I believe in orange juice. Not for its purported health benefits. Not for calcium or vitamin C. Not even for its amazing ability to revive me after blood tests.
I believe in orange juice for its beautiful, sunny color. The cool liquid bathing my tongue. The tingling of the taste buds on the tip of it. They way it feels as it streams down my throat. The chilly sensation in my belly. I had forgotten how much I loved it. I was younger, I drank it every morning with breakfast. Perhaps I had not truly forgotten. My mind persuaded my tongue that it did not care for it, that orange juice was revolting and should always be avoided.
My mind has controlled me for a while now. I am the epitome of mind over matter, I suppose. Orange juice was one of the many things I have lost. I alienated my friends. Logic helps none in social situations. The mind cannot experience emotion. The mind does not laugh or cry but rationalizes the feelings behind these actions, and, reduces to practically nothing, the feelings cower in the nether regions of the brain. The mind must calculate and formulate and think and ponder and, by the time it has given me something to say, the opportunity to say it has passed. My body weakened for my mind dissuaded me from eating. Orange juice was no longer the sunny liquid on hot summer mornings; it was the piss of the devil. Too much sugar, too many calories, to be beneficial to one’s health. I latched onto studies of the benefits and ill effects of nearly every food. My body did not feel hunger because my mind was satiated. My spirit, grown tired of being ignored, abandoned me. I was a mere shadow, less than a ghost.
Last night, I drank orange juice, of my own accord, for the first time in years. And, for the first time in years, I actually enjoyed it. My body was satisfied, my mind was quiet.
I do not believe in orange juice for its taste alone. I believe in listening to my body. I believe in finding a healthy balance of mind, body, and soul.
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