Shadow Puppet Storyteller

Our daily bread

"...may your gravity by lightened by grace."
a line from poem, Equilibrium by John O'Donohue

Feels like a day to write. Rather than strictly denying myself a thing during Lent, I have watched my reactions to turning away from that thing, or more broadly, any "added" thing that I notice has me obsessively desiring or planning the acquisition of it. I chose a particularly hard one this year: bread. I also thought about denying myself (Starbucks) coffee for 40 days. I am not even a Catholic adherent -- I simply wanted to have a spiritual experience via the historically Catholic practice. In the first 15 days, I can report that I dutifully keep a journal of what mental struggles come, if they manifest at all.

I did not truly go gluten-free. Balancing my emotions and the safety of my family in having to deal with my emotions is the prime consideration. My body, in the way it operates, needs carbs. But the elimination of bread makes my choices and the planning of meals more conscious. I have easily turned away some pan dulce offered by a co-worker, and feel accomplished in lumping muffins and donuts into the defined restriction column that is my bread.

I also confess that I have not been entirely successful in just these first seventeen days of abstaining. My first blatant break took place this week since I was using up a sourdough loaf in preparing the family's evening meal. I at least consider it was worth the utilitarian joy of cheating with a quality product, rather than debasing myself for some second-rate, preservative-laden and/ or flavorless indulgence from a convenience store. It, or the offering today, is very likely the reason my mind has been pushed to write in the blog today. The company is providing pizza, and that is what I will accept today for lunch. (There might also be good salad).

I chose, in advance, to accept bread if it is offered. To spend the time begging off, in my opinion, speaks from ego or the aggrandizement of willpower to another, and is as bad a practice. It is counter to the peace and poise I am trying to gain.

So, still, I feel my experiment goes well. I feel balanced rather than aggrieved. I have a practiced ability to silently reflect what goes through my mind. Having this quality of equilibrium, considering my divine essence in the experience of human want, is this not how the desert wandering of Jesus magnified his purpose, at least as the story goes? During the season of Lent, and entering into the sacred mysteries of Easter, I appreciate this life --accentuated by my conscious application of spiritual and scientific inquiry about what it is.