another fruit salad

14/03/2016

I’ve just finished preparing and eating a fruit salad. I had cut the fruit into sizeable chunks, so that I could taste one piece at a time. As I ate, I was reminded of an analogy made by a Buddhist meditation teacher.

In Buddhism, thinking is regarded as a sixth sense, along with the usual five: tasting, touching, smelling, hearing and seeing. Our awareness moves between these senses, resting on one at a time. For most of us, thinking tends to capture our attention much more than the others. The teacher I referred to compared the mind to the process of eating a fruit salad which is dominated by one particular fruit. In my case, I had cut rather a lot of papaya, which was accompanied by segments of an orange, a sliced banana and some grapes. So I would have a brief taste of banana, say, then several chunks of papaya; then a grape and more papaya; and so on. This is how our mind tends to move: a brief awareness of what we are seeing, say, then we are thinking about it; a brief awareness of hearing, then back to thinking again.

Unfortunately, my papaya was disappointing, being rather tasteless. This made me smile, as so many of our thoughts are also rather tasteless. Perhaps we should spend less time thinking and more time with our awareness on our other fruity senses, which are so much more juicy and tasty!

washing the outer or the inner

12/03/2016

The other day, I was hand washing some clothes here in India. I noticed that with many of the clothes, I was more concerned that the inside of the items should be clean and less concerned about the outside. This seemed to me to reflect an attitude about myself.

Do we emphasise our outer image, how we present ourselves to other people? Or do we give priority to our inner state? Do we merely wash our exterior, superficial layer of skin? Or do we take the time to clean our inner world – our beliefs, prejudices and emotional spaces?

moment of poise

08/03/2016

A little while ago I was sitting with a friend. Something was troubling her and her agitation showed: in the tension in her body; in the slightly rigid way it was moving; in her voice; in her face. Everything was rather angular, there was no smoothness.

Then, midway through a sentence, she paused. And for a few seconds there was pure poise. Her body and face relaxed; her movements became flowing and graceful.

Even though that moment of poise was rather fleeting, it showed, vividly, how our mental state affects our whole body, our whole being. When we are agitated, we are suffering in mind and body. Let us hope we have more and more moments of poise. For in that moment, my friend exuded the gracefulness and peace of a buddha.

moment of distraction

06/03/2016

I was pouring some tea. During this most sacred of rituals, a drop of milk was spilt. It landed on the rim of the silver tea strainer: a tiny droplet of white, sitting hugging itself, looking rather perplexed.

This accident was a sure sign that I had been distracted. For the briefest of moments, my attention had been elsewhere. I know not where my mind had wandered. All I know is that in that moment, I had not been present.

A misplaced droplet of milk is not the greatest of catastrophes. Yet how much of life do we mess up in this way? How many moments, every day, do we lose our presence? And what untold tragedies, great and small, follow from these moments of distraction?

close shave

28/02/2016

Yesterday, in an obscure alleyway somewhere in the chaos of Delhi, I visited a barber shop for a shave. As usual in India, the barber did an amazing job and I emerged with my face feeling smooth as silk. It was, indeed, a close shave.

It occurred to me that this phrase, ‘a close shave,’ is rather curious. It has come to mean a narrowly-avoided disaster, with the only positive aspect being that the disaster didn’t happen. In reality, though, a close shave is much more than that. Yes, it feels rather risky, as that traditional cut-throat razor blade glides over the jugular veins and the larynx. Assuming disaster is avoided though, the result of the close shave is much more positive than merely having avoided an early demise. That smooth skin is a rejuvenation and a return to innocence.

So many moments in life are like visiting the barber, if we are prepared to take a risk. It is easy to avoid a close shave and let an opportunity pass. Those missed opportunities are liable to linger on in us as regret, though. Conversely, when we do take the risk, we usually end up feeling as revitalised as I did yesterday, with that close shave.

fruit salad

10/01/2016

This morning I ate a fruit salad as part of my breakfast. There were eight or nine different types of fruit, all in a prime state of ripeness. As I ate, I noticed that I was ranking the fruit: comparing the pleasure given by one against another; deciding which was my favourite and which my least favourite. It was not long before the complete order of preference had been determined.

Catching myself making these comparisons, judging the relative merits of the various fruits, I felt a twinge of regret. Inevitably there were winners and losers in my assessment. But I also knew that each of the fruits was probably delicious in its own right. So I stopped comparing. I ate one piece of fruit at a time, slowly, with my full attention, not comparing it to my memories of other tastes. And as I had guessed, every piece of fruit was simply delicious, a treasure for my taste buds.

I wonder to what extent I make such comparisons in the rest of my life. How much richer and more delicious life would feel if I could drop the comparisons altogether!