My love for hotel breakfasts knows no boundaries. And like any great love affair it starts off with ravenous vengeance My plate is piled high, the food is delicious and foreign. I navigate the buffet like an exploration of a new body, pausing for a moment here and there, a quick kiss and then a full frontal assault. I don’t chew. Chewing takes time.
Day one there are no faults, the food is everything I ever wanted.
Day two I’m still discovering the hidden valleys, the textures, tastes and smells.
Day three we negotiate our likes and dislikes.
Day four The egg isn’t boiled quite right.
Day five we have a blazing argument over nothing.
Day six we make up as the chef goes out of her way to make the perfect egg.
Day seven I want out.
Day eight, silence.
I no longer want the buffet and all its showiness. I want my home-made yogurt and burnt muesli. I miss the imperfection of my other life, my food, my animals and my people. I am travelling somewhere but not quite sure where because my familiar road-map has been stolen.
I miss you.
Then you start to see what you miss.Your brain joins the dots. A child that could be yours across the street, a cat that rubs around your legs, an outline of a man or woman walking and smelling of your past.
But they don’t see you.
It’s OK to miss people, animals, bits of your life when they are no longer there, but a more yogic approach would be to ‘miss’ them while you have them.
The life in front of you is more beautiful than you think.
The people, places, animals in front of you now are your people, places and animals, no matter how they show up for you. Any imperfections you spot are a fault in your own perception.
Practice for today: If you are away from everything you love try to find that homeliness in the scene in front of you. If you are at home make a list of the qualities and characteristics of the people around you that you would miss and keep that at the top of your thoughts as you move through the day.