now what happens?

I am operating on the basic principle or belief that food is love. And just like love, food can disguise itself. Just like love, without food you will perish. A mother gives you the first experience of food. You eat from your mother. And then when you are full of her breasts, she feeds you another kind of food, the food of the earth. And so she is connected in your spiritual understanding of the earth as the provider of your nourishment, your love, your satisfied belly and heart and soul.

Now what happens when the nourishing ingredients of the earth are diluted, adjusted, cut in half, turned upside down by the demands of the hungry culture? Those ingredients make a thing that looks like love, only it never really fills you up. It makes you reach out for more, always hoping to get your fill, but never allowing you to really feel the state of peace that you know in your deepest knowing you deserve. This bastardization of the ingredients of love turns us into addicts, crawling on our faces for the original feeling we were promised directly out of the womb: that instant connection to another living creature, filling us with the whole food of our mothers. We get locked out, the earth no longer available to us, though always promising silently to hold us and feed us, behind the double paned window of what we think we want. If the ingredients of love are stolen and made alien to us, so that we may no longer be the creators of our own love, we shrink, bend under the promise of a good feeling.