Apple and Tea Leaves

Just this past Sunday I went with a friend for a hike under a blue sky, through trails of autumn leaves yellow orange and red. On the drive back we stopped by an orchard for some apples. I am eating one right now, and having it with some green tea. Every thing I eat, I try to really taste where it comes from, and what it really is. They are the soil from which they grew. The water, sometimes from the farmers, sometimes from rains carried from thousands of miles. The rays of the sun. The energy and care of those who tended them, the people that picked them, packed them, transported them, sold them. The "fire" from which I boil water for the tea. In fact, the whole universe can be found in this apple, and in these tea leaves. I try to let this soak in. So every time I eat something, it can be a spiritual practice, if I can remember to thank all the many people involved in this one apple, this one cup of tea, and remember that I am being nourished by all elements of the universe. On the surface this may seem like a self-centered thing to think. But I realize that it's not, if I just remember that "I" am merely an impermanent concatenation of all elements of the universe. An apple can remind me as long as I remain aware of it.

Candle

There is something peaceful about a lit candle - the way the flame gracefully moves, the soft light it gives, and its wax body with its ever-changing and transient life.

When I was a child, I used to revel in joy when summer storms knocked the electricity out, because that meant we would be using candles, and candles always gave me the feeling of inner peace and contentment.

These days I am rediscovering the awesomeness of candles as I keep my light-switches at the 'off' position. My whole body and mind relaxes as I brush my teeth, shower, and change my clothes in candle-light. Best of all, I fall asleep much easier as the darkness prepares me mind-and-body for it.

Sometimes what I find most peaceful about the candle is blowing the flame out, and just observing the tip of the wick fade from a fiery red-orange to a tiny pinpoint red, and finally flickers a super-tiny sub-atomic supernova, passing away, retiring into the night.