Fresh Tomato at home, 2007.
"If a woman wants to be a poet, she must dwell in the house of the tomato." Erica Jong
I found the quote above in Gayle Brandeis' fascinating book, Fruitflesh. I am completely inspired by it and I can't put it down. If you haven't done that yet, order it immediately. I guarantee you will devour Brandeis delicious words! (Huge thanks to Michelle and Susannah for the tip. I saw it on your lists and I knew it had to be yummy!)
As far as writing guides go, Fruitflesh has been a completely new experience for me. Every chapter starts with a ripening meditation, exploring how a particular fruit looks and how it feels to the touch and to the tongue. Then, it invites you to taste it with your whole body and awareness. Needless to say, in that process, you are unleashed on a feast for the senses, marrying your body, your sensuality, your deepest secrets and words.
In one of the chapters, Brandeis describes the tomato as a misunderstood fruit once considered poisonous, aphrodisiac, and still often mistaken by a vegetable. She then makes a comparison to artists, who are also often misunderstood, but who eventually, find appreciation for their fruitfulness. I love that analogy and decided to make my own version as an exercise. Okay. You can tell me later if I am tripping out ;)
The tomato got me thinking about simplicity and wholeness as well. I envy the tomato. It hardly needs anything to enhance its flavor. It's comfortable in its own skin. I wish I could handle myself as it does, in its tight and neatly packed complexity. I envy its boldness. How well it carries the color red without any inhibition. How it is well rounded. I want to have its effortless beauty. Be unassuming yet powerful, holding many layers and textures. I want to exuberate the same smooth glow on the outside and real coolness, on the inside. I want to claim my juiciness and all the creative seeds that are waiting to be discovered underneath my skin. I want to be just as simple and just as whole.
I believe we are one sweet and complete package, just like the tomato. Yet, we accumulate so much clutter and responsibility. We over complicate our lives and distance ourselves from our pure essence. When I travel, I always come to the conclusion that I really don't need that much to be happy. I become part of the world. I merge with it. I don't need a variety of outfits, belongings, etc. A suitcase with some essentials is more than enough. In that context, I'm like the tomato: a succulent fruit in balance with nature.
So why is it so hard for us to cultivate the tomato's easiness in our everyday life? Can we un-complicate our lives for the sake of being able to really know and reveal the uniqueness and truth of our flesh and soul?
(Thanks so much to Gayle Brandeis! Your book is more than delightful! It's pure pleasure and it's making a huge impact on my writing and in how I experience the world around me and in me! Absolutely delicious and inspiring!)
For more inspiration... Go here!
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