Dispatch #5: The Last of the Gummies!

What Can You Live Without?

All the gummies are gone. Now what?

How to deal with that itch-urge to snack in between meals?

How often do you even notice that itch-urge? Maybe for you it’s not a tug-push to eat, but perhaps to smoke, drink, or NetFlix binge. Maybe to exercise, work, or doom-scroll.

The Tibetan word for this itch-urge is shenpa. I first heard this word back in December 2009 while studying at Gampo Abbey with the profoundly radiant Ven. Pema Chödrön. You can read an essay in Lion’s Roar that she wrote on how we get hooked on harmful patterns of body, speech, and mind.

“Sometimes shenpa is so strong that we’re willing to die getting this short-term symptomatic relief. The momentum behind the urge is so strong that we never pull out of the habitual pattern of turning to poison for comfort.”—Pema Chodron in Lion’s Roar, Jan. 13, 2023

Before I came to live at a monastery in 2008, I had 24-hour access to any type of food I wanted. I’m hugely privileged in this way. I’ve never known hunger like my father did, who was born during the Great Depression, or my spouse, who lived in Moscow when the Soviet Union imploded and there was no food in the shops. As we all know, millions of people around the world go hungry every day.

At Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, we neither have access to the kitchen nor do we control what we eat and when we eat. Does any anxiety arise when you think-feel about this? Not being in control of a basic necessity for survival. The wonderful kitchen crew, led by the head cook or tenzo, prepares three meals a day for the sangha, which we mostly eat in the meditation hall.

Traditionally, when we trek down to Tassajara from San Francisco we make a pit stop at Morgan Hill to fuel up and, more importantly, to stock up at Trader Joe’s. On this most recent foray, I exercised tremendous restraint while at TJ’s and did not buy bags of crunchy things. I bought some organic carrot juice, organic beet juice, four Olipop sodas, and four bars of chocolate.

Full transparency: I did not purchase the gummy bears in the photo. A bag of them was left at the “back door”: this is where non-kitchen crew members can enter the non-working space of the kitchen and retrieve fruit, rice cakes, leftovers, and any goodies that generous (or desperate) folks have shared. I thought the gummies would make a fun photo, but it didn’t turn out as wonderful as the vision in my head—that’s true of many things.

The monastic container is a powerful mirror for the heart-mind-body because it reduces distractions and limits choices. When I’m heading to the back door in between meals, I try to remember to check in with myself to see if I’m really hungry. Or am I just bored? Or stressed? Or just on automatic, shenpa-pilot?

It’s not that I was unaware of being hooked on eating before being a monk, it’s just the monastic container makes it easier to study the arising self that seeks psycho-emotional comfort from being a snack-a-holic :>)

As a kid in New York, Carvel Flying Saucers were my go-to summer shenpa snack!

What I know from having purchased many crunchy, salty snacks and lotsa chocolate on the Trader Joe’s forays is that no matter what I buy or how much I buy, one truth persists: It always runs out. When it does, I’m left right where I was before the snack splurge:

I am left with who I am. Right. Where. I am.

What can you live without? What keeps you from being with that which causes you discomfort? What is the hunger of mind?

Here’s and idea to consider, estimate how much money you spend a month on eating non-essential food—you can decide what falls into this category—and offer this amount to a non-profit that provides food and services to those who are starving. For your convenience, here are a few links below:

• The UN World Food Program

• International Rescue Committee

• Move For Hunger

• Action Against Hunger

• Heifer International

While I was participating in the winter 2019 practice period at Tassajara, I organized a group donation to support the Tibetan Nuns Project. The idea sprang from remorse for having spent $15 on a pint of fancy-schmancy ice cream in San Francisco. As a community, we ended up supporting several nuns for one year. I also began contributing $50 a month to support one nun and have been doing this ever since. It’s almost a 10% tithe of my monthly income.

And thank you! if you’re already contributing to a non-profit that’s dedicated to assisting our brothers and sisters who are in need. All of us go hungry spiritually when others are hungry physically.

Good-bye and good riddance Olipop!

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