Sunday, March 11, 8:50 PM. Spring night, cool breeze, calm heart.
Unplugged a little bit this evening. Paid attention to what I was eating tonight, instead of the computer screen. It makes a big difference in the quality of the meal, I can tell you. There is something to this practice of mindfulness I have been ruminating on as of late.
Mindfulness. I paid attention to the grains of rice in my bowl, the flecks of parsley in the gumbo, the savor of shrimp on my tongue and between my teeth. Time slowed down. The house breathed around me.
As the spoon gathered up the last goodness in the bowl, uncovering the bottom of white porcelain flecked with green bits of herbs, I had a quiet revelation. In the here and now, I am humbly grateful for two things (not the only things, to be sure) in my life: good gumbo and deep love.
In the midst of the storms of my life, gumbo nourishes my body, and love...my friends, Love it is that nourishes my soul. Between the two of them, especially love, I believe I am going to be well fed in this life.
It's good, that's all there is to it.