The Silent Breakfast Club

A good friend has recently become an empty nester and is trying to eat all her meals in silence. No TV. No music. No books. (Not even spiritual books or magazines.) And she’s been really enjoying the practice. So she invited me to become a member of the “Silent Breakfast Club.” So far we are the only members, but the concept is to sit in our respective homes, at whatever time we deem to be appropriate and mindfully consume our breakfast. She speaks eloquently about employing all her senses; the heat of the ceramic mug of tea in her hands, the smell of the strawberries, or toast, the beautiful spring morning light.
I was hooked before she finished the description. Day 1 of my journey in the Silent Breakfast Club was not a failure, but hardly the miracle of mindfulness promoted. My actual response was:  “Well I’m going to have to do a few things like clean my windows, dust and get a clock for the kitchen that isn’t so damn loud.”  But I persevered the next day, moving to a different room that was possibly less dirty. The window facing the sun was smudged, but right outside a pair of birds was building a nest. It has been amazing to watch the construction. So I’m starting to feel like the silent breakfast, and mindful eating is good for me, and I’m getting good at it.
Blue the pony having lunch

 

At this time of year, when the grass is growing, but the paddock is mud, I tether our pony to the clothesline and let him enjoy the buffet that is our back lawn. So yesterday we lunched together, me with a salad, and him with the grass. I decided to extend my silent breakfast to lunch and while quietly eating my mind rambled: “That pony has barely come up for air. Look at him, his head is glued to the ground eating the grass as fast as he can.” Then I looked down and my plate was empty. I ate my entire lunch without tasting a bite while silently scolding a pony. Hunh. It’s my ego at work- thinking I’m getting “good” at mindful eating.
I love it when the universe whacks me with the realization that I am a messy mortal, a mindful novice, and I should stop judging and continue practicing.

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