April 8, ’18 On Any Given Sunday

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Vichy Catalan

For the Love of Life

Sky is clear and wind is calm. Spotted an osprey on wing over our boat. An auspicious sighting of a fishing bird destination unknown. Common terns are busy too. Oyster catchers paired and mated chase each other from the breakwater to the shoreline and back. Everything alive must have got the same memo that it’s Sunday.

My triple threat for the day is to continue reading Mailer’s Armies in the Night, go for a brisk long hike and not eat too much or the wrong things.

Last night we joined friends dining out on Fourth Street in Berkeley. Success is to not distract by discussions of what  we will and won’t eat. When dining out the cooks are using more salt, sugar and fat. Restaurants do not use less. That’s the state of play here in the Golden State. We have a life to live and they have a business to run. Compromise is required while we all learn to take better care of ourselves and each other. Eating mostly but not always vegan isn’t about beating up everyone out there who isn’t on the same page with all of us loitering here in the institute for nutritional virtue. I can’t say I blame them.

The challenge is much the same as a Sunday. Grace is a healing salve to bestow upon the day. My new diet isn’t so high-minded. I’m eating with care because I need to make better choices about what I put in my mouth. I’m well past the point where I can eat whatever I want. There are days the project is tiresome, dull and frustrating. A substantial portion of the whole of my diet has turned into a grand adventure.

Have compassion for your own life without losing sight of the lives of others. Be a good and happy example and don’t be a wet blanket. I’m not a proud vegan. I’m not a vegan. I eat as I can to what would be called a vegan diet without having my Sunday’s, humor or perspective self-delusionally swept out from beneath the skillful path I seek to set my best foot forward upon.


Opportunity Before Me

Edited Red Star

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