[CH] Thanks for the Bread
Gary Allen (gary.allen@usa.net)
Mon, 5 Jan 1998 23:24:07 -0500
Jim, and Various and Sundry ChileHeads,
The new year should be especially prosperous since I ate my allotment of
Hoppin' John (with chipotle) on the first... and on the second, a box
arrived containing my slice of JIM'S RED SAVINA BREAD.
It seems that I've been reading about the eucharist of the Transcendental
Capsaicinophilic Society forever. In a sense, all those reports of the
ChileHeads that preceded me have been a kind of catechism, preparing me for
the day when I myself would open that understated plain brown (a color like
a monk's robe) box and experience the truth of El Grande.
Like all great transformative rituals, there is a moment when one's mind
penetrates the mystical trappings and sees that the sacred vestments and
magical equipment are just clothes and dishes... and that we're just
people, play-acting at the miraculous. "What's the big deal?", we ask.
That's what happened when I pulled out some ordinary newspaper and lifted
out the zip-lock bag.
The bag was marked with a simple, self-effacing "Happy New Year." On
January second, that greeting is not much more than a cliche.
Profoundly skeptical and irreligious thoughts, such as: "How hot could it
be, really?" came to mind. I opened the bag and took a deeply agnostic
sniff. It had a pleasantly nutty, yeasty smell... like home-made
whole-wheat bread with a touch of molasses. It was as ordinary and
reassuring as home itself.
I broke off a small corner (just as, supposedly, there are no atheists in
foxholes... there seemed to be no good reason for taunting the deity during
the services). Another sniff confirmed that this was, indeed, an empty
ritual, devoid of real meaning. I popped it into my mouth and chewed it up.
As I said, the rituals that mark the major transitions in our lives (the
bris or baptism, the initiations of all kinds, the wedding, the funeral)
are really rather ordinary human exercises, gussied up to look as if
something magical is taking place. I silently congratulated myself for
being above such silliness.
For about one second.
I recognized another flavor behind the wholesome wheat and molasses of the
bread. I knew this flavor, but there was something unfamiliar about it. It
was very fruity... and yet there didn't seem to be any fruit in the bread.
Perhaps that's what it was... a familiar flavor that tasted different
because there was much more of it than I usually tasted.
St. Paul walking along the road, Moses staring into the burning bush,
Gautama sitting beneath the sacred Bo tree, Newton under his apple tree...
any of them would have smiled and nodded at the flash of insight I
experienced when I realized what that flavor was.
I knew that taste, alright. It was exactly the same as the ethereal trace
of sweetness that hovered over the most incredibly hot foods I had ever
eaten. But this was not a trace. It was a full mouthful of flavor.
It signified a truly humongous dose of pure essence of habanero.
I'm certain that when Buddha recognized that all was one, he was
simultaneously able to fully comprehend and assimilate all the suffering of
the world. Likewise, my recognition of that habanero flavor was accompanied
by a complete understanding of what was about to happen to my corporeal
self.
I was about to become enlightened.
For a brief moment, a healthy and natural cowardice wanted to cry out, "I'm
not worthy!", but the perfect inevitability of the force that carried me
like a tsunami of bliss/pain/transfiguration stifled my voice.
Or maybe it was just that I hadn't thought to breathe.
Fifteen minutes later, my head soaked with penitential sweat, my pulse
slowing to measurable levels, my conversion complete, I realized that --
yes -- the trappings of our rituals are indeed mundane, even tawdry. But if
one, properly prepared, peeks behind the tacky vestments and brassy
thingamabobs, one finds there revealled a brilliant ineffable something --
something that is hidden to those who are just smart enough to see the
shallow gleam of brass.
Gary Allen, neophyte and former Unbeliever