The Rich Vegetarian

Simply Being | Simple Being

Author: Lakshmi (page 36 of 275)

Meditation. Food. Music. Yoga. Photography. Books. Art of Living. Nature.
Come talk to me.

March 29, 2017 / 0 Comments

Attention

I have recently got acquainted with a person, let’s call them M.

M is a dynamic individual, bursting with ideas and optimism. M could be termed an evangelist of sorts, because they want to infect others with their ideas. They genuinely believe in the beauty and efficacy of their plans, how it all makes perfect sense… and that all I need to do is say Yes.

(Do you know this person too?)

You cannot but be charmed by this individual. And that includes me as well.

I thought it was the sheer energy, their boundless enthusiasm and good cheer. Then a less flattering (and more truthful, perhaps?) idea dawned.

Maybe I was gravitating to this person simply because they were paying me attention. And lots of it, undivided and dedicated.

Maybe I craved attention secretly, and then pretended that I couldn’t stand it? Was I a total hypocrite?

Maybe not. These traits play out below the surface, and some kind of training (awareness, introspection) is required before you can even detect their presence. All I can do is pay attention myself to these hidden dynamics, be gentle on myself, breathe out and let go.

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March 21, 2017 / 0 Comments

Eat in Quiet Silence

I eat lunch alone at work.

I eat around noon, perched on a stool along a long table, facing a full length window looking out at the Downtown Atlanta skyline. It is a lovely view. I take my time, chewing as slowly as I am able to (I am not the most patient eater), occasionally peeping into my phone, but mostly eating and looking out, quiet.

It is the way I like it, really. I have come to realize that it is important, especially for me, to eat slow. When I am able to do that, I come away from lunch feeling satisfied and nourished, sans any kind of stuffed-discomfort-bloat. However, I have had the opposite experience too, and that makes me think  … I need to eat in slow silence.

I enjoy meeting friends, sharing food and laughter and talk and fun. However, it isn’t always the best for me, food-wise. I tend to eat in an unmindful manner, chewing be damned. I am not 100% aware of what I consume. It isn’t generally a problem of eating too much (I am rather conservative in that aspect), but more about swallowing without chewing well, ingesting a lot of air with food, and ending up feeling that I might just need to skip the next meal. And then I am left sipping warm herbal tea through the day, waiting for the bloated feeling to go away.

This never happens during my workday lunches.

The trick now lies in being able to combine my calm-n-silent weekday lunch mode with company.

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March 17, 2017 / 0 Comments

Come Say Hi

“Why didn’t you come say Hi?”

Umm, it is a little tough to explain.

It is pretty likely that I was really happy to see you, as in literally “see” you. And I sincerely wish that your life is great, and everything is well at your end.

(I wonder, though… that if that weren’t the case, and if you were weathering challenges, would you tell me?)

And so, if we were to run into each other someplace, I suppose we would exchange pleasantries about the weather, mutual friends, children, school updates, etc. All important and significant details, I know. And I am good at this stuff, I really am. I learned early enough to converse, talk to strangers and acquaintances, make people comfortable. Someone once described me as being “delightful in most social situations.” But these aren’t my favorite kind of conversations. They feel rather onerous to me. I feel the burden of being “socially delightful.” It isn’t that I don’t care about you or your life; I genuinely do. But I don’t know if I am really interested in exchanging mundane details about our mutual lives.

Is any detail mundane, though? Not to the individual in question, no. I find the mundaneness in my life rather beautiful. It is comforting, grounding. But I am not necessarily excited about sharing it with others.

Does that make sense?

Also, I have come to think that I (or we?) am an outsider to everyone else’s life but my own. Friendly outsider, perhaps? So I can lend a ear, a shoulder… but can I do much else?

Maybe that is the point of these general encounters. To listen without judgment. To be a friendly witness, a silent and warm presence.

What I’d love to know is what you think about life. I would love to know about your imaginings, fears and victories. I’d like to know how you fell, and what made you rise.

But these conversations are organic, and best left unplanned.

Besides, not everyone is necessarily up for that conversation. So we continue to subsist on superficial talk. And it keeps things chugging along nicely.

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March 7, 2017 / 2 Comments

What does this body feel like?

It feels like a silken quilt, the kind that you can throw over yourself in early spring, that provides the perfect amount of warmth and softness. It feels tender, especially near the nape, neck, top of the chest, clavicle, and inner arms. It feels like a little pillow of mounded flesh, soft and rounded. It is satin-smooth in places, hard and bony in others. It is lean, sometimes dry and anxious. There are cuts in tender places, scars and birthmarks, remnants of an incision from an appendectomy, vaccination and chickenpox memories. It has stretch marks that don’t owe themselves to childbirth. It has dark-light patches and vacant spaces, hollowed out. There are small curves, stable enough to rest the palms. There are lines on smooth surfaces. There is roughness, abrasions, abrasiveness, and a silhouette that hides easily.

This body feels like a good friend.

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