Today, for breakfast, I had a bowl of oatmeal. Trader Joe’s. Instant. Maple. Suggested serving size: one packet. 160 calories.
I’ve been here before, at this table, with this particular bowl, this breakfast, many times. I catch myself easily now. I know when I’m doing it again.
How many mornings can I read the same oatmeal box?
An excellent source of seven vitamins and minerals
Made with whole grain oats
I am reading. Numb. Thinking. Always thinking.
If it’s not the box at the table, it’s a screen of some kind. A phone. The Today Show. A newspaper.
My brain is a scavenger. It hunts, sniffing around for the next bite of something, anything, it doesn’t really matter. It’s almost always out there. It’s rarely here, the only place that actually matters. This is a problem.
Maybe it is for you, too. Maybe we’re all sitting at our Saturday-morning-tables, scattered around the world, reading boxes. Nutritional contents. All those ingredients. Pyridoxine Hydrochloride. We’re hunched over our dirty little keyboards, scavenging, scrolling. Grasping, all of us.
I missed breakfast today. I didn’t notice the smell of maple; the way the oats felt against the roof of my mouth. I missed the sunlight, how it streamed into the kitchen, bounced off a jug of water.
The moment you start talking about mindfulness, it’s no longer mindfulness. It’s advertising. Jon Kabat-Zinn said that once.
I guess that makes this an advertisement. A reminder to slow down; to taste and feel and be; to do just one thing at a time.
To put down the box of oatmeal. To be here now. For this.