Saturday week 1 of Lent. So far I've been living from my store cupboard but I need to go shopping soon and will have to take a calculator with me as maths is not my strong point.
Ash Wednesday was cheese on toast for lunch - and the Bishop was here and keeping a frugal Ash Wednesday; it went against my Celtic instinct for hospitality to serve him a modest plate of two small slices of cheese topped toast!
Dinner was chick pea stew that sufficed for Thursday lunch and then with a small jacket potato for Friday Lunch as well. Thursday supper was poached egg on toast and yesterday evening I made carrot and lentil soup which should serve me for two or three more meals. I've made a batch of American style pancakes and am storing them in the fridge for breakfasts. I'll put up some recipes for anyone interested later.
I already notice that focusing on food in this way is making me focus on the importance of my body; my being physically in the world and how precious this gift is. I am paying more attention to a healthy diet because I have less to build it from - or so I perceive! I am finding myself more mindful : more present in the moment. I realise that I am returning to the animal pre-occupation with the basics and essentials of life : food, shelter, warmth, and less with the luxuries and fripperies of modern, human life.
And then there's the unconscious mind throwing up memories and wisdom as it can when we are paying attention to the present moment. Why does the food bank evoke such angst and concern in me?
I see very clearly a scene from my childhood: my mother knelt on the partially carpeted living room floor with her 'debt jar' in front of her and the money it usually contains laid out in piles in front of her. Her face a study in anguish, beads of sweat on her furrowed forehead. My sister and I knew we were to be silent; not to disturb her with a single sound as she did magic, stretching our meagre budget to meet the demands of the week. "I'll borrow the gas money to pay the electric and I'll put it back next week." There was no extra money coming in next week, so the sleight of hand shuffle would move the money the other way, come the following Monday.
This experience has stayed with me all my life. Although I'm aware of its legacy, I have not been able to entirely expunge it from my mind, and the fear of not having enough money to survive can raise its head at an instant with the right trigger. The animal instinct that causes us to fight for survival is not so very far beneath the surface and with it the awareness of the fragility of life. Money has become synonymous with the basic needs of life and when it's in short supply, in floods the fear of not being able to provide for ourselves and those who rely upon us.
As I think about those relying on the food banks today, I am aware of all those children today who are growing up in that same climate of fear that there will not be enough; that everything may be lost at any moment, and I see another generation growing up with a false sense of their own ability to provide for themselves and to be 'enough' and of equal value as those who are financially wealthy.
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