I Wonder.

At or around the age of five, I went through a stage when I didn’t believe that we, as humans, were real. I imagined that we were lesser forms who were only dreaming that we had all of our abilities. Hopeful, single-celled organisms (or maybe robots) who could do no more than fantasize about grasping a tendril of hair or sniffing fragrant blossoms or leaping higher than high—or performing any of the other surprising feats that our bodies amaze us with every day. Eventually, perhaps when morning after morning I awoke to the same unchanging and functional shape, I began to accept the phenomenon that is our being.

I was an odd child, yes. But my sensibilities also lacked the influence of dogma; and, thus, I was free to explore the questions of existence and creation without the answer already provided. If it’s fair to use this word, I will call it a blessing. Many find comfort in their beliefs, while I find it in the absence. It is, as they say, what it is.

But that’s not what I want to write about today. Except to say that a blank slate awaits its first mark.

The first real impression made on me was by Alan Watts, and, several times over the years, Alan, if I may be so casual, has come into my life like a returning lover. He has awakened me at moments when I didn’t know I was sleeping. He has sparked me when I thought I might be forever snuffed. And he has aroused me when I seemed satiated.

I could use this space solely to explore his philosophy; but, for the sake of relevance, I will hold to a meaningful point that has kept me focused and determined over the years: there will be no murder in my kitchen. A similarly-titled chapter in a little book called “Does it Matter” can tell you the rest. (Ah, once out of print—and admittedly dated in some places—it finds its afterlife in cyberspace. I believe you can read the entire entry here.)

I can’t lie, I occasionally perform heinous culinary acts that deserve the highest penalty; but, relatively speaking, I try very hard to make meals that are worthy of the sacrifices that brought them to my table.

Today's example is this recipe for Grilled Chicken Breasts with North African Spice Paste. Grinding the whole spices is a must, by the way.

Trust me.