Peanut Butter and Jelly

    I like a good peanut butter and jelly sandwich. On a dense multigrain bread, spread with a natural crunchy peanut (or almond) butter and a good jelly or jam. Always the added kick of tabasco sauce to delight my mouth. I have it with a cup of a coffee, a lemonade or just cold water. If I'm calm enough (a rare thing), I eat the sandwich slowly, savoring the bites. If I'm really awake (even rarer), I gratefully think of the chain of people who contributed to this sandwich, this drink, and the home or work space where I'm enjoying it. Once in a while I even remember to say grace. Oops. Busted.
    Part of the reason for this project is that many people don't find traditional spiritual words or the communities that use them very important. And it seems to me that something may be missing that's worth looking for. Maybe at Christmas or the high holidays we connnect a little with our childhood religious "homes," or when we do the rituals around someone's wedding or funeral. "I'll say a prayer for you," can sound odd or quaint, but touching coming from friends or colleagues. Still,  the religious section in the greeting card aisle keeps shrinking.
    So where do we go? What do we do, if anything, to deal with the big and little things in life which religion once seemed to cover so naturally. Where do we find meaning? Love? Depth? Commemoration? Comfort? Hope?
    I start from where I am. A simple meal like that sandwich connects me to the whole world, the whole universe really. Just letting the chatter in me wind down for a moment allows me to get things like connection or significance, experience them and not just think about them. Going deeper, if my nervous, distracted spirit allows, can help me start to notice things, outside in, inside out. I look. I am aware. I listen for the sounds and for the silences between the sounds. I wonder.....what? Not just wonder about or if, but just wonder, ponder. Wow, that sounds stuffy, but it feels true.
    Here's a good question to open myself: what delights me? Maybe it's the smile of a lover or friend or baby. The antics of a dog desperate for me to pay attention and play. A kid who rolls her eyes at some grownup bit of foolishness of mine. Evening descending over a city or town. A piece of New Orleans jazz or Louisiana zydeco. The taste of a really fresh salad. If I can be delighted by such things, the deeper parts of me don't seem so far away.
    My spirit, that deeper part of me, is alive so long as my heart can soften enough to notice and ponder a little. Eating a good PB&J mindfully is a place to start.