I’ve been spending a lot of time writing lately – some thought-provoked drafts for this blog, and others more politically charged due to the nature of my professional life. However, around a week ago I took a Saturday morning off just for myself. No friends or family involved; I dedicated the morning to a ‘Reading and Writing for Well-being’ workshop I had stumbled across at my favourite Arts Centre.
It was a glorious morning, immersing myself in a group of women of all ages and walks of life dedicated solely to words; reading, writing, speaking, enjoying, creating, and experiencing them in all of their perfect literary glory.
Part of the morning was spent experiencing a mango. (‘Huh?!’ I can almost hear you wonder.) But it was great. Better than great in fact; marvellous. We sliced a mango and ate a piece, all collecting our thoughts on the exotic fruit and sharing them in either poetry or prose. I discovered a newfound pleasure in writing purely for creative expression. And so I have taken a small hiatus from the more emotionally charged and ‘philosophically-reaching’ writing and editing to share my creative expression below of eating a mango. I hope it brings you as much joy as it did to me (my condolences if you’re not a mango fan!).
The experience of a mango is a whole event, and a real treat – this fruit is far from humble. Succulent and visually pleasing; its smooth curves and pump shape holds the promise of pleasure.
From the fragrance, the cutting, the peeling and the manoeuvring, the slipping and sliding -Oh! Watch the knife! – to the biting, the sucking, the bursting of flavour.
From the vision of a far away beautiful land, to the sweet humming of fruit flies, and the promise of a long summer.
From the juice dripping and the finger licking to the teeth picking and the sweet feeling of satisfaction. Aah. One more, please!