Slow eating

I'm a TV-eater. When meals are ready I take the plate through to the living room and put something on. If I'm eating alone in public I'll make sure I have a book with me.

Lunch today was a wedge of cheese and potato tortilla with rocket, cherry tomato and beetroot salad. None of it from the garden (god bless M&S) but all fresh and wholly delicious.

I sat at the table outside in the sun (thank you sun) and took a mouthful. Before I knew it, almost as soon as I'd started chewing, my hands were loading up the knife and fork with my next mouthful.

I put the cutlery down. I just ate. I had to keep reminding myself all meal. It tasted better than usual, I'm sure of it. I felt full more quickly. Just eating - it's a marvellous invention!

Afterwards I lay on my stomach on the lawn (which is mostly springy, comfy moss) and read some more of John Tarrant's bring me the rhinoceros. Here's a little taste.

While emptiness is what's left when you take away the thoughts and beliefs that you have constructed around an event, not knowing is a way to move in the abscence of such thoughts. It's a creative possibility. Not knowing who you are allows you to meet an event without pretending it is something else - something that happened before. Then you might experience just what is happening: something unpredictable, delightful, dangerous, safe - eating a taco or walking down the street.