The food and drinks that was offered up to me, on the offering table, at the foot of my coffin, during the funeral wake at my house, was both intimate and magical; they connected me (wherever I may be and in whatever appropriate form I am in) with my family.
It was intimate because food and drinks are consumed and taken into our bodies, the fabric of our being – they become us and we become them. The act of offering it up to me to imbibe was an act of faith on my children’s part, and that’s the magical touch.
Their intention, although focused on the food as is understood in the physical world, has transformed it into some sort of power that could be received in other worlds as whatever it is that is wanted. So, in some way, our world mixes into their worlds and helps and sustains them.
In the last few years of my last life, I shared a house with my son and his family. We did not often sit down to eat the family meals together at home. Somehow, we each had our own taste and our taste was not shared by the others in the family as often as we would have like. What I miss most, from where I am now, is not being able to eat some meals with my son and his family. Perhaps in my next life, this issue about sharing food with people in the material world may be different – more intimate?
However, from where I am and in the form that I am in, the food and drinks that are offered to me reach me in a transformed state. This mysterious quality goes a long way to satisfy both the needs of the dead and the living. Let’s eat.