Sun, the very first flowers in the yard, elegant gowns, bare legs, sense of everything-and-yet-what. And then suddenly: stress! Not simply stress, but gorgeous weather stress. Because with the sun also the layers of clothing disappear and the swimwear is already squeaking out of the closet starving. And hungry is the word that enters your mind prior to me. Due to the fact that as quickly as spring remains in the country, you will be beaten up with all sorts of diet plans.
Soup diet, banana diet plan, protein diet, fiber diet, blood group diet plan, crash diet … All with the objective of dissolving the wintery fat layer. The objective is not necessarily healthy and vital to enter into the summertime, but tight, slender, fitting in a kid’s size as if your body never ever brought and bore 3 kids, or if your hormonal agents would not be subject to something as unimportant as time. Starving however in honor of that requiring Western goddess: Charm ideal.
And all that to change our slavish custom-made to that other Western deity:
Satisfaction. Eating too much and frequently to please a psychological requirement. Goesting. Habit. Status. Quickly appeasing that gnawing feeling.
I often wonder, and I am not alone, whether we simply eat excessive and too often. Due to the fact that someone once chose that we ought to consume three times a day. And then once again in between, and yes, in the evening it is so nice to have a little nibble. A good friend stated when during a lecture about vigor: “We have no stomach, we have a bag.” A very versatile bag, which extends when we consume more (then also asks for more and more food), which you can constrict and agreement (then stretch again), which a large part of us do during a day, a week, identifies a life.
Directed by a bag. Filling or starving that bag is the concern.
My grandpa was 102 years of ages. He is one of the healthiest people I have known. When he was young and daddy of a sprout or ten, he strolled every morning around 5 o’clock straight through the woods to his work where he reached about 7 o’clock. In the evening he walked back home again. To his grow or 10. I never ever knew how to call him. Also do not know de-stress. And many of all: I never ever saw him extend his bag or starve.
When we had a household party with steaming dishes loaded with goodies and my mom wished to stuff his plate a 2nd time, he always said: ‘Not for me, thank you, I’m coming.’ My grandfather ate the quantity that his body needed. No more, no less. And he consumed inning accordance with the seasons, exactly what his field brought to him that month. He was not busy with ‘winter layers’ and ‘tight’. As I said, he understood no tension, walked every day for hours through the forest and looked after a ten-year-old.
Healthy, vital, happy. Would not that be a beautiful, brand-new appeal perfect?