What ice cream means to me

Ice cream has always seemed mystical to me. It may be because it is ephemeral; it teaches us that everything changes, that solidity is an illusion in a simpler way than David Boehm, the theoretical physicist. Ice cream requires focus on the immediate. It’s about being here now because if your attention drifts, you lose it. In a sense, ice cream reminds us to savour every magical moment of our lives.

Old-fashioned ice cream has the key elements that are traditionally seen to form the material basis of the physical world. It has earth (rock salt), water (milk), fire (to cook the custard), and air, the magic ingredient that transforms it to ineffable creaminess.

My awe of ice cream may be because of Joe Miller, an American Bodhisattva, who would buy anyone an Eskimo Pie if they would walk with him all the way through San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park to the beach. Or it may be as simple as the happiness ice cream brings, reminding us that we are all born to be joyful.

If Jesus were alive today, I expect he would use ice cream rather than bread for communion.