This morning I drove out toward the beach to deliver a lunch meal to the small monastery/nunnery of Aloka Vihara, a tiny community of nuns that resides and practices and teaches there. There is something so expansive about just plain offering. This practice of "dana" is of course a core teaching within the Buddha's repertoire, and one that I have taken to very easily. I prepared macaroni and cheese, and the rich smells of the warmed dish as I drove out there instantly made me happy, and once again I reflect on the effect that food, lovingly prepared, has on the heart and mind. One day I will stay and eat the meal with them, and partake of the experience to the fullest. I keep thinking I don't have the time, which is probably not true. It's just one of those fleeting thoughts that travels through the mind... I love their little house on 48th avenue, the perfume of incense, the softness of the entire environment, even the elephant photograph on the wall near the kitchen. Yes, one day I will remain there with them and enjoy just eating.
Speaking of eating, I had a soup the other night (Sunday) at Zuni that blew me away. I need to immortalize it here, or the experience will fade out from my memory. I was cold when I walked in the door, and I had the good sense to order soup. It was late and I was hungry. Cold and hungry -- what better remedy for that than a Zuni Cafe soup? It was called Kale and Garbanzo soup, made with a heavenly chicken stock (recipe for this in the Zuni book on p. 58 - not an easy or quick chore). When that soup reached my stomach I was instantly happy. I felt its warmth and richness immediately, and was thankful. Then I experienced that grasping kind of energy which looked like this: I want more of this soup - this one bowl won't be enough - how do I learn to make this soup? - maybe I should get some to go - will I ever be able to repeat this sublime eating experience? Yes, the grasping mind intoxicates itself. I got the basic information from the sweet young waiter, and went away happy, knowing that I would probably never make it, but that I just might teach myself to make the best chicken stock in the world. And of that I'd be most proud. This dinner was stupendous from start to finish, but the soup was what continued to linger in my consciousness. I have to wonder about the depth of my emotional response to food. Is this a helpful thing? I bet the nuns eating my macaroni and cheese weren't going into small ecstasies over it as I was Sunday with my soup!
Yesterday I stayed quiet again, doing small things to prepare for my epic family Christmas. Wrapping presents mindfully, and thinking about all of those who were coming. I love the way my house feels as it exudes the scent and character of Christmas. My lovely bushy fir tree keeps emitting this beautiful, comforting essence into the house, and the lights wink at me, classical music is playing, and the cat sits on my computer desk as though to say: don't forget about me! It's all very intimate and peaceful. That this peacefulness won't last is a given, but for right now I can relish it the way I slowly and methodically consumed my kale soup the other night.
Feeling just a tad nostalgic, I think I will journey over to my old neighborhood of North Beach to find some beautiful Italian ceramic mugs -- a present for my house and myself. And just maybe I'll stop in and have a little bite to eat at Rose Pistola. On a grey, brisk day, all of this makes sense. I'm going for more comfort, I can't deny it! AND, I know how fleeing it is too. Does it matter to keep going for it even when it fades faster than you want it to? I think this is today's question.
I feel very fortunate to be in this life right now, temporarily freed of fear and loathing.
No comments:
Post a Comment