I have made a commitment to three things: finding time for Blue Space (beach, sky), Green Space (earth, woods), and the responses I have to poets & writers. I seek to discover the art of being.
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Teach the Peach
Somewhere in our travels, Jim and I ended up behind a peach truck. This truck was full of the most beautiful peaches we had ever seen -- a balanced variety of color in yellows, apricot, coral, pink, orange, and red. We were bummed when the truck took a left turn when we kept going straight because we were enjoying the experience, and wishing we could get our hands on some of those peaches.
Last week I was in Publix and they had a huge bin of peaches that looked amazing. I talked with another shopper about the peaches, wondering if they were indeed as good as they looked. She was skeptical, and only took one (and left her shopping list behind!) I bought two.
They were DELICIOUS.
Back at the store this past weekend, I bought three more peaches. I enjoy one a day. I have one left for this morning.
When I looked at that stunning peach sitting on my counter, I was reminded of a teaching on the orange by Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. He teaches that we can look at an orange and see the whole world.
I looked at that peach and saw the whole world today.
This peach grew on a tree that someone planted in a field. It was subject to the sun, the rain, the wind, the children passing by, the various insects that crawled on it, the sky above, the moving clouds, the moonlight orchard at night, the stars.
This peach was picked by someone that might have been up all night with a sick child. This peach was delivered across the miles by a truck driver who might be worried about his finances. This peach was carried by people who have children and grandchildren and grandparents and parents and ancestors stretching far back in time.
This peach was put on display by a young man that might have been taught by a teacher I know. It was rung up, perhaps, by a cashier who is finding herself falling in love unexpectedly at the age of 58. This peach went into a bag that was manufactured by someone like my stepson, and carried home by me in a vehicle made by thousands of people and sold to me by a young man who was excited about his upcoming first trip to California.
This peach will be enjoyed by me in all its juicy goodness, and this experience shared with you.
This peach is blue space and green space and river flow.
This peach contains the whole world.
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Crying again, for beautiful life - the seed that became the tree, that nourished the peach, that was touched by so many, that ended up on the kitchen counter of one who touches my heart with her words.
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