Time to Dine

A few days ago at the restaurant, I was checking up on a dining couple as they were completing their meals. I asked how everything was, to which the woman replied: “I’m still finishing up; sorry!” This is not an uncommon trend; often diners will apologize for eating slowly, or for not being finished by the time I visit.



This led me to ponder the relationship between food and time. There is a considerable degree of urgency in some folks to consume their meals as quickly as possible. If that urgency isn’t overtly evident, it often still manifests in the form of an apology for taking their time. I wondered if there was biological bearing for this tendency; it doesn’t seem unusual to suppose the existence of an inherent impulse in humans to absorb resources as quickly as possible, lest they be taken away. However, it also struck me that food is considered by many to be more of a necessity than an experience. Food is often a chore: something to check off of the lengthy and demanding list of “to do’s”. Hence the multitude of convenience appliances, as well as instant and available, which trim the ordeal of a meal to an efficient and manageable morsel of time.



Never mind the fact that eating quickly actually inhibits healthy digestion, especially if the rushed consumption of the meal is followed by the rushed pursuit (and conquering) of other “to do’s”. If stress is factored into the act of eating, our bodies will not absorb the nutrients as well, and our connection with the food itself will be impoverished through our disassociation with it. We will miss the experience of nourishing ourselves by displacing our awareness too much in our thoughts, and not enough in what truly feeds us. Moreover, we will not feel grateful for the abundance, and even sacrifice with which every bite is invested. Without that, not only our experience, but the very life-force of the food itself, will, somehow, be rendered infertile.



The wealth of food, like time, depends upon our perspectives. If we regard it as scarce, we will devour it, hoard it, consume and burn it up in an attempt to have some kind of security. If we regard it as abundant, we will, perhaps, savor it, knowing that there is always more. When there is more of time, there is no need to rush; when there is more of food, there is no need to hoard. Presence in the moment begets appreciation, and that opens us to receiving fully the gift of our food. A willingness to be present reminds us that taking the time to cherish our food is something for which to thank ourselves, and never, never apologize.