Luxury

Today's word of the day from Dictionary.com was fletcherize--a word I will admit that I have never heard before. It means "to chew food slowly and thoroughly." Apparently the term was coined in honor of the American dietitian Fletcher Horace who advocated chewing each bite of food 32 times in order to truly enjoy it.

Ah chewing. Such luxury. You have no idea how tedious it is to chew food 32, 64, 100 times and not make a dent in its digestibility. Who the heck has time for this? I've found that swallowing things practically whole makes it go a lot faster.

This process with teeth has caused me to reorganize my relationship to time in more than one way--I've touched upon this in past entries--whether its living within the confines of two years, or a lunch hour. What was "before" is not "now" and I have to shift outside of what "was" into what "is." I still like the person I was a year and four months ago more than I like what I am now. I understood that person. I was grounded into that person. This person changes month to month, like bargain rent. This person can't get a foothold. This person wants space and time alone to process the process. This person is worried that blind faith in my orthodontist might be a big mistake. I mean, geez, shouldn't I be able to chew food after 16 months? Is that too much to ask?

I read this today: "Zen Master Jizo said that not knowing is the most intimate thing. Not knowing means to be open to all eventualities, to not prejudge a person or a situation. If your mind is full of preconceived notions, there is no room for an unbiased view. It is like when your hands are full of objects, you cannot pick up anything new. A closed mind causes separation and suspicion. Like an umbrella, a mind is only useful when it is open." --Gerry Shinsin Wick, Roshi, "Zen in the Workplace," Tricycle

So, ok, I get it. I've got my hands full of the old me, when I really should just drop that and pick up the new me. And stop being so suspicious of my orthodontist's abilities. For some reason, that sounds a lot easier than it has been.

In the latest Lonny Magazine, there was an interview with interior decorator Miles Redd, and he said that luxury today means "not rushing." I was so struck by this because truer words were never spoken. There are ads, one after another these days, for luxurious holiday gifts such as diamonds, cars and cellphones. These items don't touch me at all as luxury--I wear fake diamonds, I don't know how to drive--let alone desire a car, and my cellphone came free with my contract. (It has been called "the disco Barbie phone" because it's pink and really no frills.) But to not rush, to have time and space and a place to sit and breathe and think is truly my most coveted gift. It's the Tickle Me Elmo, the Furby, the iPad of my era.

And by the same token, maybe as much as I want to, I have to not rush the teeth. This blog has allowed me to take my time and space and sit and breathe with all that is unsolved in my mind and body. This is a gift in its own way, and my unfettered mouth will be a gift I'll enjoy in nine months. (Make all the comparisons you want to that timeframe.)

I hope Santa gets you your most coveted gift this year. And luxurious amounts of time to enjoy it.