Dear Diary,
Sometimes what makes something ‘click’ is humble rather than grand. In my previous piece, I discussed how scarcity is often manufactured and is not itself a symbol of desirability. I was recently presented with a fresh loaf of olive bread straight from the oven. If anything shouldn’t be scarce, it is bread! This olive loaf reminded me of the difference between real food and the garbage we find on store shelves and in some restaurants. This bread had all of five (or so) ingredients and was absolutely amazing. It was fragrant, tasty, and that wonderful kind of spongy – it bounced back when you pressed on it, and it was the best kind of satisfying. I felt good eating it, and afterward I felt good all day, rather than hungry a short time later or bloated immediately after.
I have always had a fondness for fresh bread and also for olives. While my memory often has tragically significant gaps, I can’t recall ever enjoying both of these things so much in a single format like this before. It was a simple yet revolutionary concept, extending far beyond a culinary revelation. The olive bread ultimately got me thinking about the trappings of spiritual practices. For example, the idea of Mindful Eating, wherein we slow down to appreciate the origins of the ingredients and the labor of everyone involved in bringing the food to our plate, and we try to chew more so we can savor each bite, et al. There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of that, but if people take it to extremes, feeling compelled to perform such a ritual at every meal, we’ve stripped the exercise of its purpose and replaced it with something else. We end up ‘going through the motions’ out of a sense of obligation; it becomes performative instead of a genuine spiritual practice.
Enlightenment cannot be attained through performative acts, much as other faiths regard the afterlife and artificial faith. When we strip away the ceremony, what is left? In my ‘2025 : A Year of Compassion in Review’ piece, I briefly mentioned the Zen practice of ‘Ordinary Mind,’ and I feel it bears repeating here. Our minds already have the tools they need, even if we need to return our thoughts to the path regularly (Mindfulness) or find a way to reduce the abstract into something we can grasp until we’re ready to release the incomplete back into the abstract. George Carlin gave us a quote I find increasingly relevant over time: “We think in language. The quality of our thoughts and ideas can only be as good as the quality of our language.” Sometimes we need to put things in language to process before we can let them go from the limitations of language.
We create problems where none exist. Our minds often know what to do; we just need to stop interfering with them. I used to think having music playing almost constantly while I write or do chores limited my ability to be present with the activity. I’ve since realized by singing and dancing on autopilot, or taking micro-breaks when something about the music caught my conscious attention, I was diverting the active part of my mind just enough to cease interfering – to stop overthinking. When I write (this piece included), the words flow onto the page with no internal monologue (*1); I understand the overall feel I want to convey, then I let myself get lost in the right direction, knowing I’ll find (develop) the right place in the end. What I lack in words floating around my mind, I make up for with strong emotions and a lack of fear, making decisions.
It is liberating to look at ourselves in the mirror, knowing we already have the tools; we merely need to get out of our way. For me, music helps me strip away the excess thoughts – the idle mental chatter that is little more than the same words (or close variants thereof) recycled repeatedly. Others may focus better in silence. I’ve encountered people who focus better with scented candles, and I know some who perform better wearing certain clothes over others. The idea is the same: to listen effectively when our minds speak to us with clarity. Our minds tell us when it is time to eat, for example, and yet so often we talk back: ‘No, I’m going to keep working, and I’ll get to food later,’ and then wonder why we get tired or irritable. Even the long-term yearnings that remain after all else has changed, that goal or dream that has been floating around for what feels like forever, could be a distant lighthouse in a stormy night, offering quiet guidance amongst a turbulent backdrop.
The olive bread wasn’t just a delicious meal that kept me satisfied for most of the day. It was a tangible metaphor, a reminder to strip away the excess of ceremony and ensure whatever practices I’m engaged in, I’m doing so authentically, with no unnecessary layers between me and my objective. In the case of Mindfulness and Meditation, the ‘unnecessary layers’ are often ones we place upon ourselves. However, when I think of things like churches, corporations, and government, I feel sad regarding all the ‘unnecessary layers’ others impose upon us—a problem for another piece.
Listen To Yourself; You Are Worth It!
reBLUEvinate!
(*1) Another combat consequence is all the things interfering with my short and long-term memory capabilities also interfere with my internal ‘voices.’ I don’t typically mind, as it has taught me to quiet myself, listen, and be ready to receive the answer. If I know the answer, it will materialize; if I don’t, it won’t. However, when I have that anxious pressure in my solar plexus, it can be hard to discharge. I think softly but feel strongly. Win some, lose some.
(*1b) If I consciously ‘pump’ words into my mind, I can hear a voice – but I don’t have them bouncing around in the same way others do.