Want to go check out the smart phones? K asked this morning. I do but its cold, I responded. He nodded, maybe tomorrow.
Today my internet inexplicably left the building taking with it my voice-over-IP phone. And my iPod? It traveled, along with my cell phone, to parts unknown. The baby slept next to the television so I dared not turn it on.
So for the first time in weeks, I cooked without the aid of diversions so ever present you forget this is what they are and you fail to realize how much you miss like the click-click of the gas as it sputters to blue-life. The dry rice as it clatters into the bowl. Water splashing my fingers as I fill a pot. The smell of the chili as it leaves the overturned spoon in my hand into the stainless steel pot. The bubbles in the water and how they grow larger as the water transforms to steam and the inevitable imperceptible pop as they burst only to reform a hundred times over.
As I stirred, and poured, and measured, and washed, I felt a strange feeling I have not felt in some time, a meditative calm where you suddenly see your life in sharp focus.
Prophet Muhammad went to Mount Hira and
Moses went to Mount Sinai
to think and reflect
because it is only in silence that we can connect with that which is beyond us.
Standing on the cool tiles of my kitchen as I looked out to the sun setting pink in the sky while I chop onions and stir rice, I will not pretend to reach any conclusion quite so deep, but I realized: I must cook in silence more often.
And that I will not be getting a smart phone.