On Ash Wednesday, we ate our meal(s) in silence at the
monastery. As a result, I was much more attentive to the taste, texture, and
amount of the food I ate than usual. As the poet Jane Hirshfield says,
“Attention alters what it touches.” The food itself wasn’t altered, but my
appreciation for it was.
Several years ago I attended a course on mindful eating. I
remember an exercise in which we spent about two minutes eating a single potato
chip. Eating the chip that slowly and attentively made me realize how greasy
and unappetizing it was…and yet, how many times have I mindlessly devoured half
a bag of such chips in a single sitting?
I also recall a story of an immigrant who had come to the
United States from a country where she and her family experienced great
deprivation. The first time she was taken to a grocery store, she burst into
tears because of the bounty spread out before her. I can’t remember the last
time I marveled at all the fresh produce and well-stocked shelves at my local
grocery store.
Eating is such an integral, repetitive part of life that
it’s difficult to do it mindfully. However, eating slowly and in silence, and
fasting from certain foods now and then, are tools that can awaken our
senses…including our sense of gratitude.
No comments:
Post a Comment