Tasting God
I almost tasted God
In what turned out
To be
A fine guacamole
A common mistake
Well worth repeating
I find eating guacamole a religious experience. As family legend has it, when we lived in Haiti when I was a toddler, my Mom found me under the kitchen sink eating rotten avocados. While in college, I food poisoned myself with a bad batch of guacamole. This imprinted in me an aversion to avocados which lasted for months. Fortunately, I have fully recovered — and then perhaps some! Though I delight in avocados, I rarely buy them. Mostly because I am cheap, and somewhat poor. Partly, because I have so many delights in my life where I can access God, many of them sensual. I suppose if God hid better in my life, I might have to resort to avocados more frequently. Fortunately, my sweetheart is familiar with this highway to God, and she feeds me avocados with some regularity. One of her many titles is “Giver of Guacamole,” though in goddess-like ineffableness she seems to resist pet names.
This poem plays with the experiencing of God as a sensual experience. The almost tasted God suggests that it may be close to experiencing God, but perhaps not directly. Of course, the “turned out to be” could mean that the mistake was in the almost. Either way, the experience is well worth repeating; and if there is some mistake involved, the sheer gloriousness of a fine guacamole should amply cover any falling short.
