(butternut squash)
(licorice assortments)Hello sugar crash--
I know I'm supposed to be sitting with my desires. But I guess that's why they call for "practice, practice, and never-ending practice." Cause tonight I went just a little overboard... And I'm regretting it.
Imagine the Joy in one delicious spoonful of my creamy butternut squash. Imagine how long that warmth, that sweetness would last me.
But a bowl full, then a handful of licorice, and then, I admit, some of Bill's leftover cocoa b-day cake with chocolate morsels and strawberries on top.
After all of that, I'm feeling empty again, my gears screeched to a halt, and overflowing.
But--
With just this breath I begin again (over and over and over again).
Opening my lips to this glass of water, or to this cup of hot tea, like baptismal waters, their cleansing waters flow. And I know now --not Joy, not yet-- but emptiness. I know emptiness and I know hunger, sitting here, my desires washing (wave upon wave upon wave) through me.
3 comments:
Why do we do this mixing of flavors, this craving for sweets, for sugar, for --- yikes why do we do it? (because it feels so good going down:)?
We do not eat for the good of living, but because the meat is savory and the appetite is keen. ~Emerson
The squash certainly keens my appetite!
Thanks for the comment Greenman. I'll be sure to supply us with some butternut squash soon...
Sunrise Sister,
I remember reading somewhere that a well lived life is to 'eat when you're hungry, and to sleep when you're tired' (something like that) and it stuck with me because it seems so simple, and easy, and yet... it's not.
Terry Tempest Williams writes of what she calls the "unspoken hunger" which is, in her words, "our desire, our yearning, our longing to connect with some place, some one, some thing other, outside, beyond ourselves." Always searching for our Beloved, so to speak, longing to be with God. And it's hard, for me, to sit with that separation without attempting to fill that space, the loneliness of being human -or the other side of communion, whatever best expresses that- with something else, in the end, only isolating myself further... Because there's something there, in that emptiness, something sacred to me. So I practice, gently reminding myself to remember and return again and again and again...
I'm reminded here of your post several days ago about the times you're unable, or find it difficult to pray. You mentioned someone else standing in, maintaining that connection, until you could return.
Did I understand that right? I was slightly confused and wanted to think on it before responding. But I think perhaps it's always there, it's just a matter of showing up, even after, or in the midst of, a gluttonous (sp?) meal or a "busied," inattentive day... Even when it feels like there's nothing there. Just showing up, and sitting with the lack, the discomfort, the desire, trusting that Joy is just on the other side...
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