I make bread, not because I’m some sort of home-making queen and crafting goddess who actually chooses her outfits and does her hair each day – and blogs about it – but because the bread here tastes like shit. Well, actually, it tastes like sugar which is worse.
I use greasproof paper to line the tin when I do (I say line, what I mean is I tear off a bit, place it on top of the tin and use the weight of the dough to push it in). So what happens is, when I take the loaf out and remove the paper, bits of the loaf sometimes get stuck to the paper. I couldn’t help but notice earlier that my automatic response is to scrape off the doughy scraps from the paper and shove them into my gob. Because that is what I caught myself just about to do, not 30 minutes ago.
Now, what is the problem with this you might ask? It’s the chef’s delight or whatever, besides, it’s only a scrap of bread. Homemade bread at that.
The problem is that I don’t like unconscious eating behaviours. I don’t want my food behaviours to be driven by automatic responses. I want to be in charge because I’m the one with the authority, dammit, not my lower brain (which the one who creates these automatic, conditioned, habitual responses).
There was a second when I really wanted to do it though. Fortunately I caught myself just in time and it was thanks to a magical phrase that I’ve started saying to myself in moments like these.
Now full disclosure, this is not my phrase. I got it from Mary Schiller, all-round 3 principles princess and rocking coach, and I believe, if you asked her, she’d credit one of her earlier coaches for coming up with it. So provenance of this phrase- I’ve no idea – but it’s a goodie so I’m going to share it.
So, I was just about to bring this morsel of bread up to my lips when I said to myself, “CB, what if this is actually easy?”. Meaning of course, “what if not eating this is actually easy?”.
In that instant everything I know to be true came roaring into my awareness.
1 The bread isn’t making me want it, I’m feeling my thought. It’s a thought-created desire.
2 The desire is not tethered to the object of the bread. The feeling I’m experiencing is nothing to do with bread, nor me desiring it.
3 The object of the bread is just a lump of atoms and neurons and protons and quarks and stuff. It’s nothing, it’s meaningless. It is tasteless and experience-less without the creative agent of my thought.
And with that knowledge rampaging through my mind, I chucked, automatically, the bit of bread overboard.
Now I know this seems small and silly, but it really isn’t. It’s a demonstration of the in-built authority we all have over our minds, and a reminder that we can call on that authority, whenever we want. We get to decide what thinking we’re going to accept and allow to become part of our reality, thank you. We get to throw overboard any thinking that doesn’t serve us. We get to do this because IT IS ACTUALLY EASY.
And it’s damn useful, because when I find myself berating myself because I’m not a home-making rock star and my knives and forks don’t match and my hair is dry and knotty and always looks terrible, I can throw that thinking overboard too, because that thinking just creates feelings of inferiority and unworthiness, which are not in any way fun.
The truth is, you can train yourself to value only thoughts that are helpful, and when you do? Your whole life suddenly and quite dramatically improves. Starting with complete freedom from food.
And the best part is, it really is easy. Because you’re only ever up against thought, and it’s easy to resist something that is nothing, when you’ve realised there is nothing to resist.
Photo by Jess Bailey on Unsplash