Food is Renewal

Like a seed drawing nutrients from soil, our bodies rely on food for renewal. The foods we eat literally become part of us as our bodies break them down and use their components to rebuild cells, tissues, and energy reserves. When we become more conscious of this relationship, we can transform how we fuel ourselves.

“Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food,” Hippocrates famously observed. Modern research continues to validate this ancient wisdom, revealing how different foods can either deplete or renew our physical and mental wellbeing. From gut health impacting our mood to antioxidant-rich foods fighting cellular damage, what we eat directly influences our capacity for renewal.

This renewal extends beyond the physical. Many find that preparing meals mindfully – noticing textures, aromas, and flavors – renews their connection to the present moment, creating a form of moving meditation that nourishes the spirit alongside the body.

Preserving and protecting a vast array of seeds is crucial to maintain biodiversity and healthier ecosystems, which provide us with the most nutrient-dense, flavorful, and sustainable foods. Soil health and seed variety are the basic foundation required to grow the kind of food we want to enjoy! The lifecycle of a seed illustrates the interconnection of all natural systems that rely on renewal and regeneration.

Similarly, food renews our bonds with each other. Community gardens and neighborhood pea patches do more than grow vegetables – they cultivate relationships. When neighbors share tools, knowledge, and eventually harvests, they’re planting seeds of connection that strengthen our social fabric.

“Soils are the basis of life, ninety five percent of our food comes from the soil.” – Maria-Helena Semedo, former Deputy Director-General of the Food and Agriculture Organization

In Seattle’s Beacon Food Forest, for example, a once-vacant hillside now thrives as a food-producing permaculture project where community members work together to grow food anyone can harvest. Such spaces renew our sense of place and belonging, transforming neighborhoods through shared purpose.

Once the seed has found the right conditions, it needs to secure itself. The first root breaks through the seed, anchoring it and taking in water for the developing plant. The next stage in germination is the emergence of the embryonic shoot. The shoot pushes up through the soil, with the shoot leaves either poking above ground or rotting underneath.

Seeds function like ideas, like movements, like change. The seeds that eventually become the food we eat begin underground, anchor themselves, and begin to grow skyward. A movement begins in environments that nurture their growth, and eventually break free of the soil that kept them safe during their initial and most vulnerable stage.

This process mirrors how food justice initiatives take root in communities. Programs like school gardens do more than teach children about growing food; they plant seeds of knowledge that can transform food systems. When students learn to grow edibles for their school cafeterias, they’re renewing their relationship with food from passive consumers to active participants.

“Upon this handful of soil our survival depends” – Sanskrit text, 1500 BC

Once a shoot breaks through the topsoil, it becomes a seedling. Seedlings at this stage are at risk of disease and damage from animals or humans. Similarly, once an idea – say the movement for food justice – is exposed to the air, it can be susceptible to destructive forces. Tending to these early stages with intention and diligence is crucial for the development of a seedling or a movement that is robust and strong.

A tree becomes a sapling when it is over 3ft tall and has defining characteristics: flexible trunks, smoother bark than mature trees, and an inability to produce fruit or flowers. A tree in this stage is building to its promise, gathering its strength, and preparing to produce the fruit that nourishes us. The early stages of an idea, like a sapling, must be encouraged so that it can be established and create the resources needed to keep the movement alive.

This metaphor extends to our food systems themselves, which are ripe for renewal. Regenerative agriculture practices work with nature rather than against it, building soil health instead of depleting it. These approaches – like cover cropping, crop rotation, and reduced tillage – mirror nature’s own renewal processes.

Even more revolutionary are emerging technologies that use food and plants as tools for environmental healing. Mycologist Paul Stamets has pioneered “mycoremediation,” using mushrooms to clean contaminated soil and water. His research shows that certain fungi can break down toxic compounds, offering promising solutions for polluted lands. Meanwhile, seaweed farming is emerging as a powerful tool for ocean renewal, as kelp and other marine plants absorb carbon dioxide and nitrogen, helping combat both climate change and ocean acidification.

A tree becomes mature when it starts producing fruits or flowers. This is when the tree is at its most productive. These fruits are dispersed and the life cycle repeats, but that’s not the end of a tree’s journey.

We usually access our food long after the seed’s first brave growth underground. Fruits and vegetables are harvested and consumed to nourish the bodies of humans and animals alike. Though this stage is arguably the most significant for our purposes, the final stage of tree growth is the most important in setting the stage for the next round of renewal. A mature movement for social change is always working to create the conditions for the next generation of movement makers. Ideas and strategies are recycled, improved upon, and used to enrich the effectiveness of the change.

This wisdom is reflected in Indigenous food practices that have sustained communities for generations. Many Native American tribes practiced sustainable harvesting and cultivation techniques that ensured abundance for future generations [Northwest Harvest wrote about regenerative agriculture in a 2022 newsletter to our community]. As Robin Wall Kimmerer writes, “In some Native languages the term for plants translates to ‘those who take care of us.'” This reciprocal relationship – caring for plants that care for us – embodies food’s power to renew across generations.

A snag is a tree in the final stages of its life. It can be a dead standing tree or a dying tree. The tree’s life might be at an end, but its usefulness to wildlife is about to peak:

• Dead wood provides specialist homes for insects as well as fungi.
• Those insects are a food source for birds, bats and other small mammals.
• These creatures take advantage of hollows or holes in the tree for shelter.
• In turn, these smaller residents are food for larger mammals and birds of prey.

Dead and decaying trees are a vital part of maintaining biodiversity. Composted food and other organic materials can be integrated into the soil to increase its generative properties for the next iteration of seeds. To build and cultivate a resilient food system for decades to come, we must tend to every stage of plant birth, growth, decay, and rebirth.

When we compost food scraps instead of sending them to landfills, we complete the cycle of renewal, returning nutrients to the soil. Community composting initiatives in urban areas are transforming “waste” into valuable resources, renewing our relationship with food from a linear consumption model to a circular one.

The social renewal of our food systems sometimes requires letting go of outdated approaches that no longer serve us – like the snag that falls to make way for new growth. As communities reassess their relationships with industrialized food systems, they’re creating space for more just, sustainable alternatives to emerge.