Several things can be true at once. In my case, all of the following are 100% accurate: 1. I “chose” to be a writer. 2. I gained some weight in the last few years that I’m working on losing. 3. I practice meditation daily. and 4. I always have to be doing something.
Besides my baking and wannabe-writing careers, I’m a guy with a lot of little crafts and hobbies on the side. It’s always good to be multifaceted, and the majority of my hobbies veer toward the cozier parts of life. I homebrew, I knit, I play guitar and harmonica (not in any bands, and not especially well- just good enough to please myself and some friends,) I read and enjoy good whiskey.
Over the last year and change, however, you would be forgiven for thinking one of them was “Losing My Shit on the Internet for Hours of the Day.” In my end-of-the-year post, I talked about how 2024 was about “coming back to myself” and relearning who I am. Part of that process is also deciding who I am not, and what I don’t want to be. When you love something enough to make it an important part of your life, you need to treat it like it’s important– and get rid of the stuff you don’t want to be important.
“I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been; Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were, with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair. I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see. For still there are so many things that I have never seen: in every wood in every spring there is a different green. I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago and people who will see a world that I shall never know. But all the while I sit and think of times there were before, I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.“ – Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien
Something I’ve come to learn and love OR hate about myself depending on the day is that I seem to have turned into the guy that everyone tells everything to.
It’s the part of working on yourself that I think broadcasts to everyone around you. As you learn to become kinder and safer for yourself, you radiate that out and become kinder and safer for others, and others respond.
Part of it is that, barring imminent danger, I’ve developed a pretty solid vault. I don’t pass along what people tell me, even when someone else comes along and I find myself biting my tongue- “If I could tell this person what so-and-so told me earlier, it could make things so much easier.” I’m no one’s messenger pigeon though, and I’m not gonna break trust for something as trivial as those conflicts usually are (in the grand scheme, anyway.)
It’s not that I’m really good at keeping a secret- it’s that I often either quickly forget or say “you do you” and figure it doesn’t concern me. I’m not a snitch, but I’m also no schoolyard hero.
The bigger part of it is something my therapist described to me, an idea in Tibetan Buddhism called drala– an energy that can infuse people, places and even things that isn’t “good” or “bad”- it simply is, and all it means is “take a breath, you are safe here.”
Here’s a bit of news that might be upsetting to some of my readers- or comforting, depending on how you look at it: Nothing the universe does is personal. The world isn’t out to get you, “everyone’s” not out to screw you. The universe and the world are neither cruel nor kind, they just are– and thank God for that.
Understanding and acting on this won’t suddenly make life easier or more manageable either, but it will let you focus your attention, energy, and will on what you can do about it, rather than wishing it wasn’t so. Again, it’s not personal- the universe doesn’t care how you feel about it. It’s waiting for you to decide what you’re gonna do about it.
Dandelions don’t register an opinion about where those jackass humans put cement. They just grow. Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com
Where do you want to go with this? What do you want to be when you get there? How do you want to end? Where is the finish line?
For a change, I’m actually starting this post from an arguably morbid place and trying to guide it back toward a more holistic one- beginning with the end in mind.
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 butin 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.
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.
“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.
The Black Hat Baker 