Surely the time we get to spend with friends who live far away is sacred time... physical, shared, embodied time with them is rare... I can't often see my friends in Portland, London, Minnesota, Orlando, Denmark, Denver, or fill in the place for yourself... so those times are a gift when they occur, and it seems to me that something about that time and place creates a sacred space.
Meals. The shared table... the conversations... the pleasant and comfortable silences... the amazing Borsch home-cooked by Julia, the "laughing and riding and cornholing... (except Buster)"... I'm beginning to think that there is nothing I enjoy more fully than meals with good friends. At its best, this sacred space allows for a shared presence... being... to be together... to be known and to share that knowing presence.
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Portland was full of this, and I'm grateful for each meal... for both the pure enjoyment of the food but also for the time shared at those tables with Tom, Adam, Tim, Adrian, and Reuben... the borsch at Julia's cart, the coffee and red velvet muffin at Crema, the toffee cupcakes at St Cupcake, the Rwandan coffee at Stumptown (which I tried and failed to brew on my own today), the all-too-rushed meal of kelp, ribs, and dumplings at Biwa, the snakebites over pipes at the Horse Brass, the meat platter at Two Brothers Serbian food (Ayvar!), the black molasses bread and watergames at Otis Cafe, the extremely fresh crab and cod in Newport, and of course, the schnitzel, spaetzel, wurst, and steins brought to us by our sciatic-nerve suffering waitress, Sarah, at Gustav's German bar. I hope she got the massage she needed.
