At my weekend retreats, we eat lunch together. At the last lunch, I bring in a flourless chocolate cake. Before anyone eats the cake, I ask them to look at it and be aware of how they feel. Some people realize they are full and don't want to eat dessert. Some don't like chocolate (they are missing a gene, I am certain). And some start worrying about getting enough before they take even one bite.
Then I ask those who want a piece of the cake to take it. To notice how it feels to cut a slice, put it on their plates, walk back to their seats. Before they eat it, I ask them to breathe a few times. (Breathing helps. It always helps. It allows you to stop the automatic hand-to-mouth momentum. It allows you a few seconds of being present instead of racing around in your head and telling yourself that you shouldn't be doing what you are doing. That you don't deserve this bite, this piece, this pleasure.)
Finally, I ask everyone to scoop a bite of the cake onto their fork and move it to their mouth. One bite. Then I ask them to really, truly allow themselves to taste the whole range of sensations that are in one bite. The way the chocolate explodes on their tongue, the way it feels on the sides of their mouth. How the taste changes from moment to moment, what it feels like in their throat, the lingering taste of it after they've swallowed.
We eat each bite slowly, as if heaven existed right here, right now, and we deserved to experience it.
Why you should have what you love