I do believe I am finally at home, in body as well as mind/work. It's been a fascinating several days, complete with food-tourism and now the welcome return to what I know and need. I want to take a ‘snap-shot’ of another sort here, a look at how well I know what I need and what gifts can arrive in the hospitality of others on an adventure-journey to Brazil.
I arrived home at 10:30 p.m., after a long drive from the airport and a round of the city to get here. I fall into my own bed, freshly showered and relieved “to have made it” by 11:30 p.m. The morning rhythm beckoned, a need for the 'familiar-friends-energies' stronger than my body’s need for rest. Or maybe my body’s need for movement-rest in the welcoming-familiar spaces I get to play in these days. Today has been about continuing to arrive home, re-acclimating from a short but intensely full trip to Brasilia, Brazil, home of a writing-sister-friend, Lorena, and her family, Roberto, Luisa (14), and Sandra (9).
An important part of the weekend was the food, after all, amidst table-fellowship and festivities shared together in that way. I entered into the journey with enough supplies to tend to my eating-choices as I do when I have complete choice and control. Seedbread for the journey, some avocados that would have gone bad had I left them at home, macadamia nuts and almonds in single portion bags, for awareness’s sake, coconut-nut ‘granola’ on-plan and easy to travel with. Packets of nut-butters too. The airplane food was clearly processed, but at least they had chicken and a green salad that was ‘close-enough’ for an adventure. My own resources kept me steady and nourished.
The arrival into “Brazilian breakfast fare” was the start of the clear ‘food-tourism’ journey with friends. Tapioca flats—a round, tortilla-like bread that you put butter or cream-cheese on. Jelly if you like. A warm round ‘loaf’ of something called ‘cous-cous,’ though not as I know it. Cornbread with a marvelous texture and taste—not too sweet, good crumb to it. And the next morning, the best papaya I have ever tasted in my life. Fresh, sweet, as it was clearly meant to be eaten. Proteins and greens not in sight, though I think there was a container with ham and cheese in it. Some of the best coffee I’ve tasted—rich, not bitter, smooth.
My internal dialogue was fascinating. I wanted to be fully present to all that was available to me. I felt some fear at how my body might not benefit from the choices available to me. I chose consciously to ‘let go’ into the adventure and trust what would come. This was with ‘food-tourism’ in mind, releasing the conscious choices of these last months about carbs and sugar.
It was important to me to relax into being a guest, in an incredibly hospitable place. It was also important for me to try foods I’ve never had opportunity to try, just to enjoy Brazilian culture and customs. There was curiosity alongside the fear – how would my body respond? Would the hunger patterns of old return? [Yes, they did... Greater ups and downs with low-blood-sugar moments, and then sugar crashes where I lost focus and attention… Expectable and yet negotiable, with awareness.]
I won’t relay the entire buffet of Brazilian food ‘events,’, but the main dishes included a fish stew (moqueca),
I felt like I used to feel regularly—uncomfortable in my skin, bloated, unsure in my feelings/sensations, even unsteady. The cravings’ patterns returned, making me more reactive and edgy, fearful even. I yearned to be home where I could choose for myself without relational host-guest consequence.
I’ve not even been home for 24 hours yet and I feel so much better, steadier, grounded. I got to move this morning, familiar yet scaled for a post-airplane-body day. The grocery was so familiar and welcoming—organic greens of many kinds, ingredients for curried cauliflower soup and cilantro-lime mayo (in which I used to double the lime, I recalled! Much tastier with that much zing). Various meats jumped into my basket, and I returned home to myself with a favorite breakfast – eggs, finely chopped kale, thick-cut bacon, and ½ avocado. One half portion of granola or chia porridge with almond butter, if I’m still hungry, which I usually am. I prepped salads and soups, roasted the brussel sprouts that would have gone bad if left much longer.
Now I sit here on my couch, Nala sleeping next to me, finally feeling more myself than I have in the last 3-4 days. I’m glad for everything I got to taste, to experience, to learn in my travel to a continent and country I had never been to before. And I am glad to return home, BE in my skin as I now know to be, smiling into the moments before me with CF peeps, family, friends, and a calming, steadying way to feel good in my own body again. A bit of a list poem says more...
The Healthy Pleasures of Home
Bear hugs at the airport
Debrief of all our travels,
each in his/her own language(s)
The warmth of a canine welcome,
Nala lap-napping on the car ride home
Deep sense of connection
with those now far away again,
A yearning to remain-with,
a yearning to be returned Home.
Hot showers after multiple airports
Sleeping in one’s very own bed,
Companioned with life-partner love
Early morning movement
with fitness-focused friends
[Including stories of fish-nibbling pedicures
(who does that anyway? 😁)]
Return to body-familiar activity,
Jungle-gym play in welcoming safe space
A variety of warm-up, workout, memory:
Oxygen in, carbon-dioxide out
Prayer of another sort.
Familiar grocery stores and food labels
Greens and more greens—
kale, asparagus, avocado, zucchini and more
“Good morning, beautiful” in my ear
Brazilian coffee and breakfast anticipations
A home in the Shire, really,
With soft edges and necessary rhythms
Of presence, absence, friendship & solitude
Prayer of another sort.
Food preparations that make a body smile
Kale—two kinds—and curried cauliflower soup
Three pepper salad, to make use of what-is
Bacon, brussel sprouts, chia porridge,
Another batch of cilantro lime mayo
(Double the lime) after a favorite breakfast
Familiar tastes, pleasure in feeling good again
Prayer of another sort.
None of these things makes a home
All of them welcome me fully, blessedly, Home.