Picnic
A reflection on the play and intuition embedded in rituals of eating
Amanda HensonIn early April of 2020, I found myself stress baking bagels, cakes, and pies for the few people left in my apartment building.The unemployment phone line had become my best friend, and my health insurance was going to run out at the end of the month. I was one of the fortunate ones, yet I still experienced a daily, consistent state of fear. Before that year, most of my time was spent preparing food for others. Come April, I began to ritualize each of my own meals; intentionally spending time to learn about what nourished my body and mind. My emotional state defined my physical existence; I used food as a means to explore resilience and control.
Rituals are a series of actions performing a ceremony. They begin with questions; what small, gradual change to start with today? I will light a candle with every meal. I will eat most meals outside. I will eat off of the dishes I love. I will experiment with the ingredients available. I will share my love of food with others. I will always leave room to bend, alter, and adapt. During this time, I consumed foods that sparked belonging; a glass of iced tea heavy on the lemon served in my favorite ceramic mug, a bowl of rice, lentils, vegetables, and then chili crisp for dinner on the rooftop. How I consumed my meals, and where I ate them, were as crucial to my ritual as the food on the plate.
To listen to the signs of our bodies is a political act; a manner of existential agency we're out to reclaim in order to feel whole. We spend our lives balancing on a beam between assimilating into culture and creating it. We are complex, highly emotional beings that thrive in structured environments, yet we yearn for freedom. The short film, Picnic, was inspired by places and ingredients that evoked nostalgia and feelings of belonging during a global pandemic. This performance is a metaphor for adaptability; a reflection on the play and intuition embedded in my practice of eating.