On Being Lightened

Enlightenment, disparate threads, swirling patterns, chili

Almost two years ago, when I started writing more seriously in this newsletter — as opposed to just hastily writing recipes and sending them to Mrs. CWD and the five other friends I convinced to subscribe — I wrote several essays circling around the idea of enlightenment. One of those first “real” essays centered around a question: “If you think you’ve reached enlightenment, can you actually be enlightened?”

I think about that question a lot.

As I alluded to last week, after five days in Maine thinking like a deer for most of my waking hours, I got to contenplating about how it’s seemed that all these disparate ideas I’ve been thinking about — pondering, really — are starting to seem like they are coalescing into one overarching idea. All these things I’ve read and watched and lived are slowly merging into the concept of “radical living¹.” It’s been endlessly fascinating for me to watch that concept come together.

And I do mean watch it come together. Lately, I’ve had the sensation of seeing² these ideas moving and swirling around, interacting with one another, growing and reorganizing themselves around a central point. There’s a sense of connection between all these pieces — the Spirit of the Hunt, radical eating, Stoicism, the interplay of samsara and nirvana, Mushashi and Saltwater Buddha, Rick Rubin and the Tao Te Ching. I sometimes have to stop myself to wonder if I might just be imagining these things, pinning strings between unrelated ideas, searching for Pepe Silvia. That’s what happens when you — as the eponymous character of the aforementioned samurai novel would say — think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world.

Which, by the way, is an adage I try to live by.

I still don’t think I’ve truly reached enlightenment³. But, as I said to

Sam Sager

as I was driving home from Maine, I do think that I’ve gotten a little more lightened over the last few years. I think it’s allowed me to take a broader perspective, look at things with a wider angle of vision, see from above those different points of view. And, counterintuitively, I think it’s also allowed me to stay more grounded. It’s given me a more stable foundation.

If I were a more ambitious writer, I might try to tease out this juxtaposition. Write about the push and pull of airiness and groundedness, the inspiration from on high and the foundation from below. I might even try to draw a parallel to the idea of yin and yang, of balance in nature — of thinking like a mountain, timeless, with peaks in the sky and roots digging into the mantle.

I could try to make all those connections, but doing so might be like flying too close to the sun, might snap me out of my reverie, and lead me to fall back down to Earth⁴. And that would leave me right where I started: wondering about enlightenment.

One thing we didn’t wonder about this week was what to eat. Having gotten our first frost this week, Mrs. CWD and I figured it would be perfectly appropriate to make our first batch of chili for the season. Given our preponderance of ground beef in the fridge, I used four pounds of it in the recipe — leaving us with enough leftover to feed us for most meals. In the grand scheme of things, there could be worse meals to be stuck with, but I am glad to be nearing the finish line.

If you are so, too, inclined to make chili this weekend, here’s how you might do it. Feel free to use as much or as little meat as you’d like.

In a large pot over medium, add about two pounds of ground beef. Break up the meat into large chunks and let brown. Push to the sides and add one or two roughly chopped onions and a little garlic, cooking until fragrant and then stirring together with the meat. Season liberally with salt, pepper, cumin, and chili powder (or just use a pre-made chili mix). Add in two cans of diced tomatoes and bring to a boil. Cut to a simmer and add a can of beans⁵ (drained), and then let this whole thing rip for an hour or three.

Top with sour cream and cheese and rve with fresh bread, biscuits, tortillas, or whatever you like to eat with your chili.

There you go, folks: chili.

I don’t have too much else for you. When you read this, I’ll be sitting in the woods, manifesting a deer. If it chooses to arrive on time, or not, is up to the universe.

Whether this weekend will find you taking to the woods or exploring a city, I’d encourage you to zoom out a bit and try to take a lighter view of things. Think deeply, yes — but don’t take yourself too seriously.

We’ll see you back here next week.

1. Not bad for a phrase I coined in response to the idea of eating locally and seasonally, huh?

2. This is especially interesting because I’m pretty sure I have aphantasia, which is the inability to form pictures in my mind. I can conceptualize what something should look like, but I can’t form a picture with any vividness.

I was shocked when I learned that this isn’t how most people imagine the world. For most of my life, I thought visualization was a metaphor!

3. Though if I had, I’d still be here chopping wood, carrying water, and writing essays each week.

4. This paradox is kind of like the flow state — something you can’t consciously force yourself into. It’s something that needs to come on naturally.

John Dailey

describes it in his book Tough Rugged Bastards as “where absolutely nothing exists outside the present moment and action is autonomic.” And as soon as you realize you’re in it, it’s probably gone.

5. Yes, I know a true Texas chili doesn’t have beans.