Silent Breakfast

It's Sunday morning and I'm here on my last morning at Kripalu. Traditionally the morning meals are to be enjoyed in silence. This doesn't always happen as people sometimes can not allow themselves to have a moment of silence when surrounded by people. Usually I would be with a group of my yogis, sitting around the table nibbling on our healthy meal. This morning was different. I felt a call to do my own thing. I thought being away for the weekend I would find some rest, sleeping the whole night through. Not so. I have gone to bed at 12 or later every night and been awake around 5 or 6AM. This morning my room mate Cindy wanted to get up and go to the 6:30AM class. I had every intention of going and enjoying one last Kripalu class but the warmth of my bed was much more inviting. I laid there for a few minutes after she left. When I finally got out of bed I was wrestling with two choices, shower and eat breakfast (and my tummy was bare!) or meditate in the Swami Kripalu meditation room, then shower and then eat. I went with choice one. Showered and clean, I started to walk to the kitchen for my lone breakfast. At Kripalu there are large silver wall hangings with different inspirational quotes on them. I noticed one I'd walked by all weekend, without reading, that stuck out to me. I wish I'd written it down but I didn't. All I remember is that it was by Waldo Emerson. More importantly though was how I'd noticed I wasn't paying attention to details.

I've only once been to a restaurant alone in my whole life. But there's something different about going to a lunchroom and being with a bunch of like minded beings. I started down the buffet line: creamy rice cereal (I love hot cereals for breakfast), a poached egg with some veggies, a little sweet potato home fries, a ginger oat scone (I WILL find the recipe for those), prunes, apple cider, English breakfast tea and some vanilla soy milk for my tea. As you can see I'd been living meat free, by choice, for the last few days. After filling my plate I walked to the back of the room, all the while thinking to myself I should try sitting in the center of a table not in the back corner. It was probably my ego telling me if I sit in the back I'm a sad, depressed woman who likes to be hidden. However, the back corner was calling to me. I sat down and started shoveling food into my face. It probably wasn't that dramatic but after I'd glanced over and noticed a man enjoying his bowl full of goodness with his eyes closed I realized that was the point. To eat in silence, slow down and enjoy what I was given. Though I didn't go so far as to close my eyes, I did intentionally slow down my eating pace and notice what I was putting in my mouth. The texture of those glorious prunes, the way the greens (may have been kale, not entirely sure) pared well with the poached eggs, the way the scones were moist and delicious while still having that scone dryness to them. The apple cider was delicious. I'm guilty as all sin when it comes to enjoying a beverage. I often guzzle it down as if I'm parched and haven't had a drink in ages. The cinnamon and apple blended well. The cider tasted pressed this morning, not concentrated, frozen stuff mixed with water. I started looking around and noticing all the different types of people coming and going. I could hear the subtle sounds of people cracking the shell of their hard boiled eggs. There was a woman waving her arms in front of the man she was with as if to wake him from a dream. Two people walked into the room I knew, the rest of them were in the morning sadhana. I was sending out subtle energy, hoping either of them would come sit next to me, alone in the back corner. Neither of them got my universal plea! Then, Cheryl walked into the kitchen. I noticed her as she was walking my way. I was finished with my breakfast by this time, sitting, enjoying, watching, and sipping on my tea. She gently set her tray down and then mouthed, "How are you?" to which I smiled and gave her a thumbs up. She went to get some tea and I almost burst into tears. Was I really ok? Where were theses tears coming from? Maybe I was missing my family? I was loosing my will and desire to remain silent. I gently whispered to Cheryl, "I can't wait to see my daughter." She acknowledged and said, "I bet." I got up and went to get another scone and some of those wonderfully, juicy, mushy prunes. While eating I would intentionally put my fork down after every bite and savor the flavors and textures. As I was reveling in my prunes it struck me, if I'm missing my daughter after two nights away from her, how is my mother feeling? I've lived away from her for almost three years. Only seeing her for a short time twice during the three years. It's amazing the things becoming a parent draws out of me. "I need to go write this down," is all I kept thinking. I whispered to Cheryl I was going to go meditate (which I didn't do because I knew I needed to blog about the whole experience before it left me). I also told her I realized how important having a silent breakfast with myself was, not realizing she would think she'd intruded. I later explained to her how having her sit down with me was exactly what I needed at that moment. For some reason her sitting down brought to surface some emotions. I haven't figured out what those emotions were.

Breakfast was a lesson for me; to slow down and enjoy things, especially the little things. I haven't been taking the time to be with myself the way I should; to really immerse myself with silence, kindness and exploration. Aside from the monumental treasures I found about myself in Stephen Cope's workshop, I will take this gem home with me and hopefully apply it to my crazy life!