A Moment In Time

The internal editor is both a writer’s best friend and worst nemesis because its voice sounds like all of our heroes, influences, instincts, talent, and tastes. The problem is that those voices are both encouraging us and criticizing us, simultaneously and constantly. I think writing only really comes out when you can shut all those voices off- even just for moments at a time. Between news of the world, work, and my own preoccupation with getting back in shape, there are precious few times when I can actually feel “still” enough to hear my own voice.

In the Hagakure by Yamamoto Tsunetomo, the samurai-turned-Buddhist monk writes “Lord Sanenori said, ‘In the midst of a single breath, where perversity cannot be held, is the Way.’”

Think about that for a moment. You’re breathing right now, right? I hope so, anyway. Don’t do anything to change your breath, but just kind of notice it. When people meditate, the reason we get told to “count our breaths” or “focus on our breath” so much is that it’s impossible to breathe anywhere but in the present moment.

So here you are, breathing, and just being aware of air going in and out of your body. Without changing your breath, though, try to notice the spots between the breaths. The point just before you inhale or exhale when the previous motion has just finished. Nothing in, nothing out, you’re not actively holding your breath… it’s just stillness.

Paying this kind of attention to something as ubiquitous as breathing- really just being still and present long enough to notice- can feel really freaking weird. It’s like suddenly noticing how your clothing feels on your skin, or realizing you can feel the structure of your teeth in your mouth.

Okay, that last one WAS seriously weird. Sorry about that, but when was the last time you stopped long enough to notice something like that, though? Before I started meditating regularly, that kind of sensation only happened when I was injured or something felt off/wrong. We’re not encouraged to stop or think or be present- there’s so much to do and see and consume and needs doing and we’ll be left behind otherwise, and therefore less-than therefore shamed therefore unfuckable therefore therefore therefore… It’s not a good way to live, but we’re used to it. We’re so used to it that stopping to think, feel, and be present in our bodies feels really goddamned weird.

A quote meme reading in white text over a landscape "All men's miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone. Blaise Pascal"

I still don’t always feel as still or serene as I want to, or when I want to, but I have started to notice moments that make feeling present easier.

I’m a chef, so of course focusing on a taste or flavor is important. Whether it’s shutting my eyes to focus on what a new batch of nectarine jam needs at work or sitting up on my porch, determined to experience everything a dram of whiskey has to offer, those are moments of quiet focus, stillness, and presence that I need in my life.

When I run, that feeling of presence and stillness is called “the Zone” or “the Void.” The mind goes blank and there’s nothing but the slap of shoes on asphalt and wind on skin. Even physical pain is ignorable and thus endurable.

It’s a bit different when I’m sitting down at my writing desk because ironically it’s here that sensory presence can be a distraction. The candle I’ve made a habit of lighting when I write does less to inspire presence than encourage contemplation. Above my desk is a large print of Rene Magritte’s “Personal Values.” I chose it because it’s surreal, serene, and just odd enough to let you stare at it for a moment and think about other things, like watching fish in a tank.

The painting "Personal Values" by Rene Magritte. Looking at the painting, it's unclear if the room is small or the occupants are large. A mirrored wardrobe and a neatly made bed are in a room painted to look like clouds on a white sky. The floor is wood planks with oriental rugs. Occupying the room are enormous turtle-shell comb leaning against the wall on the bed, a massive match stick, a blue glass water goblet, and a pink bar of soap the size of a trunk. On top of the dresser is an equally massive shaving brush.
“Personal Values, 1952”- Rene Magritte

Even as I sit here writing, there is that internal editor again. “Where are you going with this, Matt? Does this have anything to do with food? The culinary industry? Are you a food writer or aren’t you?”

Yeah, I am- and I could easily spin this whole article to be something about finding stillness in the creative life, maintaining mindfulness in the kitchen, or meditations over a medium-well-roasted tofu block. I’m not going to, though. Even in your creative life and the pursuit of a craft, you need to take the equivalent of a breath and find the stillness before it.

Stay Classy,

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The Old Men and the Seafood

I started out the door with a simple idea- “Find a place with food and a beer, sit down, do some writing, come home and hide from the sun to edit.” That’s always the plan for at least one of my days off. Brilliant blog posts, scintillating wit, and scathing social criticism don’t just fall out of the sky, you know.

I love my wife, my cat, and my friends very much, but I’ve also had a lot of time (and put a lot of work into) enjoying my own company. That’s why, at some point every weekend and even on vacation, I try to make a point of getting out on my own and putting some pavement under my shoes.

What looks interesting?
What are people talking about?
Where are the workers going on their breaks?
Where are the old men drinking?
Are there cooks out and about? Where are they?

That’s how you hear about the best stuff in any given city. You have to go find it.

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Too Much “Stuff?” Stop Wanting It.

I spent a good chunk of today looking for a candle.

It wasn’t just for a candle though. I went shopping for some clothes today, and I intended to pick up a scented candle for my new desk because I have apparently become a guy who likes having a nice candle burning near me when I write. I don’t really know or care if its aromatherapy, meditative, or vibes- it feels Nice and Good and Right for the Desk, so when my little lavender-scented candle burned out, I said “Time to get another.”

I grabbed the clothes from Target (if you catch me in a fancy brand of clothes, assume I got lucky at a thrift shop) and realized I wasn’t going to find the candle I wanted. All the candles that smelled good at all were way too big or pungent than I needed. I wanted it to be low-profile and not to distract me while I was working. Since Emily had come with me and was doing her own shopping, I resolved to just wander around and look for a little something extra for myself. New pins for my collection and little bags of gummy candy are my usual weaknesses and “treats” when I’m out shopping.

After walking through store after store in Clackamas Mall, I came out empty-handed and okay with it, which was an interesting moment in and of itself. Somehow, I’ve gotten to the point where I like looking at “Stuff” and thinking about it, but not getting it.

The things I want, need, and that stick with me I will get, and I will happily eat the cost. After losing my white summer hat, I had very few qualms about dropping $112 for a new, authentic Panama hat. I don’t mind shelling out for a bottle of whiskey that calls to me or that I think I’ll enjoy. Good things cost money.

Somehow, though, the kid who used to collect stuffed animals, Transformers toys, mint containers, tea, and eventually teapots has gotten past the need to have things just to have them.

A wall of similar, multi-colored stuffed animals arranged by color.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
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How To Live Forever

If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten, either write things worth reading, or do things worth writing.’

– Ben Franklin

You don’t get to decide whether or not you are a mentor. Your apprentices decide that when they determine whether or not they can learn from you- and the absolute greatest feeling on Earth is when your apprentices succeed.

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Cascading Success: Little Wins and Granting Grace

I’m writing this post while sitting at a beautiful new desk in the corner of my bedroom. It’s a 1940s Chippendale reproduction secretary desk- the kind that opens outward and contains cubbies, drawers, nooks, and secret compartments inside. It’s seen better days, but except for a little hardware and some polishing, the desk is in excellent condition.

It’s the kind of desk that fits my “dark academia hobbit” vibe perfectly. Sitting down at it just makes me want to write, and even better- I got it for free off of someone’s curb. It belonged to the original owner’s grandmother and it’s just “had its time with them.” They were glad it was being adopted by a writer though instead of winding up in a landfill.

I bring it up because, in the last week or so, various aspects of my life have turned for the better. I’m finally starting to lose weight again, my money management has improved so that I’m actually able to save again, and I’ve successfully pitched two new desserts at work in addition to getting a cost-of-living pay increase.

My dad would say “Don’t question it, just say thanks and carry on.” It’s a typically Jewish superstitious mindset- “When good things happen, don’t question it and don’t express too much happiness or it’ll all go away.” I catch myself in that all the time. I rarely say “everything’s great”- it’s always “I’m doing alright.” “Things could always be better” as a Jewish mental/emotional/spiritual/supernatural insurance against things getting worse.

I am starting to question and wonder about this, though, simply because this isn’t the first time it’s happened. A feeling of something “clicking” into place and unlocking a cosmic level-up. The best that I can tell, it’s because success cascades, and “winning” once can inspire you to succeed in other areas, consciously or not.

A deskscape of an old-fashioned secretary desk with a laptop, a candle, a wine glass, and an ipad playing music.
A better computer that can fit nicely inside with the front closed will be next, but you have to admit this is classy and cozy as hell.
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