• Yale Bowman

Life was Meant for Tasting

Sometimes I forget that I am here for tasting life. I go on living, but not tasting. What a shame, because while the mind says "live, live, live", the heart says "taste, taste, taste!".  Sometimes my mind will think it is tasting, but the cognizant taste of life, tastes only similar to life. The mind-taste is to LaCroix, while the heart is into chewing Stride Gum, quite possibly even an exceptional stick of Juicy Fruit.  Minus the chemicals and industrial poisons... please forgive the metaphor.  Perhaps that's why one day some years ago, after being a dedicated smoker, I dropped the habit without a second thought. I have a much more powerful oral fixation, and I've found much more comfort in heart-tasting.  The beauty is, I still don't mind what brand; happiness, sadness, ecstasy, it all tastes extraordinary when I'm really tasting it.  Mindfully tasting. Suddenly these things are just occuring, and I'm the cloud-gazer of life. All is occuring in my sky, but I can only appreciate or notice the visuals. Even the brightest silhouettes are only clouds, even the darkest shapes are contemporary, all is passing through my sky, my center.   My center is my watchtower, where my tastebuds reach out with all six senses.  They enjoy the cloudscape, and the shadowplay. Sometimes I forget I am watching, but there's no shame in that. Every opportunity for forgetfulness  is a chance to remember.  Life is more deeply experienced this way, for me. After all, everything is happening for kicks. Sometimes they're my kicks, other times they're the cosmic laughs, of the universal god-consciousness.  Who's kicking who?  The Waves gets its kicks, the Ocean laughs. The Ocean gets its kicks, sometimes the Wave will laugh at its own seriousness.  "Its all breaking on the shore," says the Ocean.  It all tastes rich, it all tastes sweet, it all tastes bitter, it all tastes sour, it all tastes salty.  Life lacks nothing, especially not salt, and my heart-taste lends the umami. Minus the MSG, of course. 


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