Recently I splurged on a bagel and eggs for breakfast instead of my standard oatmeal. Spreading the butter on my bagel, I remembered that butter is scarce in wartime. Impossible in catastrophe or dire poverty.
I imagined the people in Japan, and their deep, wide, concentrated suffering. I pictured people elsewhere in the world who live without clean water or enough to eat. Many will never taste luxuries like a bagel with butter.
I ate my buttered bagel for them: the ones who are suffering, whose bellies are empty. For those who are shellshocked, lost, afraid, or in desperate grief.
As I tasted each bite for them, my breakfast became more than mere food: it became a prayer, a gift to the field that unites all life. We can never know if a gift like that received (I send $$ too.) But I believe that when any of us cherishes life, life itself is fed.
Whatever we have – the freedoms we enjoy, the Grace that has befallen us – our hearts open like a flower when we feel gratitude. To enjoy this life – exactly as it is – on a deep cellular level: that is a gift that feeds the spark.