The Old Woman Who Was Hungry – day 1

It’s my first day of not eating.  I was feeling okay until about 11:00 am, then I started thinking about the crackers, the chips and the cookies in the kitchen at the office.   I was thinking that it would be okay to have a couple of crackers just to ward off the hunger.  Normally by this time of day I would have had a cup of yogurt and I’d be thinking about heating up a bowl of those handy, dandy instant Raman noodles.  But, I abstained and ate nothing.

12:00

At 12:00 (lunchtime), people went into the kitchen and started heating up their lunches.  The smell of cooked food filled the air.  It’s a very cool day; it’s the kind of day that one would have a hot bowl of soup, chicken noodle, clam chowder or even a full hot meal – mashed potatoes, chicken, peas…something very hot to warm your insides and something very filling.  For some reason, I associate cold weather with being full and satisfied.  Maybe it’s an instinctive kind of thing because the body needs to add more fat during winter.  Who knows…

As I thought about food, I thought about the fact that those who don’t have any food simply don’t have food.  If they ate, it’s because they asked for it, asked for money and received it or they stole it from someone or somewhere, or they ate it from garbage cans.  And, if I was going to keep my commitment to not eat for two days, to have this experience, then I could not eat.  Unless — (“Unless?” my little mind buzzed — “You mean there’s a way I can break this commitment?”)  “Yes,” unless I went out on the street and asked strangers for money for food, found food on the street, in the garbage or wherever.  I cannot ask anyone that I know for money.  I decided right then and there, if I did eat anything today or tomorrow, that would be the only way that I can. 

The thought of going out and begging brought a whole new dynamic to my thinking. 

“Oh, my God!  Go out on the street and ask strangers for money!!?  Is that even something I can do?”

I my present state, no, because I have options.  If absolute worse comes to absolute worse, I can eat.  I have food.  So what I am doing is invalidated in a way because of those options.  People who are hungry don’t have my choices.  But, still I can mirror the old woman’s experience of not eating for two days.  I can let myself be hungry.

So I will make it past the lunch hour today.  I have barriers in my mind that will not allow me to go into the kitchen and snack on anything.

2:00 pm

I am starting to feel a little lightheaded from not eating.  I go outside to take a short stroll and I look at the grass and begin to wonder what it tastes like.  The leaves on the trees are starting to turn colors; what do they taste like?  Is there any nutrional value in them?  How about the flowers I see.  What do they taste like? 

The orange-colored ones are glossy.  I imagine what it would feel like to chew them and what they would feel like sliding down my throat…

I come back into the office and have to walk into the kitchen to put something in the garbage.  I look at the cookies and the crackers on the counter and turn my head away from them.  I throw away my item and I walk back to my desk.  The lightheadedness stays with me and I am beginning to feel the slight pain of a headache approaching from the distance and I am really hungry. 

I cup my face in my hands, massage my brow, put my head up and continue working.

4:00 pm

Just came in from getting a bit of fresh air again — something to break up the monotony of sitting at a desk and working and not eating.  My mind is thinking about the compromise that I offered myself – to eat out of the garbage.  I go in the kitchen and take a quick look in the garbage can.  The only thing that looks remotely viable is the plastic container with the remnants of someone’s salad.  There’s just a few pieces of shredded carrots and two small pieces of lettuce.  I choose to pass.

I look at the crackers and the cookies on the counter again.  I think about the variety of chips in the cabinets.  I make no action other than to leave the kitchen.

I think about how I am looking forward to just going to sleep and leaving the thoughts of my body’s discomfort behind – at least for a little while…

I realize that the fact that I can pass up on the bits of salad in the garbage make this merely a game and not reality.  People who are homeless and hungry don’t have the luxury to pass up someone else’s leftovers.  They get to a point where survival overrides their pride and the hand goes into the garbage can. 

I return to the kitchen to get more water and realize the luxury in being able to do even that.  If I was homeless and/or had no money, I would have to go to public areas to get even a drink of water.  The library is a place that comes to mind. 

I remember reading about Sylvester Stallone and how before he became successful, he lived in an apartment with no heat.  He hung out at the library and read books simply because it was warm.  My mentor too, or even more so because he actually was homeless as a teenager, would spend hours in the library simply because it was a place to go and there was heat. 

So, I leave the kitchen without a drink.

Shit.  Someone’s in the kitchen making popcorn.  The smell is infectious…

6:00 pm

I am home. Normally I reach my hand into the cookie container and eat half-cookies as I move about the house. The dogs are all over me wanting to be fed. My spoiled pets eat chicken. No dog food, chicken. I buy chicken breasts, boil them and chop them up very, very fine for my 17-year-old. The three year old gets his chicken too, but in much larger pieces. This is their daily meal along with any leftovers from someone’s dinner. Wow. My dogs eat better than the old woman.

I resist the cookies, feed the dogs and head over to the studio where I craft my music and record. There, I cook a box of rice and beans for my producer/mentor. It’s easy. You just boil some water, reduce the temperature to simmer and pour in the bag. This is where I cheat. This is where I break the vow. I eat a large spoonful of rice and beans after it is cooked.

It would have been better if I dropped the food on the floor and then ate it because then I could equate it to eating out of a garbage can…

9:00 pm

I miss my cup of hot chocolate that I usually go to bed with. Especially tonight because the house is so cold. I’m not crazy about winter. I hate to be cold. Though it’s just the beginning of fall, the house has a chill throughout it. I can’t walk barefoot on the floors as I love to. It’s just too cold.

I’ve got warm flannel sheets on my bed and three fluffy quilts. (Did I mention that I hate to be cold?) I climb in between the sheets, cover myself with the quilts and am instantly warm. I think about the old woman and wonder if she actually has a place to live. I think about all of those human beings who don’t. I wonder where they are sleeping tonight and I wonder if they are warm.

I am so privileged. I am in my comfy bed, I have cable tv to watch, I have german chocolate cake in the fridge waiting for my two days of hunger to be over and I have all of these quilts to keep me warm.

When you’re not satisfied with where you are and what you have, all you need to do is think about those who have far less and you realize you have no reason to complain. I’ve got a nice house, a fairly good sized one, I have two dogs, two cats and five turtles. I’ve got woods behind me and go to sleep to the sound of crickets every night. I am blessed.

I close my eyes for the night and send love to all of those who don’t have the basics. I send love to all the other parts of me.