Skip to main content

Meditation

Often on weekends, I am the first to wake up and come into the kitchen. A plan for the day starts to form as the coffee kicks in - starting out nebulous and then shaping into something real. Last Sunday, I found myself making a batch of muffins. While they baked I unloaded the dishwasher and for a good twenty minutes my mind was nearly empty. The aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the kitchen, I noticed that the coffee was weak and the silence complete - no birdsong no barking dog next door. 

I don't know if this counts as mindfulness but it was deeply relaxing - putting the dishes away, cleaning the counter top and not needing to have a plan. But the feeling of stillness inside reminded me of lines from a William Blake poem that I first read in high school 
To see a world in a grain of sand 
And a Heaven in a wild flower, 
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 
And Eternity in an hour.
Later in the morning when J woke up she was surprised by what was for breakfast. I made her happy in a small and unexpected way. Later we baked a second batch of muffins together - a relaxing time for both of us. The day may have shaped up very differently if I had not been able to get that quiet early morning time to myself, unhurried to accomplish anything particular.

Comments

Radhika said…
Dear HC, I missed your posts - your meaningful insights about challenges women face, your take on technology, the beautiful way in which you describe utterly mundane things, and of course updates about J. Great to see you back!

Popular posts from this blog

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques