Blog Post

As a Chef and writer I can’t help but notice the idiosyncrasies of mankind, or for that matter womankind around and about—walking, talking, driving, shopping or eating.  They fascinate me and they’re the reason of why I write—people themselves are storybooks in motion.  While in public transit last week I noticed this young, beautiful couple. The girl was in her early twenties with not a single line showing on her face because of the gradient effects of layered foundation.  The man was handsome with just the right amount of frizzed-up gel to give him a rakish air.  Their good looks complimented each other.  Yes, of course they were together but yet they appeared to be completely distant—not a word passed between them as they feverishly typed in text messages…and I kept wondering to whom?  Until the revelation came from the young woman as she snapped at the guy and for the first time, her red lips screwed up in a grimace, she retorted “I did not say that!”  He looked at her, did not know how to possibly react in the real world scenario and went back to texting her in ‘limbo-land’, ‘cyber-land’, or ‘la-la land’ for that matter.  Who cared in that train?  Nobody gave a rat’s whisker but me as I realized I was the only one not glued to my phone, laptop, tablet or computer game.  

So this weekend I decided to test myself, to take a determined sabbatical from technology and to put the penance into effect, this is what I did: The night before the acid test I locked my phone and laptop into my desk drawer, and hoped to throw the key into the sea.  But instead placed it into the lovely manicured hands of my beloved wife.  I woke up the next morning reaching for the non-existent phone on the bedside table (I use my phone as an alarm).  I felt the oncoming assaults of cold turkey technology (if it can be called that).  Fighting off the symptoms I made breakfast, drank the coffee and ate the toast—all the while thinking of how great the salty flavour and aroma of the butter that I had slathered on the crisp bread was.  I was beginning to notice things; my 5 senses that were not too long ago hijacked by technology were beginning to rejuvenate.  And my 6^th sense; yes, the one that was on the mute button because of the onslaught of technology began to re-surface.

I opened the shutters and peered at the plants outside.  The basil was growing in abundance, the mint had taken over the cilantro’s terrain, the green tomatoes were getting bigger on the vine and I noticed one acquiring the blush of nascent red.   Good Lord! Was I beginning to get excited!  I opened the porch doors and sat in the garden admiring the butterflies, the bees that were hovering around, a couple of chattering robins and the visiting sparrows.  I closed my eyes and meditated and prayed for a while and broke out of my reverie when a spider mistaking my hand for support began to weave, and spin its web.

Throwing it on to a branch, I stood up and decided to go for a morning walk to the nearest park. There was a light breeze blowing and it’s an absolutely perfect day.  One of those kinds you truly miss when winter makes her appearance. Twittering black birds greeted me; a few squirrels looked up in surprise, and then begged for tidbits, a racoon tilted its head to peer at me. There’s the sound of silence only broken with a few accents in animal language.  And I realize I’m singing out aloud—all in a baritone only otherwise reserved for the shower.  

A couple of cackling ducks look annoyed as I’ve probably taken away their spotlight.  The branches of a tree bend down to nuzzle my face, and I spot a Mulberry bush.  Within no time I am eating the wild ripe sweet berries.   A chipmunk looks at me, and goes on nibbling the fruit, a couple of birds decide to join the feast and a hare makes a sudden hop and a jump and disappears into an Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole.

I move on mindful of leaving the rest of the fruit for the animal kingdom, and then in a feeling beyond words, a revelatory moment as it were; I spot the bush of wild roses.  It’s mesmerizing and hypnotic—colors I’ve never seen before oscillate before my eyes.  And as I bend down to sniff the fragrance of the roses, memories of my childhood begin to surface like a literal picture-perfect-postcard —of parks and gardens, flora and fauna, and a true love for nature and its Creator. 

A teardrop falls on the petals and I know that it’s pure unadulterated, ecstatic joy.  And no amount of technology is going to rob me of this cherished experience. Ever.