Savoring
When my boys were young, still so little that they had only just begun eating anywhere other than at the breast, I found myself constantly using the word savor.
“Savor!” I would cry, lustily, as they ate a green bean or piece of sweet potato.
What I was really saying was “Please take tiny bites and don’t choke. I have not yet learned the Heimlich maneuver and you could die.” I could have used other words, like “chew” or “slow, please, slow!” I could have cut the food up into tiny pieces or mashed it into a puree. But I like to think that I was unconsciously sharing one of my favorite life concepts with them, as early as possible.
I have always loved to savor. I would take a pint of peppermint ice cream, when I was in high school, and split it up into spoonfuls, retrieved one at a time from the carton in the freezer, between bouts of homework. I relished that one bite, focusing on the bright Christmasy feeling I got when my tooth would hit a piece of red candy. Only. on.that. Today, I am still the last one to finish my plate of food at a shared meal.
But it isn’t just food. This past weekend, on a much anticipated weekend visit to New York City, I found myself seeing the details of what went on around me in an other-worldly, vivid clarity.
The pigeons that took off into the bright October morning sun, en masse, from the edge of a roof above. Time stopped. I can still feel that combination of wings and light and Village Bohemians on 8th Street.
The incredible variety of pens at the stationary store across the street from our AirBnB was savored several times. I came home with four new notebooks, three pens and a beautiful blue pencil that they sharpened for me so that I could do the Sunday NYTimes crossword.
Seeing Marie Kondo’s doppelgänger on our boat to Ellis Island.
Our thick Turkish coffees served in intricately cut silver cups. We don’t usually drink full caffeine anymore and definitely not after dinner, as we did that night. Fabulous.
The homeless man at Starbucks whose grateful eyes gave us so much more than we had given him.
As we did not have much time there, we didn’t post anything to social media the whole weekend. We didn’t have time to see everyone we knew who lives there. Not posting gives the savoring a different flavor. I think we may have been more present. I know we stayed off our phones much more.
I am in the process of putting certification to a 24 year old obsession of mine with healthy food. I am becoming a health coach. While in NY, I was thinking about all of the knowledge I carry around about food and how it has affected my savoring. I still ate the bagel, (gluten free due to an intolerance but still loaded with an inch thick layer of cream cheese and another inch of lox,) and the best GF pizza I have ever had. But I also found an organic juice bar around the corner from where we were staying and had celery juice two of the days we were there. I drank a glass of wine at a restaurant called “Amelie” (named for my favorite French movie) and the headache I had the next morning didn’t keep me from another glass of red wine that night with my pizza, or a vodka martini at the Russian Tea Room the night after that. I have been noticing how much better I feel and think without alcohol, and those few savored glasses, thankfully, did not change that realization.
I have an ever increasing awareness of what our food choices do to our bodies. I have cleaned up my diet more and more with each week of study. I truly savor the celery juices and the kale salads. But it is ever so important to me never to lose sight of the nurturing I feel from eating NY dough (pizzas and bagels are truly better there from the water!) and from eating whatever accompanies being with certain important people in my life, or tasting something I’ve never tried before. It’s all good, as long as its savored.
