‘Stick’ - A New Friend from the Woods Out Back
Have you ever really tasted a French fry? Gregge Tiffen
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for this food.
Thank you, body, for receiving this nourishment.
Thank you to all hands who toiled to bring it to this place.
Thank you to the soil.
Thank you to the water.
Thank you to the Sun.
Thank you to Mother Earth.
Thank you to the Source of All Life.
This morning as I sipped my Chinese herb formula and spoke my prayer of thanks, I experienced a deep sense of the vast networks that support me, support us all – those networks of Nature and those created by we humans. In that moment I was reminded once again of how interconnected we are. Of the Oneness that is.
A simple, sincere ‘thank you’ was the magic of this moment of peace, of presence to the moment. Not rushing. Not pushing. Not scrolling a screen. Setting aside thought about what was to be written this week. Allowing. A moment of peace.
This prayer of thanks recently evolved from thanking only the food and my physical body to include all that’s required of many and of Nature for it to be on my plate. The complexity of getting all these ingredients here is mind boggling if you give it just a bit of attention. And that’s what brought me to this moment of peaceful presence to Oneness with All that IS.
I’m experiencing peace more frequently at mealtimes these days. Setting aside scrolling, reading, or watching an informative YouTube video; at many meals I simply give thanks and eat. Chew. Taste. Watch thoughts come and let them go. Chew and taste again. Appreciating each bite.
The experience reminded of Gregge Tiffen’s French fry question years ago in a workshop. I understand the question more deeply now. How much joy and wonder do I miss from each of my senses by not being fully present in the moment to see, to smell, to feel, to taste, to hear? To know and sense beyond what can be known?
As I consider these questions, I’m reminded of a retreatant who lived here at the Dragonfly House for several months many years ago. Our paths crossed infrequently as we each lived our rhythms and she prepared meals at different times than I. She prepared her food and ate in silence each day. Mindfully, I would now say. Although I didn’t think much about it at the time, she was showing me a different way to be with a meal: fully present. Mindful. I’m certain gratitude was an ingredient in her mindful ways.
One of my most mindful times is when I’m building the morning fire in the woodstove, carefully attending to stacking the tinder and kindling just right for a quick, hot start. Recently, using kindling from the woods, I picked up a piece to add. It wasn’t just a straight stick, but one with many offshoots, and when I looked, I saw a friendly being joyfully walking. ‘Stick’ now graces the mantle by the stove.
If, as we have witnessed over the last many weeks, mindfulness can fuel the steps each day of two dozen Venerable Monks on their 2300 mile Walk for Peace facing obstacles all along the way, imagine what it can do for each of us. For the human collective. For Mother Earth and all her beings. For the cosmos that is our home.
As Arundhati Roy has said so beautifully, Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing. Let’s quiet our busy minds and be a part of breathing life into another world, one that is peaceful, just, thriving world for All Life. Together.
The Morning Fire