essential (noun)

wheat flour, water, salt., 2010

They walked up the road together to the old man's shack and went in through its open door. The old man leaned the mast with its wrapped sail against the wall and the boy put the box and the other gear beside it. The mast was nearly as long as the one room of the shack. The shack was made of the tough budshields of the royal palm which are called guano and in it there was a bed, a table, one chair, and a place on the dirt floor to cook with charcoal. On the brown walls of the flattened, overlapping leaves of the sturdy fibered guano there was a picture in color of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and another of the Virgin of Cobre. These were relics of his wife. Once there had been a tinted photograph of his wife on the wall but he had taken it down because it made him too lonely to see it and it was on the shelf in the corner under his clean shirt.

Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea

Do you ever think about what you would own if you kept only your essentials? Only the basic, indispensable, and necessary elements of your life? It is something I think of often.

I'm not a very religious person, but I once spent several days in an Italian monastery. I traveled alone. My spare room housed a single bed, writing desk, and one window looking out onto a courtyard. The courtyard was a clean open space with a few large terracotta flower pots. I believe those pots held red geraniums. It was one of the most beautiful spaces I've spent time.

Days were quiet. While I was there I only met three English speaking individuals, one nun and two retired physics professors. It did not matter. This was not a place for idle chatter. It was a place for contemplation. The monastery was located in the mountains and I hiked every day. What to eat? never crossed my mind. Our two meals per day were served in a large dining hall during set times and we were not involved in menu planning.

Each morning a staff member would circulate around the breakfast tables with one pitcher of hot coffee and and another with rich steamed milk. We drank red wine with dinner each evening. For dessert we passed bowls of fresh whole fruit.

Following dinner, most of us leisurely strolled the grounds before contentedly retiring to our rooms. After 9:00 pm we were to remain in our rooms, respectfully quiet.

The monastery had a small shop that sold postcards, rosaries, and locally made hazelnut chocolate bars, you know, the essentials. I treasured each night, sitting propped up in bed reading, writing postcards, and eating chocolate, taking breaks every so often to look up from my book and appreciate the moment.