Friday, April 5, 2013

Change of Clothes



When asked if he feared death, the Dalai Lama shrugged and said: "Change of clothes."

I started a Mindfulness Meditation class Tuesday and like Jon Kabat-Zinn we ate three raisins mindfully. Slowly. What a change of clothes that was for me, I who can gulp an entire entree like a gulperfish.

My discovery when I did it later, with Oreos, is that I couldn't do it with Oreos.  I found myself with my head in the box, digging like a fox.

Then I heard the Yonkers-inflected voice of my meditation teacher, "Be, here, now, Elizabeth," and I lifted my crumb-flecked head and stood on my hind legs like a squirrel with the cookie between my paws and looked at it. I've never actually looked carefully at an Oreo I've been so eager  to throw it small-fish-like into my circus seal mouth.

I gave it a sniff.  The odor an Oreo gives off is distinctly sugared grocery store floor wax. How could I not have noticed? The cookie, when I paused to experience it, was unnaturally crispy, the creme -- by god -- what exactly is meant by the word creme?

Still, the Idea of Oreo was so compelling my mind overran the instructions of my body (Stop! Un-yummy poison!) and I went scrambling back into the fox hole. Nom nom nom.

I realize what makes Oreos so bingey is that they are engineered like Disney. You want a big drag off the dream. It's a fantasy, a mara of a deliciousness, and a happy sweet innocent easiness, that never, and does not now exist.