Caviar Vs. Heaven: Savor Before The Crave
Craving is concerned with acquiring or maintaining some desirable object or situation for “me” and “mine,” which may be threatened by “the other.” One assumes that desirable qualities are inherent in the object desired and then exaggerates these qualities, while ignoring or deemphasizing that object’s undesirable aspects... [Craving] falsely displaces the source of one’s well being from one’s own mind to objects.
- Paul Ekman et al. (2005)1
I love caviar, particularly after I discovered the proper technique to eat it. Only the first three bites matter:
The first bite surprises and shocks me. I am amazed at the slimy brine and the lumpy texture as my tongue pops the tiny eggs against the roof of my mouth. I salivate for the second bite even as the first bite continues. Because of the surprise, I know I missed something.
The Talking Head’s sing,2
Heaven, heaven is a place where nothing, nothing ever happens.
The last taste of the first bite fades. I wait until longing becomes palpable. “Don't talk to me!”
As I bring the slim, polished mother-of-pearl spoon to my mouth for the second bite, I recognize lust - the open mouth, the pursed lower lip, the little tremble. No surprise this time. My attention is aroused and the anticipation exquisite.
The second taste is bigger, more nuanced. I push the little eggs around and feel their silky delicacy against my tongue. I break them against the enamel of my teeth. I pop several at a time, a few at a time, one at a time. Each burst counts time. Many eggs lie in one spoonful.
The second taste was like re-reading a great book, the jokes got funnier, the emotions richer, the drama more poignant, and the resolution more fulfilling. If in the first reading, I saw myself, in the second I can see beyond myself.
The Talking Heads sing,
When this kiss is over it will start again
It will not be any different, it will be exactly the same
It’s hard to imagine that nothing at all could be so exciting, could be this much fun
Heaven, heaven is a place, a place where nothing, nothing ever happens
Longing now grows into a sharper craving, as if life without caviar would be blander. Indeed, doesn’t my amazement belong to the caviar? I indulge the fantasy of keeping a stock of the finest caviar. This wishful thinking is like thoughts of marriage during a first date.
I shovel out another scoop. The third bite, like the first, starts with the caviar. The flavors and the textures are familiar. I’m less interested in the popping. Instead, I try to project the experience of the second taste into this moment. The third bite is great to be sure, but does not compare.
I know to redouble my mindfulness for bite number four. The effort matters not. Familiarity washes away intention. I'm eating, not savoring. And frankly, the slimy brine, the cornerstone to caviar's essential nature, is now too gooey and too salty. The experience was already complete.
"What were you saying," I ask. As we talk on, I forget my plans to order caviar.
The first three bites of good chocolate are as important as the first three are for caviar. Savor, otherwise you'll miss it.
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Ekman P, Davidson RJ, Ricard M, et al. Buddhist and Psychological Perspectives on Emotions and Well-Being. Society. 2005;14(2):59-63. ↩
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Heaven is a great song by any measure. Two other Talking Head’s songs I love are Once In A Lifetime and This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody). These three songs together convey more insight and wisdom than a clutch of self-help books. Also, I must admit that I like Shawn Colvin’s cover of This Must Be The Place as least as much at the original. ↩
Musings
Reader Comments (2)
EXACTLY. :)
I need to go find a copy of that song....thanks!
Ah ha,
Now I know what's happening when I eat ice cream. Or brownies, or truthfully anything. Hmmmm No doubt mindfully eating only three bites of anything will change my eating experience. Or perhaps I should focus on changing the eating habit.
Interesing, Thanks for the food for thought.
Gayle