Greetings Reader,

My younger self never aspired to master the art of cooking.

Nor did I ever think it would turn into an enjoyable outlet for creative expression.

And yet, here I am, in the kitchen, riffing off a recipe to cook up another culinary masterpiece

All right, so, perhaps I'm indulging in a bit of overstatement.

Cooking has become a form of meditation for me. Once I'm in the kitchen, my mind locks into the process and stays there until the repast is ready.

My meditative orientation to the process is, to some degree, a matter of style: almost everything happens on the stovetop. The oven is a secondary resource.

It’s an admittedly elemental approach: Fire - good (contrary to Frankenstein’s monster’s understandably negative assessment).

My taste for cooking took a while to develop; a gradual transition from making what was easy, cheap, and quick to what was healthy, tasty, and fun.

The fact that cooking is a devotional art also contributed to the development of my enthusiasm for it. Bhakti-yoga is known as “kitchen religion” because cooking and then offering what you’ve cooked to your iṣṭa-devatā — the form of Divinity that resonates with you — is a central feature of the devotional lifestyle.

It probably won’t surprise you to hear that my favorite cookbooks were written by Krishna devotees or that Ayurvedic and Indian recipes are the mainstays of my kitchen repertoire. I use the same set of spices for almost everything: asafetida, kalonji, cumin, coriander, and garam masala, cinnamon and cardamom for sweet stuff, black mustard seeds or fenugreek for other stuff.

Of all the spices I pull of the shelf, the one I use the most by far is turmeric.

Turmeric is a friend: it improves your intestinal flora (which, I guess, is an actual thing), strengthens your metabolism, and protects cells in your nervous system. It's good for joints, clears your complexion, bolsters your immune system, . . . the list goes on and on.

Friend - good!

This week, I learned that turmeric is also great for turning temporary crowns a brilliant shade of yellow.

It's true what they say: if I were an old person (uh, - hmmm . . .), the first bit of advice I'd give to a young person is to take better care of your teeth than you think you need to.

My dentist explained it to me and it was right there on the Treatment Case print out but, somehow or other, I didn’t really understand what “resin-three surfaces, anterior” and “crown-porcelain/ceramic substr” really meant. I thought I was just getting new fillings.

Oh well.

The post-procedure info session included a review of what I could and shouldn't eat: creamy buckwheat hot cereal — no problem; chomping on raw carrots — no way (never happens anyway, so, whatever).

Since they went to some trouble to match the color of my temporary crowns to the color of the rest of my teeth, it occurred to me to ask, “What about turmeric?”

There was a dramatic pause accompanied by a McKayla Maroney-esque "not impressed" look. The dental assistant's advice was to avoid it if possible and, if not, rinse with warm salt water right after eating to minimize staining.

Obviously not possible, but I found out after the first meal that salt water offered only minimal minimization.

Enemy - bad!

I wasn't sure which way to go on this: accept the austerity of a turmeric-less life until I get the permanent crowns or embrace detachment from a conspicuous color mismatch along my smile line.

As I was trying to make up my mind about which yogic principle to go with, I remembered something else that’s sometimes a friend and sometimes an enemy: my mind.

Yoga wisdom confirms what we all experience when we try to meditate: our minds have a mind of their own. We can try our best to convince our minds to sit still with us, but, especially in the beginning, our minds aren’t interested.

In fact, the mind seems to be adamantly opposed to meditation. And that’s because it is: meditation is an attack on the mind’s sovereignty.

The mind is used to being in charge: it tells us what it wants and we obediently engage our intelligence in figuring out how to get it. When we wake up to the fact that kowtowing to the mind’s demands is not always in our best interest, the mind gets mad.

The Bhagavad Gita puts it this way:

This verse made me think: how can I elevate my body with the help of turmeric, but not discolor my crowns. Indeed, turmeric may surely be the friend of my body and, just as certainly, my crown’s enemy.

Hmmm. What to do?

Of course, there is no way to “conquer” turmeric. And I don’t think turmeric has anything against me personally — it’s just doing what turmeric does: neutralizing free radicals, boosting brain cells . . . and adding a brilliant shade of yellow to everything it touches

If I can find a way to cook the way I usually cook without looking like I ate a yellow crayon, that will be a great victory.

But if I can conquer my mind and make it the best of friends, that will be my crowning achievement.

😬

Wishing you all good fortune,

- Hari-k

P.S.: There are only 6 spots left for my upcoming Sunday Morning Bhagavad Gita Book Club. This is where you’ll find community support for your commitment to read the Gita on a set schedule, get guidance on how to follow the Gita's dialogue, hear how your fellow readers are integrating their insights and reflections into their lives, and share how you're connecting the Gita's spiritual ideas to your own lived experience.

This is a donation-based offering: the recommended donation is $15 per meeting but any amount will be gratefully accepted - no one will be turned away for lack of funds. CLICK HERE for complete information and registration