ISSUE NO. 740

I HAVE A HUNGER . . . 
 

the kind that can't be nourished by strolling through the overloaded aisles of an easily accessible grocery store. In fact, it's the overwhelming abundance of food - especially when it expires or makes its way to monitored dumpsters - that only deepens the ache. To know there is so much food available and yet there are so many people starving in Gaza makes one feel bereft, helpless, even panicked at times.

While we are grateful for what surrounds us, no amount of access, availability, or privilege can make up for the fact that we all participate in systems that bring great suffering to others. This leaves a deep aching hunger that no amount of food can fix. 


I have a deep yearning for a recognition of the truth that we are all deeply intertwined. That hurting any of us, hurts all of us. That regardless of what we use to collectively numb or distract ourselves, there is no way to escape the fact: we are one. And that the only way out of this is to recognize this and work as one. 

These past few weeks, I've spent thirty minutes in the garden each morning. Before anyone else in the household stirs, I tend to the little plot of the Earth we are lucky to steward. We think we are caring for it, but it sustains us. 

Each morning offers lessons in generosity and abundance. I continue to propagate plants, multiplying those in our plot and distributing others to eager gardeners around the neighborhood. With just a little time, a little knowledge, a little experience, a little experimenting, I see a whole diverse community of living beings thrive: plants proliferating, welcoming birds and bees. Friends sharing resources. Something within us all unfurling. 

There is enough. There has always been enough. When we see the unnatural shortage of this abundance, weaponized against people who are us, we have to remember that the truth remains, in spite of harmful lies.

I hunger for a world where we collectively recognize this and work to re-distribute resources so that everyone has what they need. I crave a world where success is measured by how much we care for each other (without wholly sacrificing ourselves). May our questions, imaginations, and truths lead us there.


To nourishing everyone,

Tay + Dor

tidbits...

resources on anti-racism, environmentalism and food culture AKA stuff we're reading / listening to / watching / noticing / thinking about / captivated by this Tuesday . . .
 

Do One Small Thing . . . to connect with hunger - your own or someone else's - this week. Some people choose to fast, while others look to abundance around them - in gardening, cooking, sharing, or distributing food. If you are overwhelmed by the possibilities, is there one small thing you can build a habit around, such as saying a blessing before each meal, and see what arises? Let us know how your hunger impacts you this week.

Bread and Puppet shows the beauty and humanity in expressing emotion and action through moveable art. 

Sami Tamimi expressing sentiments that every person that works in food needs to read and honor. 


Why Are Your Poems So Dark? A poem for your day by Linda Pastan.

"Ultimately, fighting for Palestine helped free us." -
 Allison Celosia on the story of how one small non-profit was singled out by institutional repression, and how they rose above it.

View and share this free guide to How to Write a More Equitable Job Post, and stay tuned for new resources to deepen this work.

"Plenty has been written about the economic impact of the pandemic on the food industry, but not enough about its lingering effects on the bodies of people whose mission is to nourish us." Read the latest GFJ Story on the creator behind Anjali's Cup, with words by Nicole J. Caruth and photos by Christine Han.


got a tidbit? drop it here for us and we'll share it in next week's newsletter.