Cuties & The Tangerine Dream

We love tangerines or mandarins specifically at our house. The Hubs takes them in his lunch every day, matter of fact we have gone through a box or two this season. "Cuties"which are actually mandarins are grown here in California . Cuties are seedless.

The English philospher Roger Housden reminds us in the following meditation "Tangerine Dream," how the simply splendid tangerine sensously reveals the sacred hidden in between ordinary life's lines. Wow, think about it the next time you have a little tangerine or mandarin or orange.

The following is dedicated to all who enjoy those simple things in life...one being the Tangerine.

Tangerine Dream

I once dreamed I was sitting under a rock in the desert, surrounded by red sand that stretched to a glittering haze on the horizon. I had a goatskin which was still half-full of water, but I had just run out of my last tin of food the night before. I was aware that my situation did not appear promising, but I was not, for some reason, especially concerned....As I was looking out over the desert, I was astounded to see a little out of arm's reach over to my left, a bright tangerine perched on the sand. I had brought no tangerines into the desert. No one else could have passed this way recently....Yet there it was, all by itself, a bulging tangerine, perfectly round, a meal for one in an orange suit. I leaned over and picked it up. It smelled fresh and bight, as tangerines do. I felt its soft mandarin skin and cracked it open like a ripe pod to reveal the fruit and its protection of sinewy latticework. It released a cool mist of delicious odour into the desert air and over my hot face.

With my index finger I slowly pulled one of the segments away and brought it, trailing a rubbery white frond, to the edge of my lips. Holding it for a moment between my teeth, I eventually split the tight skin and a shower of fine juices sprayed into my mouth. Slowly, I chewed the flesh out of the segment, reduced it to pulp, and let it slip effortlessly down my throat with barely the reflex of swallowing. I savoured its energy, and felt it clear my head. Then I tore off another segment, full to bursting, felt its body billowing between my fingers, and sent it the same way as its absent neighbour. A third and fourth segment followed, then another, and another; the cool shock of their tang traveled right through me until, with the last one, I awake to a cool autumn morning in England.

Roger Housden

Soul and Sensuality: Returning the Erotic to Everyday Life

Have yourself a tangarine and enjoy!

Mumzie