A bowl of rice with tofu and vegetables, and a look at the work that comes before lunch at Ruixiang Chan Monastery.
There is plenty to notice in this bowl. Thick slices of tofu sit over the rice, alongside green peppers and vegetables. Behind it, people eat from their own bowls, seated along a yellow wall. A black cat passes through the space between the chairs.
It is an ordinary lunchtime scene at Ruixiang Chan Monastery. Looking at the meal, though, brings us back to the vegetable garden and the kitchen, where so much of the work happens before anyone sits down to eat.
In the vegetable garden
The garden has rows of bare earth with small green plants growing farther back. A wheelbarrow stands off to one side, near a bucket. The soil is exposed to the sun, and the surrounding vegetation grows tall around the plot.
Some beds are still mostly brown. Others have begun to fill with leaves. Seeing them together makes the waiting involved in growing food easier to understand. A seedling needs tending long before there is anything to pick. Between preparing a bed and harvesting a crop, there is watering to do and growth that cannot be hurried.
A monk stands by the garden with his hands behind his back, looking over the soil. Sunlight falls across his grey robe. The beds in front of him still look sparse. There is something familiar about this part of gardening: looking at what is growing, noticing what needs attention, and waiting.
Before the meal reaches the table
In the kitchen, steam rises from a wok of cabbage. A hand holds the spatula over the vegetables. Bottles and jars sit within reach of the stove, with another pan behind them.
The meal takes shape through this work. Vegetables need washing and cutting. Rice needs cooking. Someone has to stay at the stove and get the food ready for others. When a full bowl is placed in our hands, most of that effort is already out of sight.
These scenes bring the garden, the kitchen and the meal into view together. They invite us to remember how much care a meal requires, including the work we never see.
Eating with care
一斋一饭，来之不易。 Every meal takes work.
At the table, that thought can change a small decision. We can start with a portion we expect to finish and take more if we are still hungry. We can give the meal our attention and thank the people who prepared it.
There is room for enjoyment in that care. The tofu and vegetables look generous and appetising. Appreciating a meal includes tasting it, eating enough, and noticing the effort that made it possible.
For us at ZenSambodhi, these moments belong in the story of Ruixiang alongside its devotional life. The vegetable beds and the kitchen show some of the daily work that sustains the monastery. Remembering them, we can be a little more careful about how much we put in our bowls, and what we leave behind.