Yesterday, I took my daughter to a cafe in the evening for some one-on-one time. She had an M&M cookie, and I had an Americano.
We sat in the small cafe, which is also a bakery, right next to a cabinet of baked goods. Icing-covered cinnamon buns, passionfruit danishes, and cheese and bacon pastries were all within arms’ reach. The smell of fresh bread floated out from the kitchen.
The sight of it all made me feel warm inside. I could envision myself eating a cinnamon bun, pulling apart a chewy layer of bread, and tasting the cinnamon icing. I felt a longing to eat one, but I didn’t.
Right now I am not eating bread and a number of other things as I work with my stubborn stomach. I’ve made a decision about what I will and won’t eat, and I know that decision is the right decision.
So I sat and felt the temptation, knowing that I would resist it, knowing that it had no power over me. And that knowledge of my power over myself brought its own pleasure to my mind and body.
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