53. Foxtrot Belly

Hello, Welcome. I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode; click on continue reading to open a Google Doc with the complete transcription. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, follow, subscribe, and share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. Drop a comment with your answers to today’s questions! I love hearing from you! The background music is called Calisson by Blue Dot.

What kind of food would you want for your last meal? What kind of question is that? Some cruel and unusual game, aimed at putting you in the worst possible mood because it implies you won't have another. Thank you, by the way. My 3 am self salutes the person who asked me this. 

The many ways to feel the fire in the belly include actually putting irritating food in there. Spicy or fried or both. But we mustn't be literal, as we seldom are in the Musingverse.  

For those of us who celebrate January 31st as the last day of the year, we might experience a diminished version of this feeling. The last meal of 2024 is just a night away. Some traditions call for foods that symbolize or attract abundance, like lentils. To me, that is a healthy option, especially if you are having a late dinner. Others might stay away from the symbolism and have a downright feast. Perhaps the last feast before the festivals in a few months, the first to come next year. 

My younger self partied. The meal was irrelevant. The drink was circumstantial. The music was everything. And I had traditions with people I loved (and still love). It was a sort of conjuring of the good vibration. A summoning of love and good fortune. It never occurred to me to think of money. Just a beam of love. Like a carebear. I would forget that I am human and need to make money, pay rent, bills, medicine and insurance policies. Just love. 

Maybe if I had see Wolf Of Wallstreet my efforts would have been oriented to more lucrative endeavors. Would my family and friends have gone along with the festivities? I don't think so. Hangovers get worse as years progress. Singing and dancing for a few hours might leave you tired, hoarse, and full of endorphins. And circumstantially hungover. This is how I would concentrate a different type of fire in my belly. A meditation in movement and sound to harness motivation or maybe to prove that I can. Who is adverse to a little show of power? Especially if it is for a greater good? Outside the walls of myself. Continue reading