Not your typical food post. Secret message embedded.

So, I admit, I've done my fair share of pointless food posts. Sometimes you just get so excited about what you're eating that you have to share it. But, just like trying to capture the feeling of sharing a romantic sunset with your loved one via camera CCD, something always seems to get lost in translation. We don't "feel" the same way from the photo that we did when we experienced the scene or situation. Why is that? 

I think it's because the way we experience a scene, or even a plate of food, is enhanced by a combination of sensory cues: sight, smell, sounds, feel, and of course, taste. Trying to rekindle all that sensation via a single dimensional photograph is mediocre at best. But even more fleeting to capture is the intangible element of love that is infused in that moment. For a beautiful scene, it may be the feeling of sharing that view with a special person, or maybe the memory of someone it evokes. It may be the simple "rose colored glasses" we view almost everything through when we are in a place of being in love in our lives. 

I also believe that food carries with it the love of the creator, cook, or even the person that served it to you. It carries the energy of the kitchen, the restaurant, or the chef that conceived it. It carries the quality of the ingredients and the care that went in to mindfully producing them. When food is produced with love and good intentions, it nourishes you in a way that surpasses your tummy and warms your heart. Food that is ingrained with positive energy tastes better, is healthier, and makes you feel better than the food that is not. I know this to be true. 

I thought about this today as I ate my regular meal at Pono Farms, in Bend. The energy of the people preparing and serving it only complement the already amazing ingredients and recipes. I feel good when I eat there. On very rare occasions, I don't feel quite as good after eating there, and I realize it's probably because the cook was in a grumpy mood or the manager/chef was not there that day – not because the ingredients have changed.

So all of this has me thinking about the hidden, yet very real, element of energy that we infuse in to what we do – whether it be creating a photograph for someone, having a conversation with them, or preparing them a meal. We can do it with love and good intentions, leaving them with an infusion of intangible satisfaction; or we can do it mindlessly – leaving them with nothing more than, well, stuff. Fast food. Maybe even indigestion. 

I'm taking a bit more time to think about the kind of energy I'm feeding my body, surrounding myself with, and also putting out there to the world. Thoughts?