“Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food.”
Hippocrates, who lived 2384 ago.

“…Consciousness, the great poem of matter, seems so unlikely, so impossible, and yet here we are with our loneliness and our giant dreams. Speaking into the perforations of a telephone receiver as if through the screen of a confessional, we do sometimes share our emotions with a friend, but usually this is too disembodied, too much like yelling into the wind. We prefer to talk in person, as if we could temporarily slide into their feelings. Our friend first offers us food, drink. It is a symbolic act, a gesture that says: This food will nourish your body as I will nourish your soul. In hard times, or in the wild, it also says I will endanger my own life by parting with some of what I must consume to survive. Those desperate times may be ancient history, but the part of us forged in such trials accepts the token drink and piece of cheese and is grateful.”

Extract from A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman

This summer I made an organic vegetable garden, cooked healthy and delicious meals for family and friends, practiced yoga, meditated, lit candles, read, and thought:

My body will be my temple

My bonds will be my home,

And I will make my home my shelter.