Thoughts from the ditch

Last night I was one of the cars you see on the local news which spun out of the road. Being stuck for 2 hours in a ditch by a highway, facing oncoming traffic, in a snow storm (even a puny, Richmond one) gives you time to reflect a little.

First the positives - I made much headway into Gulliver's Travels. I have it on my Kindle and so I had some good reading material. It was nice to be able to just sit and read - what else was I to do?

It says something that the only way I get to sit still for a couple of hours to read in peace and quiet is when I am stuck in a ditch.

Now for the more bizarre parts. The police was very prompt, and even prompter issuing me a ticket (court summons really) for "reckless driving"...what?

After about an hour (and countless cars, including many of my co-workers) a guy stopped with his pick-up truck, and said that for $30 dollars he would tow me out. That's the spirit! Spirit of something, but perhaps not Christmas.

After that another half an hour and a lady stops to make sure I am ok. Very nice. After her another pickup truck - also wanting money. Then a towing service. I had called AAA and was waiting for tow, so for a moment there I had a glimmer of hope, but no. The gentleman came out and proceeded to tell me how late AAA was running and how cold it would get in my car. So if I needed any help he would be glad to help me...for a fee.

Finally finally the AAA tow truck shows up (2.5 hours later). he then proceeds to tell me how he woke up feeling really sick and was throwing up all night but that his boss made him come to work anyways. Great! A disgruntled tow truck man. I confess that it did make me a little nervous.

After half an hour of tugging and pulling I was finally set free. Of course with the small glitch that I was now facing incoming traffic, and had to somehow do a 180 in slippery conditions in the middle of a freeway.

But all's well that ends well. Apart from about $1000 of damage to the door of my car, there really was nothing but a lot of sitting and reading, and this small slice of humanity.

What is missing?

A colleague sent me today a link to the story of the sale of the original manuscript of Audubon’s Birds of America.

The book apparently sold for more than $10 million to an anonymous buyer.

What got me going is the sheer size of the thing! Look at it! Huge!

This brought back memories of oversized books. The first books which I remember being oversized were my Dad's collection of Alex Raymond's Flash Gordon comics. They were large books, and it was an incredible pleasure to (almost literally) fall into them.

As an avid Kindle fan, and a general cheerleader for e-books, I got to say that I do not miss print books at all...until I am faced with an object of such obvious beauty on its own, such as Audubon’s book. The experience of flipping pages of a well-bound book is, in my mind, a form of performance art, of perhaps one of those sculptures which require you to interact with them.

If you have ever held a book which is printed in the finest grade paper and bound with the finest leather you will understand what I mean.

But here's a point: this kinesthetic, sensual experience of flipping pages, smelling the leather, and what-not, has absolutely nothing to do with the content of the work! In fact, while it may bring its own pleasures (and it does) those pleasures are completely external to the experience of the novel - though I can imagine some works where the turning of the page be made into a necessary part of the plot, for example the Choose Your Own Adventure books which I loved as a child. But even then, it is not the issue of the turning of the pages, per se, that matters, but the reader's choice of actions - which can be easily emulated (and even improved) in an electronic format.

So I am left with this vague nostalgic feeling of "something lost" by the transition to e-books, but when I look actively for what exact element is lost, I find nothing.

All that is lost is a physical habit, which can be replaced by another - the stories will go on forever.

The dough takes care of itself

"Ye gods! But you're not standing around holding it by the hand all this time. No. (...) [T]he dough takes care of itself. (...) While you cannot speed up the process, you can slow it down at any point by setting the dough in a cooler place (...) then continue where you left off, when you are ready to do so. In other words, you are the boss of that dough." (Julia Child)

Here we are, well into Advent, and in my house this means the most disruptive smells of my wife's baking: cookies, breads, cakes, and various other delectables. It is impossible not to be carried away with their smells, and the mind goes off in many a gustatory reverie.

I remember trying to read a theology book ("For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy" by Alexander Schmemann) which began by saying "You are what you eat." And then went on to talk about the Eucharist. I could not go much further as the impact of that thought arrested me. We all know the saying about being what we eat, but I had never thought about its implications for the Communion bread. If I am eating God (in a sense) then...

But let us go a little further. You not only are what you eat, but you function on what you eat as well. We all have heard about the positive (or detrimental) effects of diet on mental as well as physical performance. Could there be, I wonder, I connection between spiritual performance and diet?

Taking this to another level, very few of us eat what is unappetizing. Yes, some of us had to learn to like this or that food - mostly because of parental enforcement or medical enforcement (I am yet to meet someone who actively enjoys Metamucil for example). Eating is one of the earliest forms of socialization. I remember my shock and horror the first time I tried Bovril on toast...if you do not know what Bovril on toast is like I would recommend you contact Br. Bede and Sr. Therese who I am certain will be able to regale you with culinary tales to fire your imagination (you can also go to the Bovril Shrine here: http://www.medianet.ca/bovril/bovril.htm).

On our last trip to visit my family in Brasil I introduced my wife to a culinary treat of ours called "farofa." She pithily described it as "eating sand"...it is toasted manioc flour - and that's pretty much it, though there are regional variations where things like bacon are added to it. Usually the kids bread a banana on the flour and eat it! Yum! She was not so impressed.
Of course, the most perfect food for our spiritual bodies has to be Eucharist. Whether you are a Tridentine Catholic, serious Oxford Movement Anglican, a no-candles-on-the-altar Calvinist or something in between, the sharing of a meal together as Christians in remembrance of Christ's sacrifice is the most nutritious aliment known to humankind.

So for these last couple of weeks as our heads swim in Christmas cookies, puddings, turkey or ham, candy canes and other such wonderful things, take some time to (re)watch Babette's Feast.

Also pause and consider: could all this pleasurable eating be a kind of thinking? Or, conversely, what kind of thinking is fueled by all this good eating? Nowadays we talk a lot about different types of intelligence - things like musical intelligence and kinesthetic intelligence and, of course, the old emotional intelligence. Is there such a thing as "foodie intelligence"? Can pleasure be a form of thinking? Further, should you seek/expect pleasure from sacraments?

The Romance languages, like French and Portuguese, have different words for pleasure ("plaisir" and "jouissance" in French, "prazer" and "gozo" in Portuguese) - and it makes me wonder - can we re-discover the levels and differences in pleasure (not all are good of course)? It would bring me much pleasure if someone were to write a book which would tease out these differences theologically, similar to what C. S. Lewis did in The Four Loves. Can we write The Four (or Five or Seven) Pleasures? What is contemplative pleasure anyway? I believe the answer to this last one is encompassed by the Julia Child quote above!