I've been in bed all day. About an hour ago, I dragged myself into the kitchen, shuffling about in my pajamas and flannel bathrobe, the cats watching me with little quizzical tilts of the head. I'm in the grip of a horrid flu. It's my second cold in a month, but this one is far worse than the first one. I hadn't had anything to eat all day except for a cup of miso soup, and I suddenly had a craving for toast and jam. I hardly ever eat jam. I remembered today that I only tend to crave it when I am sick.
Lately, I have been reading about the
my sacred life project on a few blogs. The idea is to photograph something sacred each day for a month, whatever is sacred to you. The idea is to connect you with sacredness in every day life. I really liked this idea and wanted to do it. Then I began to think about what these things might be and what makes them sacred and I realised that the thing that makes something sacred is something that I cannot photograph. And that is a certain state of mind, a state of awareness, mindfulness.
I have been interested in zen buddhism for a long time, but have never had a regular meditation practise. Then I realised that what I thought meditation had to be (sitting still on a cushion and stilling the mind) is only one way of meditating. There is also walking meditation, there is yoga, you can meditate while lying down, washing the dishes, cooking dinner, having a shower. It all depends on your state of mind.
Recently, I came across some writings by Jon Kabat-Zinn who defines mindfulness as paying attention in a particular way; being awake, on purpose, in the present moment and non-judgementally. The non-judgemental bit is the key thing for me.
Practising mindfulness therefore, is like switching on your ability to truly appreciate the every day moments of your life, the ability to enjoy the simple pleasures that might otherwise just be thought of as dull and boring habits. And so this is what I am going to write about, these mindful moments, these simple pleasures. Things like eating brown toast with strawberry jam and a bowl of peas with butter.
After I had my toast, I had a sudden and intense craving for peas. I watched them as they boiled in the pan. Did you ever notice how they start off at the bottom, and then, as the water heats up, each pea bobs to the surface in its own time. And then, when they are ready, they release a subtle smell of "green". Being ill does force you to slow down. All your movements feel pronounced, some senses are dulled but others are heightened.
I ate the peas with a dollop of sunflower butter and a dash of salt. A bowl of steaming peas never tasted so good.
