And so it begins.

Hi, my name is Caitlin, and I love blogs.

I have about 15 or 20 that I read on a regular basis -- some are light, some are profound; some are political, some personal. I love these blogs because I love the connective power of writing. Writing, I believe, is among the most intimate of human activities. When we write we can speak our truest voice -- in putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, we translate the secret and inimitable symbols of our being into shared language, so that others can glimpse our unique inner terrain. Writing is a way for us to show others what this teeming profusion of life on earth looks like from where we stand.

(Poets know, too, that writing fans the flames of love and revolution.)

And so I read the words of others to understand more about this world, about what it is to be alive and embodied and thinking and feeling and learning. I read to gain knowledge, to be inspired, to be challenged, to see farther. It delights me, to read someone else's words and think, "wow, I've never looked at ____________ like that before!" Fill in the blank with anything, really: life, relationships, music, politics, education, travel, food.

Ah, food. The food blogs! If you've not yet toured the universe of online diaries dedicated to all things culinary, let me assure you it is an infinite one. There are blogs about food and cooking in general, about specific types of cuisine, about the use of particular ingredients, and about health-related dietary restrictions. A member of the latter category is one of my most favorite blogs, although the word "restriction" isn't exactly what comes to mind upon reading this woman's tales of abundant joy, love and flavor.

No, Shauna Ahern's Gluten-Free Girl is a paean to the overflowing deliciousness of existence. She discovered that she has celiac disease in 2005, and since that discovery her life has undergone an utter transformation -- as soon as she removed gluten from her diet, she gained a level of health and vitality previously unbeknownst to her. Since that pivotal moment, she has gone on to write a book (which I am about to read), connect with the love of her life, and continue to help and inspire thousands of people to find their own equilibrium through food.

I love reading Shauna, because Shauna loves. She adores the taste of food, and describes her culinary adventures with mouth-watering specificity. With her words, she brings each bite to life, conjuring up so vividly the mosaic of sensate delights which makes up her days. She also adores her husband Danny, "The Chef" -- the openness of their hearts, the freedom with which they utterly relish one another, the clarity of their twin souls together, is breathtaking. She adores her community, her craft, her world, her life, and that love is woven through every essay she composes and is evident in every photograph she takes. Shauna, to put it in a nutshell, says YES, and her blog has inspired me greatly.

Through Shauna's blog I've started reading other food blogs (I've even reconnected with a friend-of-a-friend from college, Orangette, who's become a renowned food blogger and a soon-to-be published author!). It's a fascinating and multi-hued world, and I feel like I'm on an odyssey of discovery. A whole world of people out there, whose days and nights are dedicated to the enjoyment of food, of life, of each other, and the recording and sharing of that enjoyment!

And so I come to the purpose, the reason for being, of this nascent blog.

For me, food has been a source of some angst throughout most of my life. My lineage is hardy, of the meat-and-potatoes ilk: Russian-Jewish, Polish, Irish . . . none of whom are particularly known for their willowy figures. So while I am a strong, healthy woman, there has always been the sense that I have some pounds to lose, especially growing up in image-conscious Los Angeles. I also have congenital health issues, the management of which would be much simpler without the physical complications of excess weight.

Suffice it to say, food often feels like the enemy. Something to be restricted and carefully apportioned; something that ought to be low in fat, low in cholesterol, low in sugar, low in carbohydrates. The "right" food ought to make one thin, and the "wrong" food can catalyze catastrophe. Food is, in a word, problematic.

As you can imagine, since I am human, I am wont to crash through the meticulous parameters I create for myself around food. I indulge in all of the most oft-denied victuals when that righteous path becomes impossible. A day's worth of eating can trace a wild oscillation between buttoned-up control and utter disregard for any semblance of guidelines.

And enjoyment? Forget about enjoyment. Food is either bitter medicine, choked down for my own good, or fleeting, forbidden pleasure crammed in hastily and without mindful sensory experience. I sneak behind my own back.

Yet there have always been moments of savoring, of sensory delight, of true satisfaction. I was fortunate enough to travel to South Africa with my parents in 2001, and we visited an organic farm where lunch was composed from the produce grown on the premises. I remember sitting in the grass with my father, astounded at the flavors so vivid they were almost like colors in my mouth.

In 2003 I lived on a small organic farm in Arizona, and joyfully began each day by climbing the grapefruit tree to retrieve my breakfast. I remember sitting on a sun-warmed, handcrafted wooden bench with my fellow farmers, savoring the tart sweetness of each grapefruit wedge covered in soft pith.

Throughout law school, friends and I sampled the best that the East Bay's thriving restaurant scene has to offer: warm, fluffy naan dipped in spicy curry at Breads of India; spongy, savory fingerfuls of teff injera and chickpeas at Cafe Colucci; the high artistry of seasonal fare at Chez Panisse; the rustic, dramatic flavors of Wood Tavern; and of course the utterly vitalizing raw creations at Cafe Gratitude. Not to mention the loving handiwork of those self-same friends, two of whom run a highly successful organic catering company and soon-to-be restaurant, and one of whom is a personal chef and cooking teacher. Many a time I've tasted with amazement the hearty, aromatic stews that my skilled friends prepare, seemingly from thin air, on camping trips into the wilderness.

I've been on a journey for the past five or six years, one of literally coming to my senses. Emerging from the safe confines of my mind to explore the world of feeling, of movement, of play. It hasn't always been easy; in fact, it's been astoundingly challenging throughout, but it is no less than the journey of a lifetime: arriving home in my body. There is so very much abundance in my life: so much love, so much possibility, so much richness. After years of pained resistance, I am waking to see and savor the life that is my own.

And I've realized, more and more, that learning how to enjoy delicious, healthy food is utterly central to this beautiful, surprising voyage of mine. Coming to know the hunger and satiation signals of my body, and responding to those signals with love and attention by providing myself with wonderful and nutritious food, are very important keys that unlock the door of presence.

Not to mention, as I am discovering, that food is fun! Food words are exotic, particular, sonorous. Buying food from farmer's markets is an exercise in imagination and visual stimulation -- oooh, look at this! I wonder what I could do with that? And playing with flavors, discovering which combinations of ingredients and seasonings fall flat, and which ones light fireworks of joy in my mouth, is like learning a new and endlessly engaging art form.

So I've been paying attention to my food, more and more -- letting my mind play with possibilities, branching out, and spending much more time in the kitchen. And the beautiful food blogs that I've discovered have awakened in me the long-dormant twin loves of writing and photography, which used to be so much a part of the fabric of my life but which have given way in recent years to the constraints of time.

And so I find myself here, beginning a new blog. It is a food blog, of sorts, but just as food is a gateway into pleasure, mindfulness, and healing, this blog is also a blog about my journey into the present moment. The road home to here and now is a lush and living road; while it's possible to fall in a pothole, I also find the ground rising up to meet my feet, the wind at my back, the sun warming my face and the moon illuminating my way through the dark. I invite you to join me on this journey, to share some of my experiences as I learn about coming alive in my life, to say yes to your own life as I am practicing saying yes to mine.

In the meantime, thank you for reading my inaugural post. I hope you'll be back for seconds.