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Down to Emmanuel College again for a BBQ then the first worship service of the new academic year, including communion. Afterwards, me and my camera meandered over to College and Spadina to the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (formerly the Clark Institute of Psychiatry) for 2 hours of “mindfulness.” The building has an imposing facade and institutional feel to it — not the kind of place one would expect something as soft and woolly as eastern meditation techniques.

Mindfulness is a positive and independent approach to relapse prevention for people who have suffered multiple bouts of major depression. U. of T.’s Varsity newspaper ran a piece on it earlier this year. Joining this group for 8 weeks seemed like a natural way to round out my 18 weeks of CBT. Last week was the first meeting. If you check out the mindfulness link, you’ll find them talking about the raisin. That’s how things began for us — just hold a raisin in the palm of your hand and begin to explore it as fully as you can. Look at its texture, the contrast of light and dark. Be aware, also, of any thoughts that arise in response to your observations. For example, maybe the wrinkled texture reminds you of aging and evokes anxieties about your own situation or stage of life. Then we moved on to actively touching the raisin, poking and prodding it. Ultimately, we set the raisin on our tongue, felt its texture in the mouth, bit into it, tasted it, chewed it, swallowed it, and examined the aftertaste. Afterwards, we discussed how we felt as we approached the exercise. What did we think? What did that make us feel? I said that setting the raisin on my tongue felt like a ritual — like taking communion.

Last week we left with homework. We had to set aside time each day to do a body scan with a CD guide. There are lots of yoga—based body scans out there. In addition, we had to choose a routine activity and do it mindfully, trying to be fully present to whatever we chose as our focus. Finally, we had to eat one meal mindfully, as if each bite were a raisin to be watched, touched, sniffed, tasted. This was a problem for me. With the kids just starting a new season of gymnastics and trampoline, we’re running them around 6 days of the week. It’s hard to be mindful of anything when you’re rushing to get out the door. I thought I’d have to renege on the last piece of homework, but the perfect opportunity arose without any planning on my part. We met in Emmanuel College’s chapel and shared communion. If ever there was a full meal that demands our presence at the table! I am amazed at how much a simple raisin yields. How much more when the meal takes in 2,000 years and some of the most potent metaphors, symbolism, meanings, mysticism ever to appear on this planet. Set all that on your tongue!

I can’t report that I was magically transported or that the earth moved beneath my feet. In some respects, the feast was simple, almost mundane. They offered gluten—free bread, for which I was grateful, but gluten—free bread is about as simple and bland a food as you are ever likely to swallow. But communion isn’t about great events. We can’t possibly be wholly present to god because that would entail the possibility that we can encompass god. Instead, I view the ritual — eating a raisin or swallowing some bread — as somehow stripping away all the clutter that keeps us from a deeper touch, a more satisfying taste, a fuller apprehension. Eating the body readies us, as vessels, to receive the spirit.

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