 In this issue:
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What Remains When The Flavor Fades
Drew Consalvo
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So, where I work, there is a coffee shop attached. This is good news/bad news. I arrive at work with a carafe of strong, French-pressed coffee that I made at home. Thanks to keep-warm technology, that carafe typically lasts until around noon or 1:00 PM. Then I pop over to the coffee shop for my afternoon beverage.
The baristas in the coffee shop are super friendly and most accommodating with beverage suggestions, but I am a creature of habit. Dirty chai latte (two shots) made with oat milk is my afternoon beverage. They always have seasonal offerings, however. By the time you read this, the pumpkin spice has already been on the shelves for six weeks. It arrives in the last gasp of August — while our air conditioners are still running and the tomatoes are picking up speed on the vine — all announcing an autumn that has not yet agreed to show up. There is something almost comical about our collective eagerness. We can’t wait to flavor the season before it arrives, and we’ll be just as ready, come November, to trade it all for peppermint.
I don't say this with disdain towards the pumpkin latte. I had one. It was fine. I say it because the pumpkin spice latte might be one of the most honest teachers we have. It’s impermanence with a marketing budget. It shows up, it’s embraced by some, it becomes ubiquitous, we grow weary of it, and then it vanishes — and the whole cycle is so darn reliable that we can set our calendars to it. Flavor of the month. Then a different flavor. Then that one's month is over too.
A practitioner at a recent Sunday sit was lamenting the felt change in the season. Buddhist practice offers a simple, steadying phrase for exactly this. Ajahn Sumedho used to offer it again and again to his students and my teachers gave it to me - “right now, it is like this.” Not “right now it is wonderful,” not “right now it is unbearable.” Nope. Right now it is like this.
The pumpkin is on the shelf: right now, it is like this. The leaves are still green, then gold, then gone: right now, it is like this. My knee aches on the cushion, the mind is restless, the heart is unexpectedly full: right now, it is like this. The phrase doesn't ask us to enjoy the moment, hate the moment, or fix it. It asks only that we stop arguing with it. That we stop pushing against it.
This is way harder than it sounds, because we are so used to pushing against what we don’t care for and pulling in what we do. We want summer's late sunsets to stay a little longer. We want the ache in the knee to leave sooner. We reach for the next flavor before the current one has even finished, in the same way we scroll toward the next thing while the present thing is still in our hands.
Autumn is a good season to notice this because autumn doesn’t negotiate. The tilt of the earth is not hanging around taking requests. The maples along the St. Mary’s and in the maple grove at Lindenwood will turn whether we are ready or not, and they will let go without any of the manufactured anguish we often attach to our own letting go. So here is the question the season offers us: when the flavors come and go — and they always come and go — what remains?
Sit for a moment and watch. Thoughts arise and pass away. A sound arises and passes. The morning's mood, so solid and firm at breakfast, is gone by noon. Even the practice itself has seasons: weeks when the mind settles like silt in still water, and then weeks when it will seemingly not settle at all. All of it moves. But there is something in here that is not moving — the simple, quiet fact of knowing.
Our awareness that noted the green leaf also notes the gold one and will note the bare branch. It has no flavor of the month.
That awareness is not something we have to manufacture or import. It is the most ordinary thing about us, so ordinary we look right past it, reaching for the next latte. Meditation is, in large part, just the practice of noticing what was already here — a bare knowing which doesn't turn with the seasons.
The pumpkin spice will be gone by December. So will December. Right now, it is like this.
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Update From The Board
Remembering past Board member and Sangha member Ellen England
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Ellen was a regular attendee on Tuesday night meditations going back to the days when we met in the baptismal room at Plymouth Church in downtown Fort Wayne. Ellen always greeted us with a smile, helping us to feel welcome and comfortable in this new to us setting – sitting in a group to meditate. She served on the Board of Directors as Insight Meditation Fort Wayne was formed. She was devoted to this path and would seek out study groups whenever she could. Frequently that was in our KM group. Just as frequently it was with friends of hers from the Indiana Buddhist temple in Hoagland. She attended retreats until her health kept her from being able to participate. Then her declining health kept her from even attending our Tuesday night sits. However, she still joined via Zoom for Tuesday nights and for our KM group. When she was having difficulty being on Zoom, our KM group began meeting at her home and ultimately around her bed, as her health declined further. Her wisdom and sense of humor continued to delight us to the very end. She was an inspiration. She worked to face her death as aware and intentionally as she was able. She will be missed. -Deb
“There was a quiet patience about Ellen that was comforting and her kindness radiated. Her grounded confidence, intellect and open curiosity made for meaningful conversation. I believe she enjoyed deep contemplation on wisdom and compassion and it showed. She was an example of graceful endurance and one who loved animals. That much is very fine in my opinion.” -Pam
Our Annual Dinner/Potluck is Tuesday, November 10, immediately following meditation and dharma talk. Please bring a dish and join us as we celebrate our Sangha.
We are helping Kalyana Mitta (Pali) groups form. Shortened to KM, it means "spiritual friend" or "admirable friend," referring to a virtuous companion who supports your spiritual path, guiding you with qualities like wisdom, compassion, and ethical conduct. It is exemplified by peer-led support groups where practitioners share, learn, and practice together. KM emphasizes that having good, supportive friends is essential for the spiritual life, whether they are teachers, senior practitioners, or fellow travelers on the path. If you are interested in becoming a member of a group newly forming, please sign up on our website.
We have many volunteer opportunities to support Insight Meditation Fort Wayne. If you are interested in seeing if some of these are a good fit with your skills, please contact Dave Clough via email (clough.david@gmail.com) or reach out to him at Sangha House before/after meditation. We have a wide array of opportunities. We welcome your help.
The Board of Directors for IMFW, which is a not-for-profit 501(c)(3) organization:
Drew Consalvo, Guiding Teacher
Deb O’Kelly, President of the Board
Dora Rogers, Secretary
Monica Cardenas, Treasurer
Tammy Dyer, Teacher emerita
Matthew Katinsky
David Clough
Our mission is to create and foster a community dedicated to alleviating suffering through the study and practice of Insight meditation drawing from Buddhist teachings.
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