Food and Fantasy
Where ya headed?
It turns out I really love food. I don’t like to cook for myself as much as for me and others, and I LOVE trying tasties in new towns. For example, Mother's!
Oh delish, I wish I had a mother to cook for me like Mother's! She’s a good surrogate (my mother passed in 2020), especially because so far I can’t use my juicer on the road (I brought it, but too messy), and I don't have the patience to create my own açai bowls…I truly delight in having food prepared for me by others. It’s a love language of mine.
Plus, I’m still a little intimidated by the convection cooktop in the van. But, it works great! I made toast!
And spinach (not pictured)!
The van has food storage:
Yes, I'm one of those people who enjoys occasional pictures of food.
Recently, I ate the best peanut bowl of my life, and a delicious Unicorn Jasmine boba tea, lunching with a friend, here:
Which brings me to the Fantasy section of this post…I am already fantasizing about when I can eat another peanut bowl. That one I really need to deconstruct so I can learn to make it. ❤️❤️❤️
When people hear the word fantasy, they often think romantic or sexual, or financial. Me, I decided years ago I would only use my imagination to focus on things, situations or even connections I wanted and intended to pursue in my life. No more random romance scenarios for me, no pleasure-inducing images of people I knew, or didn’t, nor porny mind-movies, nor lotto wins.
I learned this was even possible in my 20's, from reading Carlos Castaneda, who wrote often of the path of heart and the necessity of disciplining the mind. But it wasn’t until my 30's that I collapsed into sexual recovery, realized my powerlessness over my own behavior and even sexual fantasies, and eventually set out to do something about it.
As a survivor of sexual atrocities, the content of my sexual fantasies reflected my abuse experiences: domination and destruction, of me and others. To change this deliberately was a huge reclamation of my sexual sovereignty. And like giving up porn, anonymous sex, and other heartless, hate-filled connections, foregoing sexual and romantic fantasy meant the loss of quick gratification and relief from pain. It was followed by withdrawal and disabling depression, and the recall of actual traumatic experiences.
So if you think you might have survived something traumatic from your past and aren't sure, start paying attention to your fantasy life, then stop it for a while and see what emerges. Or, you could study your fantasies to get to know yourself better.
How did I stop fantasizing to medicate my pain?
Meditation.
Daily, multiple times daily, meditation and prayer. Asking for help from something good, and greater than me. For years. I found a book that taught me to visualize four angels standing as sentinels in four corners of my mind, radiating light to cast out any dark imaginings that crept in. I did this nightly. I replaced my old mental grooves with new, positive ones, like these affirmations for PTSD survivors from Belleruth Naparstek, and studied Yoga Nidra, falling to sleep each night to the deep, reassuring voice of Rod Stryker.
What we do with our mind really matters. It’s meant to support what we’re called to do with our hearts, and thus our most meaningful lives. So often the mind distracts and detracts from this, and we get derailed.
The above seen in the washroom of a massage office I was blessed to visit today!
These days, I try to keep my mind as clear as possible, and pray for heart-centered inspiration to spring forth, rather than so much emphasis on thinking and I want this, I want that. My questions are more like How can I be in balance, and How can I be of service? That’s where my best joy always shows up, the intersection of balance and service.
When something comes through that clear place, I trust this. That’s how my vantrip began - a heart-urge, a knowing, then a mental focus that took wings…or in this case: tires!
