Zen and the Art of ... Gourmet Pretzels?

I recently have taken flight on AirTrain airways. Cheap, simple, low-budget airlines. Of course, if you really want cheap fares, live in London, use RyanAir, and take £0.99 flights! But I digress...

On this Airtran flight, I was served a little packet of "Gourmet Pretzels." Dunno about the gourmet part, (I never ate them) but they seemed to realize that there would be loads of people just sitting there with nothing to do but to eat this little pack of pretzels and read the back of the packet in much the same way people read the back of cereal boxes while eating breakfast. I say this because on the back of the packet were directions for eating them!

Normally, I'm with Douglas Adams concerning the inclusion of instructions for seemingly obvious things... it's a sign that the inmates are running the asylum. For example, on a cup of coffee there's the brain-dead, 'caution! contents are hot!' Doug's personal favourite seemed to be instructions for use on a the side of a box of toothpicks. I agree with Wonko the Sane from Doug's book, HHGTTG, that any society which requires instructions for toothpicks is a society I would rather not be in.

Normally, I'd view instructions for eating a bag of peanuts in the same way, but this particular set of instructions was cheeky and did not take itself seriously; yet, it was filled with profound wisdom. (These two things often run hand in hand.)

The instructions were, as I saw it, simple and practical advice for meditation. Not what you'd expect from your average pretzel! They read:

1. Think about our wonderful low fairs as you open packet.
2. Place pretzel in mouth. With each crunch, be reminded of our low fares.
3. As you swallow, remember again, just how low the fares are.
4. Repeat until the pretzel packet is empty.
5. Keep empty packet to remind yourself to book with us again.

Yeah, okay, so there's an advertisement snuck in there. They were free pretzels, after all, I guess it's their right.

But there in the instructions is a practical guide to meditation which is how to experience the moment of living ... in this case, eating pretzels.

Personally, I try to experience the hardness, the saltiness, the browness, the quality of wheat, the shape, the time it takes to dissolve in my mouth, the feeling of this process, the taste, the aftertaste, etc., however you can also simply lose yourself in thought by focusing on an object - in this case, not the pretzel itself, but the low fares which lead to your enjoyment of said pretzels. (Presumably they don't want you thinking about how if you spent a few extra bucks, you'd be enjoying free wine and a decent meal!)

Also present in the instructions are two key ideas related to meditation: the idea of creating a ritual out of everyday life (by always doing the same set of actions), habitualizing that ritual (repeat until empty), and keeping always present with you the calmness found from meditation (keeping the packet).

If a million monkeys with a million typewriters would eventually rediscover Macbeth, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised if some stuffy airline execs eventually come across such profound insights for everyday living.

Now ... where'd my monkeys run off to?

Autobiography in Five Chapters

I recently came across this poem while reading "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying." I know, light reading. The book begins by saying that the way to best live life is to know and understand death. It goes on to say that most Western folk go out of their way to avoid thinking of death, or even talking about it. This well predicts the reactions on peoples faces when they see what I'm reading.

Why am I reading it? Dunno. Why do we do anything? :) I bought it in London, never had time to read, now I have time, so I guess it's time.

Well, that, and I'm all into Buddhism and Toaism and meditation and such. I'm continually amazed at how the raw fringes of cutting-edge science is uncovering truths long taught by the Eastern mystics - but I'm tangeting...

Anyway, given that tomorrow I embark on a new journey - the start of the rest of my life, I think it's appropriate to repost here.

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Autobiography in Five Chapters
(author unknown (to me))

1) I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost . . . I am hopeless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

2) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
But it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

3) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in . . . it's a habit.
My eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

4) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

5) I walk down another street.