What’s in the fridge? Never thought about it before, but the fridge is a place of constant change. What a teacher of impermanence! We put things in there to make their state at least more semi-permanent, though change continues to occur at 39 or 40 degrees. It’s clear that some of the lettuce in there may have changed too much.
The blue cheese in the bottom bin continues to ripen, and I gathered the harvest of several months of new blue mold last night, in a wonderful creamy taste marbled by the bite of sharp fermentations. The tofu, already overdue, will be eaten with an exciting tang of a small bit of risk, I do so like to break the rules. The oat milk bottle stack in there like soldiers or sardines, and their number gives me motivation to keep on drinking before impermanence makes it mark upon them too strongly. There is no danger of too much change in the oatmeal in the tub that I made only two days ago, that won’t last the weekend, as it joins their partners the walnuts, the hemp hearts, and the frozen blueberries for breakfast each day.
When you think about it, the fridge is grand central station. Most things, hopefully, don’t stay too long, and even if they do, there will be a constant stream of new things to replace them. Colorful. Fresh. Nourishing. Enticing. With flavors both simple and complex. With carbs and fats and proteins in such a rich array it is no wonder I, along with the rest of the nation, am a little bit overweight.
What a cornucopia of streaming in and streaming out of riches that ancestors even 60, 80 years ago would have thought, like my father when he saw a man on the moon on TV in 1969 and said: “This is Buck Rogers stuff.” Yes, our reality is something that would only be a dreamed for fantasy that long ago. And yet I go in and out of the fridge with a lot of ho hum and a little bit of worry as to what must be consumed rapidly to avoid the sin of waste.
The bigger waste would be to affirm that “too much ho hum” when I open the fridge. What a miracle, what a marvel. Food: raising it, transporting it, having enough of it, having food from all over the world at my teeth tips, these are not my issues. I simply open the fridge. Yes, that is what I should do perhaps, open it more simply. See the marvels there as just that, miracles that knowledge, effort and cooperation have created, just so I can enjoy my day and be nourished. It is a treasure chest, that fridge. If I wanted to, I could start a relationship with the fridge. One of wonder, appreciation, and understanding of how much I have been given, and how much more I could receive, were I available.
I do well at somethings, working on mindfulness. Somehow, though, the fridge has been a black box, even though it is white.
Taking the worry away, and allowing for wonder, that is pretty much the game in all things. But I am glad that I have been reminded to write about the fridge which has been a blind spot for me. It is a place where I usually try to juggle and exercise utility. In fact, the best use of the fridge is to understand it is a place of full stop that, when properly regarded, could take my breath away as it puts a smile upon my face. A place where there is nothing to do but celebrate Thanksgiving Every Day.