On Tea and Oranges

Having developed a habit of meditation has been a gift. Habits are hard to give up. Good habits have a unique sense of reward. 

One of the ironies of a meditation or mindfulness habit is that it somewhat runs on auto-pilot. I wake now and just do it. I don’t think about it. Although, that’s not true — it’s like a light switch — I wake and I am drawn to meditation in an automated way, and yet the practice I immediately settle into is one of mindfulness.

I’m a spiritual skeptic. Despite having some inexplicable and surreal experiences both during formal meditation sessions and without, there’s just some kind of thought-barrier I can’t quite get past.

And yet, I don’t think it impedes me at all from extraordinary benefits of a regular spiritual practice. I think it’s my curiosity that fuels the habit. On the most modest of days, I know that the daily practice of training my mind to be aware — aware of thoughts, aware of feelings, aware of my body, aware of what, by direct observation, really does seem to be just various forms of energy passing through this mysterious thing which is consciousness.

Thich Nhat Hanh, the buddhist monk born of the Vietnam War, wrote “Take the time to eat an orange in mindfulness. If you eat an orange in forgetfulness, caught in your anxiety and sorrow, the orange is not really there. But if you bring your mind and body together to produce true presence, you can see that the orange is a miracle.”

I drink tea almost every morning. Too often, it sits on my desk too hot to drink for a while, and cools to an acceptable temperature while I write. Once it hits that sweet spot — I can’t tell you how long it takes me to drink or how many cups I’ve gone through where mostly I’m aware of it only a sip at a time.

A habit I don’t have, but that I occasionally drop into honors Thich Nhat Hanh’s suggestion here. I sit with it from the first sip to the last. I feel the heat of the mug on my lips, taste the tea’s mild bitterness, and feel it enter my body as I swallow.

Enough writing for the morning. The tea is cooling and will soon be acceptable to drink. It is really there. I choose to spend this next portion of my life appreciating that it exists.