There are some people who eat an orange but don't really eat it. They eat their sorrow, fear, anger, past, and future... When you are truly here, contemplating the orange, breathing and smiling, the orange becomes a miracle... smell it, take a section, and put it in your mouth mindfully, fully aware of the juice on your tongue. Thich Nhat Hanh, "Mindful Eating."
Years ago some of my friends went to a week-long retreat at Plum Village. In preparation, they were asked to read Thich Nhat Hanh's book, Peace Is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life. Unable to go on the trip myself, I decided to read sections of the book each day and follow suggestions for mindfulness practices. When I reached the essays on mindful eating, a miracle did occur--a soaring insight that had eluded me for many years. Most of my life, actually.
Mine is a family of fast eaters. Without really understanding the source of such speed, most meals seemed a necessary fuel stop before moving on to something else. Yes, there have always been foods I especially enjoy, but even much-craved chocolate would be savored for only a moment. More often than not I'd be reading a book or catching up on email while inhaling lunch.
Not coincidentally, my most dependable life-long stress response has been some form of indigestion: stomach aches as a child, an ulcer while in the clutches of corporate America and, in more recent years, acid reflux. I rationalized I was not alone, knowing a third of Americans suffer from indigestion in various forms and many, if not most, of my friends also relied on Zantac or Prilosec. While I was taking qigong classes I no longer had acid reflux, but still had attacks of indigestion during periods of unusual stress. I'd lost hope that I could completely heal this pattern.
This is still an issue, heightened by medication for an autoimmune disease that tends to cause stomach problems. But when I remember to eat mindfully, quietly reviewing this Lao Tzu quotation, I breathe deeply before picking up a utensil, chew slowly and savor the texture and taste of my food.
When I do this, my senses and spirits soar, The first time, though, an old pattern revealed itself. As the food moved down my esophagus I felt my stomach clutch, which completely surprised me. I was able to relax again with a deep breath, but each time I swallowed, the pattern would repeat itself. It took several days over several meals for my stomach to start relaxing instead of tightening up in anticipation. As I relaxed, I remembered how stressful meals were for me when I was growing up. We were to sit upright, eat quietly (no talking or laughing) and to politely excuse ourselves when finished. I learned to eat fast while holding myself tense.
If we were lucky as infants, we felt warm skin next to us and heard soothing sounds when we received our first taste of milk and experienced satisfaction for the first time. So it makes sense that our eating patterns would symbolize either peace or anxiety, love or rejection, and thus carry a significant piece of the motivations driving us.
The first step to changing any upsetting pattern is through mindful observation. Why not start with how you eat? You might find, as I have, that significant memories surface, anxieties associated with eating begin to ease, and you spontaneously slow down at other times, as well, all your senses alert, with joy around every corner.
Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving until the right action arises by itself?
Not coincidentally, my most dependable life-long stress response has been some form of indigestion: stomach aches as a child, an ulcer while in the clutches of corporate America and, in more recent years, acid reflux. I rationalized I was not alone, knowing a third of Americans suffer from indigestion in various forms and many, if not most, of my friends also relied on Zantac or Prilosec. While I was taking qigong classes I no longer had acid reflux, but still had attacks of indigestion during periods of unusual stress. I'd lost hope that I could completely heal this pattern.
This is still an issue, heightened by medication for an autoimmune disease that tends to cause stomach problems. But when I remember to eat mindfully, quietly reviewing this Lao Tzu quotation, I breathe deeply before picking up a utensil, chew slowly and savor the texture and taste of my food.
If we were lucky as infants, we felt warm skin next to us and heard soothing sounds when we received our first taste of milk and experienced satisfaction for the first time. So it makes sense that our eating patterns would symbolize either peace or anxiety, love or rejection, and thus carry a significant piece of the motivations driving us.
The first step to changing any upsetting pattern is through mindful observation. Why not start with how you eat? You might find, as I have, that significant memories surface, anxieties associated with eating begin to ease, and you spontaneously slow down at other times, as well, all your senses alert, with joy around every corner.
Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving until the right action arises by itself?
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