Monday, May 30, 2011

Farmer's Markets-God's Apothecary

Senior Life- God’s Private Garden
June 2011

“And God, not Monsanto said, let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself upon earth: and it was so. And the earth brought forth grass and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind: and God, not bioengineers, saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1:11-12)

It’s an old fashion, newfangled concept: the freshest, seasonal local fruits and vegetables, raw honey, artisan cheese, wines, brews, breads, clean grass-fed meats, and bug-fed chickens straight from family farms to the kitchen. I adore going to farmers markets; lively social centers where I always run into smiling friends and bask in the warm glow of community. These outdoor markets keep me grounded to the earthy roots of nutrition where fresh food fare is vastly more significant to a senior’s health than the eventuality of a geriatric doctor.
Thirty years ago eating local was a radical notion, but times are a  ‘changin’.  Farmer’s Markets provide sanctuary from proliferating genetically modified grocery versions of Gods creations. Anyone who sees this biotech time bomb with spiritual eyes will recognize that genetically modified plants and animals are not about improving quality or providing healthful alternatives to the world. They’re playing God and polluting His creations. God’s law doesn’t sanction genetic alteration even though bioengineers proudly market altered organisms as something helpful to humans.  The author of all life is God who created every species to reproduce after its own kind. Thus, there’s no reason for man to modify DNA and cross transplant genes from one entity into another. In false hubris, man creates species God never intended to exist. Such alteration of species violates God’s natural order. Do I hear amen! 

Community Farmer’s Markets solve the growing problem of food access and the plight of family farmers. Farmer’s Markets remind us fresh wholesome food grown without contains maximum heavenly nutrition that sustains body and soul. As you know, to remain mentally and physically sturdy, our manufacturer expects us to eat balanced meals containing complex carbs, clean plant and animal protein, fruit and vegetables, nuts, seeds, healthy fats, and an occasional goodie as a reward for being a good steward of His creation. Nevertheless, we’ve departed from the road of nutritional righteousness, settling for what’s set before us as long as it’s effortless, looks and tastes familiar.

Our grandparents didn’t eat from the golden arches,  smoked non-filter Camels, drank hard liquor, decanted clouds of heavy cream into their Folgers, ate globs of butter and bacon fat, and dinner was either chunks-o-beef, pork, chicken or fish. They did not however, use poisonous chemicals and growth hormones and sure, some of the crap they ate was gross, but our grandparents knew the importance of fresh balanced meals and taking care of themselves in a much less neurotic, self-interested way.  
What’s right is often forgotten by what is convenient. In a haze of suitability, Americans have resorted to buying Del Monte and Dole plastic fruit salad cups shipped from China. Oh, the agony of inconvenience!
Happily, Americans are transcending this mind-set and increasing their intake of fresh local produce and backing off on meat and taters three times a day, and whole grains are replacing potatoes. Folks are returning to the simple preindustrial revolution lifestyle of their forefathers; foraging for fresh food from local farms. If great-grandfather wouldn’t have recognized it as food, then it’s not fit for consumption. So don’t eat anything that comes in a box, tube, or bag.  

Breaking pre-industrial revolution tradition has proved catastrophic to the collective health of a great nation.  The backbone of America, the Family Farm has all but been destroyed by Big Food and ‘Monsatan’.  Let us all return to the ‘Farm-acy’ and dance till the music stops.

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