Chemically sensitive and now also dogged by something resembling rheumatoid arthritis, I found myself craving sweet potatoes and a Norwegian brand of smoked sardines today. It's often said that when you crave a particular food -- assuming it's a good food and one to which you're not allergic -- chances are, you really need that food. Beta-carotene and fish certainly constitute excellent nutritional support. I decided, "Yes, I'll take both."
I checked in the pantry and, instead of a can of mashed sweet potatoes, I found a can of mashed pumpkin. The pumpkin looked really nice scooped out, all fluffy orange. Not bad! I added some coconut oil -- in this warm, humid climate it's no longer white and solid but actual liquid oil -- and I have to say the blend is delicious. When the coconut oil drips down the outer side of the jar, you don't have to wipe it off your hands. You can rub it on your joints. This is soothing.
Then, unassuming and obscure on my pantry shelf, there it was: my abandoned package of Norwegian sardines. Back in the late 90's, I'd eaten sardines nearly every day. This past year or two, however, I began to be revolted by the sardines I usually ate. Seeking a viable substitute, I tried the Norwegian brand. They tasted very good, but the trouble was, they looked exactly like fish. The tails were real tails. I ate one package -- partially. I couldn't bring myself to eat the second package.
The sardines I'd eaten in the old days had looked more like fatty, grey meat from a chicken breast. (No tails.) At the time, I'd needed this slight distancing of visual reality from the fact that I was eating the bodies of fish. Tuna is helpful for masking this reality, as well. Unfortunately, I've been eating approximately four or five cans of tuna per week. That's enough mercury-coated "chicken," I'd say . . . and a possible major contributor to my arthritic state.
When I'd tried to eat my "old" brand of sardines, every new can of that brand began to taste (to me) as though it had actually gone bad . . . even though each purchase was from a different store and spaced weeks or months apart from the previous purchase. Was I tasting the results of chemical pollutants in the fish? Possible sickness in the fish? Chemical sensitivity enhances the sense of smell by a thousand degrees beyond the norm. Taste and the other senses, as well, can become extremely acute due to the injurious action of common chemical toxins upon one's neurological circuitry. Whatever the precise cause of my revulsion to this one boneless brand of fish (and "boneless" was important to me), I had to face it: I'd lost a precious mainstay of my diet.
Just today, however, the thought of those pretty, thin little Norwegian fish coated in silver skin started to be . . . appealing. Then, being wildly inflamed in the leg and feet joints -- and starving -- I simply had to have them. They're very good! (Even the tails.)
A food that doesn't hurt me. An anti-inflammatory food that can actually do tremendous good beyond the mere satisfaction of hunger. A food in its pristine form. How I've missed my fish!
To think that the River Shannon is bursting to the gills with them! Dear people of Ireland, guard your beautiful and health-giving fish! If the fish of the Shannon are to be guarded, then the river must be guarded from imprudent interventions which would disturb the ways of its natural habitat.
If I had my way, I'd live on fish . . .
Yet I was heavily impacted by the perceived deterioration of my one chosen brand of fish. Because of this, it's easy for me to see how the widespread pollution of fish -- and the frequently diseased or declining states of fish whose movement is restricted -- can severely impact the health of a nation.
Fish -- hardy, healthy fish that are free to roam -- are a national treasure.
I checked in the pantry and, instead of a can of mashed sweet potatoes, I found a can of mashed pumpkin. The pumpkin looked really nice scooped out, all fluffy orange. Not bad! I added some coconut oil -- in this warm, humid climate it's no longer white and solid but actual liquid oil -- and I have to say the blend is delicious. When the coconut oil drips down the outer side of the jar, you don't have to wipe it off your hands. You can rub it on your joints. This is soothing.
Then, unassuming and obscure on my pantry shelf, there it was: my abandoned package of Norwegian sardines. Back in the late 90's, I'd eaten sardines nearly every day. This past year or two, however, I began to be revolted by the sardines I usually ate. Seeking a viable substitute, I tried the Norwegian brand. They tasted very good, but the trouble was, they looked exactly like fish. The tails were real tails. I ate one package -- partially. I couldn't bring myself to eat the second package.
The sardines I'd eaten in the old days had looked more like fatty, grey meat from a chicken breast. (No tails.) At the time, I'd needed this slight distancing of visual reality from the fact that I was eating the bodies of fish. Tuna is helpful for masking this reality, as well. Unfortunately, I've been eating approximately four or five cans of tuna per week. That's enough mercury-coated "chicken," I'd say . . . and a possible major contributor to my arthritic state.
When I'd tried to eat my "old" brand of sardines, every new can of that brand began to taste (to me) as though it had actually gone bad . . . even though each purchase was from a different store and spaced weeks or months apart from the previous purchase. Was I tasting the results of chemical pollutants in the fish? Possible sickness in the fish? Chemical sensitivity enhances the sense of smell by a thousand degrees beyond the norm. Taste and the other senses, as well, can become extremely acute due to the injurious action of common chemical toxins upon one's neurological circuitry. Whatever the precise cause of my revulsion to this one boneless brand of fish (and "boneless" was important to me), I had to face it: I'd lost a precious mainstay of my diet.
Just today, however, the thought of those pretty, thin little Norwegian fish coated in silver skin started to be . . . appealing. Then, being wildly inflamed in the leg and feet joints -- and starving -- I simply had to have them. They're very good! (Even the tails.)
A food that doesn't hurt me. An anti-inflammatory food that can actually do tremendous good beyond the mere satisfaction of hunger. A food in its pristine form. How I've missed my fish!
To think that the River Shannon is bursting to the gills with them! Dear people of Ireland, guard your beautiful and health-giving fish! If the fish of the Shannon are to be guarded, then the river must be guarded from imprudent interventions which would disturb the ways of its natural habitat.
If I had my way, I'd live on fish . . .
Yet I was heavily impacted by the perceived deterioration of my one chosen brand of fish. Because of this, it's easy for me to see how the widespread pollution of fish -- and the frequently diseased or declining states of fish whose movement is restricted -- can severely impact the health of a nation.
Fish -- hardy, healthy fish that are free to roam -- are a national treasure.
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