Eating better

Yesterday, I went to a potluck (food) for the organization Freedom to Choose, a non-profit that brings workshops that help people in prison understand themselves better and make better choices.

Words fail to explain how meaningful this organization has been to my life and others.
I started the listening table during the pandemic when I was no longer able to go to their workshops. Because I thought this work is so good, how is it only in prison?

So I started my table. Doing what they did in prison, outside.

I brought fifteen chicken wings to the potluck.

There was a ton of food there. Many others brought chicken. Lots of chips. Salsa. Lots of cookies. Someone made pink rice crispy treats.

I had a bunch of chicken, some chips and salsa, lots of water, and some watermelon.

I spoke with David Paul, psychologist and co-founder of the project, about the last four years we hadn’t been in touch. During the pandemic, they went postal, using mail worksheets to service the participants in prison, and had expanded to being in every prison in California. Not through advertising, but word of mouth.

When a participant would transfer to another prison, they would request the Freedom to Choose program. And it kept catching on.

David told me how several participants in the project found their paroles shortened by years because of the changes the prison board saw in them. It’s that good.

During our conversation, David mentioned something matter of fact that stuck with me.

“The definition of learning is making a change in behavior that comes from experience.”

Although the conversation was about people changing their lives because they learned how to listen better (which is on topic for me) what struck me was applying this concept to food.

I haven’t changed how I eat because I haven’t learned.

To be fair, I have changed many things about how I eat.
I don’t eat Oreos anymore, for example.
I decided that in February thanks to a Joe Dispenza recording.

Then I marched into Pavilions and loudly announced to the Oreo section that I was done with it.

I mostly avoid junk food.
Still, there’s a compulsory behavior.
In our chat, I stepped to the potluck table frequently to dip chips in salsa.

I appreciated the cookie table from afar. Thinking about learning.
If I learn, I change my behavior.

Yesterday was a food win for me.

I also had a long conversation with a 94-year-old woman—a 20-year freedom to choose volunteer—who shined with such a warm and nearly blinding light. But that will be a story for tomorrow.

Thanks for reading, and thank you to all who responded to yesterday’s letter.
Orly