your Bottom Dollar That...

     Mr. Jones' FB post today was, "Round 2 here we goooo."  And here we are. Once again I am writing to you from the treatment center. He's reading a book on parenting, so I don't feel badly about ignoring him for a bit to get all this stuff crammed in my head out into cyberspace.

     I've been thinking about my friends. I feel so blessed to have SO MANY people I call friends. Not acquaintances, but real friends: people with whom I have connected with emotionally at one point or another. Some of you I see everyday.  Some of you, I wish I could see everyday. And there are those of you whom I see maybe once a year, but when we're together it's like no time has passed. I am truly lucky to have so many people to love. And whenever I encounter any one of these friends, I am immediately asked how Mr. J is doing. And then after I give the overview of his symptoms and how he's managing and happily explain that he's doing amazingly well, the next question is, "And how are YOU doing?" And I say, I'm fine as long as he's fine." And that's true, but I'm also unusually tense most of the time, irritable and worst of all impatient. All this is to be expected when one is under stress, and I am doing the very best I can to not let my mood swings become apparent to those I love and really don't want to lash out at. But I am finding it harder than usual to feel the endless compassion with which I usually pride myself. You see, the reason I have emotionally connected with so many people is that I have learned over the years to how to listen without judgement. I am fascinated by people and I love to feel connected. I feel like every time I share these moments with others that I am made richer and my heart swells and I feel a joy that can only come from loving another person. If you know me well, I have probably told you I love you...on many occasions. And the truth is that I really do. I love each and everyone of my friends with an open heart and would do just about anything for each one of you if I knew it would make you happy.
     The problem is that lately I am finding myself to be impatient and judgmental. The events of my life have me finding myself frustrated by people who are caught up in trivial frustrations of everyday life. I am finding it very hard to feel badly for someone who is crying to me over some great problem that amounts to an issue of vanity, or not getting what they want when they want it, or even worse when they created the problem themselves by doing something selfish or dishonest or immoral.
     Many of my friends are coping with real tragedy. I have several friends suffering from infertility and loss of pregnancy. I have one friend who recently had to send her college-age son to rehab due for his crystal-meth addiction. Another friend is in the middle of a messy divorce where her ex husband is abusing their children and trying to ruin her financially. Another is just hoping that his mother lives to see Easter. I know people who have lost their jobs or whose hours have been cut so dramatically, that they may not be able to pay their mortgage. I have friends who are struggling to buy milk and diapers. And did I mention that the man I love more than anything in whole world is undergoing treatment for cancer, had an allergic reaction to one of his meds and is losing his hair? So it's a bit hard for me to feel badly for someone who got a speeding ticket or someone who's pissing away their parents' money or anyone who is feeling sorry for themselves but not making any effort to affect change in their lives.  
      It's not that I don't care. I really do. Friedrich Nietzsche said that suffering is like a gas. It always fills you up. So to someone who has no worries at all a paper cut can be all consuming. I don't want to minimize anyone's suffering, but when I think of all the tragedy in the world, it's hard not to. Somewhere in Haiti, a mother is feeding her toddler a "cake" made of dirt and lard because there is nothing else to eat. Somewhere in Iraq, one of our boys is thinking about his baby girl whose birth he missed while he was dodging improvised bombs on the road wondering if he will ever meet his child. Somewhere in Japan a family has walked away from everything they own and may never see their home again. Somewhere "in the ghetto" a toddler just smoked pot for the first time because his uncle thought it would be funny. Somewhere nearby, a mother has just buried her baby. Down the block from you, a woman was beaten last night and is desperately trying to cover up her bruises. The world is full of real tragedy. I count my blessings everyday. And I wish you would too. I know how lucky I am to live in a free country. I know how fortunate I am to have two beautiful healthy children. The fact that I have luxury to need to LIMIT my food intake almost seems unjust. I am sitting here in chemo with my husband feeling grateful for modern medicine and the kindness of strangers. Not to mention, the luxury of 3 or 4 hours that we have to spend alone together. (That, my friends, is a commodity.)  I actually made chocolate covered strawberries and brought apple cider "champagne" to make the best of our time together. We brought a DVD to watch and I made a nice lunch to share. I wish you could all do that. I wish everyone could just take a step back and find something joyful. Find something to be happy about. Life is too short to worry about a paper cut.
    And for those of you for who are really suffering. For those of you who can find nothing joyful in today. There is always tomorrow. The beauty of the Earth is that it keeps turning. The sun will come out tomorrow. (Bet your bottom dollar that) Tomorrow, there'll be sun! And even if Mr. Jones does look like Daddy Warbucks, we will be playing in that sunshine celebrating spring with our girls by making flower crowns out of forsythia. At the end of of each terrible day, the sun will set and then rise again. Today's suffering will soon be yesterday's, then last week's, and then last month's, and before long, last year's. You will get through it. You will endure.....we all will! I implore you. Take a look at the clouds in your life and find that silver lining.  And now it's time to give my attention back to the one who needs it. My chocolate covered strawberries await!

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.....

    So I'm sitting here in the cancer treatment center with Mr. Jones scrolling through everyone's FB posts. Lately I feel like my life has been inundated with other people's hardships. I find myself so worried about this one and praying for that one and feeling so bad for the other one. And here I sit watching the man for whom the sun in my life rises and sets face the most difficult thing he's ever had to, and the last person I'm feeling sorry for is MYself. "FML?" WTF?!.... Really? Maybe there's something wrong with ME. Maybe I'm delusional, but I just can't sit here and whine and complain that things are going the way I would want them to. I know I'm a freak. I'm not wired the way most people are; happy is my factory default setting. I wake up every morning feeling happy automatically. If there's something going on that makes me unhappy, it actually takes a few seconds after I wake up before I remember that my life at the moment is less than perfect. And even then, during the course of the day, I get caught up in my lesson or the of-color jokes of my colleagues or my 2 year old daughter saying "Are you kidding me?" and I forget for a minute or an hour or a 39 minute period that I'm supposed to be feeling depressed about my life. How can I?

     I teach biology. Every time I look around at the world in which we live, I am amazed at the perfection with which it was created. The more you understand about the intricate mechanics of life, the more amazing the world becomes. There is absolute perfection in the universe. The dynamic relationships of living and non living things. The way that certain flowers are specifically designed to be pollinated by a specific moth or butterfly. The way a single egg cell can become a beautiful child. The way that the a mother's body can create the most perfect food for her baby complete with specific antibodies tailor made for her perfect child. How we possibly can look at the intricate beauty of the universe and even for one second think that this complexity could be the result of a series of random accidents. Coincidence, "Are you kidding me?!"

     So at any given moment, I have to concede that universe was created with a plan far beyond my ability to comprehend. Where in this perfection do Mr. Jones and I fall?  Well it was no coincidence that I walked into that gym where he was sitting at that moment in his and my life. It was no coincidence in that night in 2003 when I took that 3 minute test that couldn't possibly be positive and found out my life was about to change forever. Nor is it a coincidence that I am sitting here watching Nurse Wendy push vincristine into the man I love's veins while he flashes his perfect smile and laughs about how "milk does a body good." We are all pawns in His master plan (And do I mean capital H-i-m). I actually feel excited sometimes with anticipation about where this is going to lead us. Cancer IS going to change both of our lives forever. We are meeting so many interesting and wonderful people. I wonder who else we will meet that will introduce us to someone who will show us something that will inspire us to...something. Something wonderful is at the end of this journey. Maybe it's a deeper faith. Maybe it's a closer marriage. Maybe it's a new appreciation for the simple things. Maybe it's just a better outlook on life. But make no mistake, my life is has already changed direction, and I am fully aware that I am not driving the bus. All I can do is open the window (so I don't get motion sickness) and enjoy the ride.

     Lately I have that Katy Perry song playing in my head over and over again, "BABY YOU'RE A FIREWORK..." (although, sometimes when I get to the "Boom Boom Boom" part the soundtrack changes to another song from 1987 with a very different message- but I digress.) I KNOW he will conquer this cancer, and I feel like I can conquer the world. And I WILL leave you all going AHH! AHH! AHH! You will NEVER see me post FML. Because my life is blessed. And maybe I AM a freak....but I'm a HAPPY freak. Don't you want to be a happy freak too?

      Hoping I made you smile and forget that you are unhappy....even if it is for just a minute. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to "go back to my room. So we can..." forget it, wrong song again.

Love, Joy and Happiness to you Always (....and foreverrrr each moment with yooouuuuu...I really need to stop..)

  

March Madness: Am I tough enough?

I’ve been thinking a lot about inner strength. My life, as of late, has given new meaning to term “March Madness.” It used to mean how mad I get when my favorite TV shows have been replaced by a basketball game that I couldn't care less about, but in 2011 it describes a series of doctors visits, re-arranged schedules, last minute baby sitting requests, frenzied Google searches, mass text messages, and hour long commutes to spend hours in a waiting room. This is totally ignoring the fact that I have a full time job, two kids and a household to maintain. I keep looking for the fast-forward button of life. (I won’t tell you what my friend Jennie said she did with it.... apparently I’m not the only one who needs it.) And that’s just it, I’m NOT the only one who needs it.

I won’t keep you in suspense any more. For those of you wondering the results of Mr. Jone’s tests last month, the results came back cancerous. But its OK. It’s “only” lymphoma. In case you haven’t been told as many times as we have, “If you’re gonna get cancer, that’s the one you want!” That’s because it is considered “curable,” and treatments only last a few months. And that’s all well and good (you see that’s why I need that damn fast forward button), but it’s still cancer. He still has to endure being poked and prodded, undressed and felt up and then of course there is the chemotherapy which has not yet begun. Plus there’s the realization that he has cancer. I can’t really understand what he’s going through emotionally. I can only address my own feelings, and mostly I feel overwhelmed. I know in my heart of hearts that he will be fine. We will endure, and he will be well again. His hair should even be grown back by Christmas. Every night I pray for the strength to get through it. I pray for both of us.

I didn’t start this Blog to complain. Nor did I want to invite you to a pity party. My intention has always been and still is to inspire hope for a happy life. And in spite of all the insanity around me, I still feel happy. I still can’t help smiling. The two of us are sitting in the oncologist office laughing hysterically over rubber gloves. How can I still be happy? No, I’m not delusional. I am very aware of the challenges I am about to face. But it doesn’t change that fact that I have a beautiful family, a job I love, wonderful colleagues, amazing friends and a faith that is unshakeable. I have created a world in which I am surrounded by love. I don’t tolerate negativity; I disassociate myself from those people. I always find something to laugh about. I am fortunate enough to have friends who can make even the most awful things seem hysterical. (If I could only tell you what she said she did with that fast forward button!) Laughter really is key. Plus, I’m painfully aware that others around me and in other parts of the world suffer so greatly, and that it makes my issues seem less difficult to handle. We WILL endure.

Last week I had a moment of fear and weakness. I was talking with my friend John at work about it. This is a guy who has lived through great loss, a tour in Iraq, and more than his share of traumatic events. He said to me, “You’ll be all right. You’re tough.” I said, “Yeah, but I’m afraid I don’t know if I’m THAT tough.” He said, “Yeah, you are. I can tell.” A brief conversation. He probably doesn’t even remember it. But for some reason it replays in my head every day. I AM tough. I CAN do this. I can take care of Mr. Jones, and my girls, and my students, and my house, and it WILL all be over soon. WE WILL ENDURE!

And so will you. Whatever it is in your life that seems insurmountable. YOU can endure it. Find something to laugh about. Find someone to hold you. And in case you’re not lucky enough to have a good friend tell you.... YOU ARE TOUGH. YOU WILL ENDURE!

Sadly, I don’t think I ever will find that fast forward button. So I’ll leave you with a quote that one of my girlfriend’s recently gave us on a plaque. “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”
Be well! Be happy! Be strong!

We Can Do it!

My name might not be Rosie, but I can still be rivitting!

Be Not Afraid

     Happily-Ever-After! It's a tall order, I know. Sometimes life just sucks. And we wonder why. What did I do to deserve this? I already spoke about how we can't always get what we want, but sometimes we get things we really don't want. And what then? Very often we question our faith. We pray for some sort of miracle that will suddenly make everything ok. We bargain with God. Please please please, if you just ...., I promise I will... and nothing changes. And then we get angry with God. Why did you do this to me? And some of us even doubt God. How can there be a God when .....happens? The problem is that most of us say we have faith, but we don't really understand faith.

     Really having faith is much more complex than believing in God. It's much more difficult than going to chuch or temple every week. In fact, faith is not something you have at all. It's something you live. It's taking the high road when the low road seems much more satisfying. It's forgiving another person when your heart is broken. It's opening your heart to strangers in need. It's giving your prescious time to someone you love. And it's accepting that God loves you and that the plan for your life is greater than this horrible moment in time. Living your faith doesn't always come naturally or easily. I believe that's because as humans we are flawed by the limitations of our minds and bodies. We are unable to see the big picture of our lives. It's like when you watch a movie for the first time. The sad parts affect you so much that first time. Then you get to the happy ending and you get it. The sad part was necessary for the progression of the plot. The next time you see that same movie, you notice all of the little things you missed last time because you were focusing on what was about to happen. The sad parts don't affect you as much, if at all. We're watching the movie of our lives for the first time. We spend so much time anticipating the future that we often miss the details that shape the present. And as Franklin Lloyd Wright said, "God is in the details." When we look back at our lives from a ripe old age, the sad parts don't seem to affect us as much, and we understand all of the crazy plot twists that had us so confused. Hind sight really is 20/20.
     Recently my life has had its own plot twist. My husband might have a life-changing illness. I say might because we are waiting for more tests that are weeks away. Last week we had the talk. Neither one of us wanted to admit what we were both thinking the illness is because we were too afraid to say it out loud. As we stood there in our kitchen facing the possibility of what might become the most difficult year of our lives thus far, we held each other and I cried. Then I went up to my room and cried some more while I prayed. When I got to the part of the Novena where I was supposed to ask for something, I stopped. What am I asking for? I can't really ask for it to go away. The wheels are already set in motion. For whatever reason, this is a part of our destiny. I have faith that this is part of our plan. So what do I pray for? Strength, courage, guidance and  wisdom. The ability to make the right decisons, and the guidance to know how to best support my family. And after that, I was able to let go. It doesn't make sense to let my worries take over. Until his test, we don't really know what it is. So I can't really do anything but wait.... and pray. And in the mean time, I somehow feel surrounded by peace. As if I am being lifted up from under my arms and carried through each day. The harder days are ahead of me and I can't help but to feel afraid of what I don't know. But as the fear begins to fill up my belly and my insides begin to twist, I take a deep breath. I know that I will be carried through this storm. I  know that in the end, whatever the outcome is, I will get through it. We will get through it. I have never had to walk through this life alone. And I never will. This is my faith. I live and breath it every day. I try to be the best person that I can possibly be. I only want to live a life that makes me worthy of the love and support with which I have always been surrounded. Somehow this allows me to find joy in life even in my darkest of days. This is how I live happily ever after.

Feed Your Body; Feed My Soul

      Some people eat to live; some people live to eat....yeah, I'm one of those. When I wake up tomorrow morning, I will begin fantasizing about my egg sandwich. I won't eat it until my kids are fed and busy playing. This is so I can focus all of my attention on a breakfast that is not a microwaved bowl of oatmeal. I will lick the dripping cheese off the side, bite into the side slowly, and pick up the crumbs with my finger tips and lick them off. I will make my little Saturday morning treat last as long as I can and make every carefully measured calorie count. Then, while I sip the rest of my Indian tea. I will begin thinking about what I am going to make for dinner. This will determine what I can eat for lunch. And since, like 95% of  other Americans, I started to "get healthy in 2011," I will allow myself some sort of special treat tomorrow night- just because it's Saturday. Not sure what yet, but I know it will be chocolate. And I will smell it first. I will inhale the chocolate's aroma and feel the serotonin levels in my brain rise. I will eat it as slowly as possible letting each bite melt away on my tongue before taking another tiny morsel into my mouth...yes we're still talking about food.

     Okay, so maybe I like food little bit more than the average person, but I know I'm not alone. If I was alone, there wouldn't be a study released every other week or so telling us all how fat we are. For many of us, food = love. I was raised in an Italian American home, so I can only speak from my own experience here, but I was taught that the way you show someone you love them is to cook for them. Or, if someone has taken time to cook for you, you show her your love by eating her food. We eat out to celebrate accomplishments. We eat in when we need to ease pain. We feed our colds with homemade soup. When I met my husband, we both gained 20 pounds during our first year together. Why? Because we ate ice cream while we cuddled in front of the TV. (Now I'm thinking about Phish Food....damn you Ben and Jerry!) Anyway, so much emotion is wrapped up in food, and there are some schools of thought who claim that we should re-program ourselves so that we can just eat for nourishment. "Food does not love you back." And I don't entirely disagree with this. I lost 50lbs before we got married by learning portion control and accepting the fact that EVERY meal doesn't have to be the most indulgent thing I've ever eaten. But I don't think it's possible to separate the emotion from the dinner table. I don't think we're supposed to. I have a theory......(surprised?)
     Humans are social animals. Thousands of years ago, we lived in small clans as hunter/gatherers (we even describe our species in terms of food). Living in the wild, we were always vulnerable to predators. We had to keep our guard up continuously. As animals, we are most vulnerable during certain activities: mating, sleeping, and not surprisingly, eating. When we would eat, we were sharing a kill. The people we would eat with had to be those who we most trusted and cared for. Most likely, they were a blood relation. When we ate, we naturally let our guard down. Now evolutionarily, we haven't changed much at all in the last few 100,000 years. Our bodies may be fatter, but they work the same. When we share food with others, our guard starts to come down. Think about it, when you make a new friend, what do you do with her? Go out to lunch or get a coffee. First dates are usually out to dinner. When you want to bring someone home to meet your parents, you invite them over to dinner. Breaking bread, sharing a meal is the way we build bonds of trust with other people. Every year when I get my work schedule, I frantically ask around to find out who has the same lunch period as me. And every year, I make a new friend at lunch.
     Now chew on this. So much of our memory is tied to our sense of smell. Why do we even need a sense of smell? Primarily to tell if our food is safe to eat. But it also connects us to moments in our life. In my house, I would wake up on Sunday morning to the smell of garlic and onions sauteing in olive oil. I wouldn't even eat breakfast, I just wanted to dip a chunk of bread in my mother's sauce. (And I would always burn my tongue.) The smell of Halloween: dried leaves, crisp air, and the faint smell of chocolate mixed with plastic inside my candy bag (ew, are those Mary Janes?) The smell of Entemann's Bakery (located a block away from my high school) early in the morning as I ran the mile for gym class...I was so confused in those days. And finally, the smell of rotting mangoes. Outside my "dorm" (I use that word loosely) where I stayed when I studied Sustainable Resources in Costa Rica, there was a mango tree. The mangoes were all over the ground rotting. The smell the sour alcoholic rancid mangoes mixed with the occasional waft of pesticide permeated everything and lingered constantly in the air. (I didn't eat a single mango in Costa Rica. Now I can't get enough of them.) Even the memory of the smells of food evokes emotion.
    Then there are the studies that show that when a mother nurses her baby, both the mother and child experience increased levels of oxytocin. This is a hormone associated with bonding. Incidentally, it is also released in both men and women during orgasms, and is found in high concentrations in couples who are newly in love. Even more interesting is that this same hormone is released in mothers who are not nursing and in fathers when they are feeding their newborn babies. It is a hormone that facilitates bonding. I vividly remember when my second daughter was born and I had to leave her in the hospital NICU when I was released 2 days after I gave birth. I was sitting alone in my living room pumping at 2 in the morning. I remember thinking about how she smelled and feeling the same way that I felt when I had first fallen in love with my husband, longing to hold her. Feeding, eating, bonding....it is all one in the same.
    You see, I don't really agree that food = love, but I do think that SHARING food = love. I don't want to get religious on you, but every week Christians around the world "receive God" by eating a tiny piece of  bread. When we feed people, we are giving them more than sustenance; we are giving them a sacrifice of our time and energy. When we accept food from someone, we are telling them that we trust them, and are grateful for their sacrifice. So, while I do want you to all "be healthy in 2011," I also want you to EAT. Break bread with someone. Cook for someone. Eat slowly. Eat joyfully.  Maybe just cut the portion size down a little.
......BUT if you come over my house for dinner, I WILL cook with butter, and salt. I will put cheese on everything that doesn't have chocolate on it. I will indulge you....why? Because I love you, and I want to make you happy!   Now, go!   Mangia!