I just ate a nectarine.
Sat in my dressing gown, in my office.
My mind wanted to know what I was going to do while I was eating the nectarine. Should I be reading a book? (God knows I've got enough books that need reading.)
Should I eat it at my desk? Maybe I could tick off a couple of things while I'm enjoying this juicy treat. Then again, computer keyboards and sticky fingers don't play nicely, do they?
No (says my mind), I should just sit and eat the nectarine. Really enjoy it. Be present with the nectarine. That's the right thing to do, isn't it? Come on Giles, you know this stuff, walk the walk, man!
So I take a bite and it's delicious (more delicious than two days ago, when they weren't quite ripe) but now I'm looking at the nectarine, trying to ‘see it like I've never seen a nectarine before’ … christ, my mind goes into ecstasies over that one – I could even post online how I ‘just ate’ a nectarine, how very spiritual!
Another bite and now my mind's busy lining up all the things I'm going to do after I've eaten the nectarine. Busy, busy little thing. It likes to stay busy. If it doesn't prove its worth, I might notice it's surplus to requirements and it might be out of a job.
(Worse still, I could keep it on the books, but just ignore it completely – the ultimate dis!)
About three bites in—less than half way through, I'm pleased to report—after a brief, irritating flash of boredom (that I once heard described beautifully as ‘the feeling you get when the mind is operating at a greater speed than life’) I sit there and I absent-mindedly eat the nectarine.
And I notice that, absent the mind, there's not really anything to do, but enjoy the nectarine.
Until it pops back up and says,
📦🗣️: “I bet you wish you hadn't tried so hard for the first few bites, now, eh?”
🍑
Giles