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Eating

I walk into the kitchen and grab an apple off the counter, lifting it towards my opening mouth.  Suddenly everything goes into super slow motion.  I feel the weight of the apple in my hand, feel gravity pressing it lightly against the pads of my fingers.  Instantly the flesh of my fingertips conforms to the shape of the apple, reforming with exactly the right amount of tension to balance the weight and shape of the apple.  The bones in my fingers are connected to muscles in my hand.  In some fantastic way, all of this lightly pulsing machinery is wrapped in a translucent covering called skin.  I can see through it, into my hand.  There’s a kind of pivot down there… an elbow.  The apple pops back into focus.  It is nearly bursting, so tightly pressed against its skin.  The molecules, the water, the carbon that is in the flesh of the apple convey their entire history.  They were part of the air, in the ocean, part of an animal, feces, bacteria, so many things, cycled over and over again.  Before that, they were created in a supernova explosion of a star, long before our own local star was born.  The molecules, the atoms, have no complaints, no reason, no mission.  They’re simply present, there.  They’re totally empty.  Silent.  I see the apple coming towards my face.  It’s wondrous.  It moves of its own volition.  It gets larger as it comes closer.  My jaw drops a little and some saliva flows in my mouth.  I’m not doing any of this.  How could I?  I’m superfluous.  The experience intensifies and I close my eyes.  Now I hear the apple.  It is a certain sweet note, with no sound.  I inhale and exhale slowly.  Some of the apple molecules have entered my lungs and are now part of me, racing through my bloodstream, continuing their journey.  I’m as temporary as the apple in my hand.  A rush of expansive gratitude wells up in my chest and spreads across my whole body.  I’m so thankful for all that went into this moment, for all the things that happened, had to have aligned, to bring this moment to me.  I slowly lower myself into the chair, eyes closed, and continue breathing, slowly, bathed in whatever this is.  No thinking is happening.  Individual awarenesses arise and fade.  Eventually my eyes open.  I try to recall why I’m sitting here with this apple in my hand.  Oh, yes: I was hungry.