Kitchen Spirituality

We sat in the pre-dawn darkness lit only by the flicker of small candles gently illuminating a statue of Kuan Yin, the Bodhisattva of Compassion and Mercy. The autumn air was brisk. The silence of our meditation was punctuated by the occasional “hiss” of steam droplets falling from the lid of the old pot on the charcoal stove cooking the morning rice porridge. The scent of incense and charcoal wafted past. The silent mind floated on the edge of our breath.

Suddnely I sensed Jin Jin stir and softly but quickly get up from the lotus position. I brought my mind back to the meditation. Then a whisper of frustration as an ”Oh No!” came from the kitchen area of the small Chinese rural retreat hut.
The aroma of burnt porridge told the story.

Burnt porridge and meditation - two phenomena from seemingly two different worlds. Yet we are faced with this on a daily basis. While we want the peace and tranquility of our meditation to stretch throughout the day the reality is our day is so often full of the ordinary tasks: cooking, washing dishes, cleaning, ironing, eating, meetings, agendas etc. The peace seems so often bustled.

However, Meditation is like sitting. You can sit in a meditation hall, a dining room, a bus, yes- the loo!! You can sit almost anywhere. The space where you sit does not alter the “sitting”. “Sitting” is “sitting” no matter where you sit. This goes for meditation as well. Meditation is mindfulness – being in the present moment with buddha (awakened) mind. The problem is that for most of us for most of the day we are far from being in the present moment. Meditation becomes that grasped moment in the morning before going to work or sending the kids off to school.

I once asked my Master where is the best place for meditation. His answer was far from my expectation. “In the kitchen” was his reply. The kitchen? “Yes, the kitchen can teach you all about life.”

Meditation is about being connected to the fullness of life – the Buddha moment. Use all of your five senses to connect. Instead of going about your tasks like a robot while your mind is chatting away in the background about the struggles that life brings us, try getting out of your mind and connect fully to the present moment. Look at the colours of the food you are preparing, the shapes, texture. Listen to the sound as you peel the vegetables or the sound of the hissing of the pot steaming away, the knife hitting the chopping board. Feel the implements in your hand, the pressure, the smoothness of the vegetables etc Smell the aromas of the spices, taste the flavours. Do this for about twenty minutes. Fully connect with what you are doing.

In Buddhism we have a Zen saying: “Before enlightenment, chop wood. After enlightenment, chop wood.” The secret of life is in doing the ordinary things extraordinarily well. It is also about community. The Sangha is the community and is one of the Three Jewels. It is in the kitchen that we have the opportunity to create community in preparing the meal for others to enjoy.

That Autumn morning in the retreat hut as we looked out across the Chinese countryside we came together after meditation and laughed about the burnt porridge. Jin Jin added some soy milk, stirred the pot, added something else and served us a wonderful breakfast. Even that small action told us about how to deal with life that suddenly goes off the rails. All of life is both drama and dharma! The kitchen is a wonderful spiritual teacher.