There is something very meditative in the process of rinsing rice; it is like time slows down, just me and the bowl, experiencing the cold water between my fingers, letting the rice rattle around, feeling the grains touching my skin. And repeating the process, rinse wash rinse – there is something very meditative about rinsing rice.
Since meeting my wife I no longer do meditation every day; I rinse rice. And I feel so much happier. Maybe there is no correlation, but the two statements are true, uncorrelated or not. Sometimes cause and effect, reason and result, are not important – only the present is. And if the present is rinsing rice, then that is what matters. That is where the meaning of life resides.
Rinsing rice for my wife has given my life a sense of purpose I have not had before. And rinsing rice for our baby just exponentially grows that sense of purpose – it is truly amazing being given the opportunity to, almost day by day, feel how my perspective of life is changing, how changing priorities nudges me away from what is known and safe, nudges me into the path of new experiences, new challenges; a new life that swoops me up and carries me like an overflowing river into an unknown part of existence.
There is something very meditative in experiencing the power of life in a grain of uncooked rice; there are different words in Japanese for cooked and uncooked rice. So much to mediate on.
Share this post