Part 13 – Fat.
“A lot of bread and gangs of meat
Oodles of butter and somethin sweet
Gallons of coffee to wash it down
Bicarbonated soda by the pound
Then throw me smack dab in the middle”
- Joe Williams and the Count Basie Orchestra, written by Charles Calhoun
The Master sat with Oishii in the
dining hall after lunch. The two of them watched Tashiki and Qindao
stare at their plates.
“I am glad that you have stayed on
and taken over the kitchen for us, Oishii,” The Master began.
“Please tell me what those two are doing.”
Oishii gave The Master a brief bow of
thanks and gratitude then began her explanation.
“They have been like this for weeks.
Morning, noon, and night, they have me bring them a single slice of
orange, a solitary leaf of spinach, and one lone grain of rice. They
thank me. I offer them the choices from the menu. They politely
decline. Every time.
“The will take their time to chew on
the spinach leaf. It is raw, mind you. Then they will eat the slice
of orange.
“But that is not the most disturbing
part of their new ritual.
“They leave the grain of rice on the
plate in front of them. Then sit. They stare at their own grain to
the exclusion of all else. We clean around them. Their plates are
barely dirty, so we let them be.
“But that is all they will do. Stare
at that last piece of what passes for their meals recently.”
The Master was concerned. “Do we
know if they are eating outside of the School?”
Oishii shrugged and lifted her hands in
the position that combines the thought of “I hope so” and “I do
not know.”
The two sat for a moment longer to
finish their own after-dinner meditation, and to enjoy the company
they share. A brief hug between The Master and The Cook, “I
appreciate that you brought this to my attention.” Oishii smiled
with hope and concern.
Tashiki and Qindao sat near the end of
the long table, across from each other. This made it cery convenient
for The Master to pull a chair to the table's end and sit ostensibly
between the two.
The two students acknowledged the
presence of their teacher, but said little to him or to each other.
The Master decided that was enough for the moment. Ho took in the
feeling of the moment, of the place. He tried to absorb into himself
what it was that his two students had taken it upon themselves to do.
It felt intense to him, and very confused.
Finally, he asked.
“Gentlemen, what in the name of
Mencius are you doing?”
The students squirmed a little in their
chairs. An explanation was not easily coming from either of them,
but The Master would not stand for silence long. Especially after he
has asked a direct question.
The Master picked Qindao as his target.
He looked at Qindao's eyes even though they made no contact. Qindao
would be come restless under the steady gaze, but it is Tashiki who
gives in to the tactic.
It worked.
“All right! I'll tell you.”
Qindao let out an audible sigh of
relief.
“Sensei, Qindao and I are
unhappy.”
The Master nodded, “That is not news, Tashiki.”
The Master nodded, “That is not news, Tashiki.”
Tashiki continued, “We decided that
we had let ourselves become poisoned by the food we were eating.
There was nothing we could consume that would nourish us and maintain
our health. We could have one or the other. The very act of eating
was destructive to our health.”
The Master started to see where the
confusion came from.
Qindao jumped in, “Instead of taking
in the poison, we decided to focus on the things that we knew we
would need the most. Orange for the citrus, spinach for the iron.
And a single grain of rice.”
Qindao and Tashiki seemed very proud of
themselves. The Master started poking into their theory.
“That part interests me the most.
Only one grain of rice? And you never eat it?”
“That was my idea,” said Tashiki.
All the energy a person could need for a day is contained in a single
grain of rice. You frequently use the rice as a metaphor for
potential. We decided to see how much we could get from a grain by
only letting it fill us with its presence.”
“Boys, you know that's about the
stupidest thing I've heard in a long while.”
“Yes, sensei,” they both said
nearly simultaneously. It was a moment of unwilling truth.
“Why don't you tell me what's really
going on here?”
Qindao started, “Sensei, I dislike
how I feel after I eat. I always have. I can not seem to find the
right combination of foods that will keep me nourished, energetic,
and healthy. I have tried everything. And now, my doctor tells me
that I may have Adult Onset Diabetes and Metabolic Syndrome. You
know how carefully I try to take care of my body, and yet it has come
to this. I feel betrayed, cheated, manipulated, and cornered. All
the choices I made, out of educated regimen or unfortunate ignorance,
and now I am in a position where my body, the very factory that I
cultivate here at the School,is damaged beyond repair. I will die
having seen pieces of my body that I care for so much die before me.
“I am a failure and I do not deserve
to eat.”
The Master let that hang in the air a
moment. Then, “Tashiki?”
“Sensei, it is no secret to you nor
to the other students that my mind is clouded. I study, I learn, I
discover, I can analyze and synthesize with some of the most
elaborate minds that you have brought to us. But every day is a
fight to keep my thoughts organized. Every day is a struggle to
remember what I have learned even the day before. Every day I fight
to make myself remember who it is that I am and to find comfort in
that.
“There is no comfort. I assault my
mind with chemicals, and do what I can to feed my mind with healthy
foods. None of it works. No matter what I eat and how I eat, my
mind continues to race, continues to lie to me, continues to distort
what I see and experience. The food only gives my evil mind more
fuel with which to perpetuate its lies.
“I, too, am a failure and do not
deserve to eat.”
The Master had to take a moment to
collect himself. The pain of his students sank into him. Behind his
thoughtful exterior, he wept.
“So, you two have decided that
starvation is the solution?”
“Yes, Sensei.”
“You will die, you know.”
“Yes, Sensei.”
“You have forgotten pleasure.”
“Yes, Sensei.”
The Master thought one more moment.
“Yes, indeed.”
Thus endeth the lesson. Let us meditate
upon it.
Fat, by The Violent Femmes (Songwriter:
Gordon Gano)
I hope
you got
fat
cause if you got
really fat
you just might want to see me come back
I don't care
how heavy or how skinny
just gimme
something to love
a little extra weight would never look
no nicer on nobody else but you
and I could always use a little bit
more
to hold on to
and if I get a fright in the middle
of the night I'll cling to you
