The All-Encompassing Nature of One Taste
Finding the Sacred in the Mundane, and the Mundane in the Sacred

When we think of wisdom, we often picture solemn, ancient teachings passed down in sacred texts or uttered by revered sages. But what if wisdom isn’t confined to the holy and the ancient? What if it’s hiding in the everyday, in the ridiculous, the mundane, or even the trivial? This is the essence of one-taste wisdom—the idea that deep truths can be found everywhere. It’s like that quote attributed to Beethoven when asked where he finds his music: “When I get up in the morning, I have to be careful not to step on it.” That’s how we feel about wisdom—it’s so pervasive that we have to be mindful not to trip over it.

The wisdom of One Taste is not bound by the rules of what is typically considered sacred or profound. Instead, it suggests that every aspect of life, no matter how seemingly profane or absurd, holds the potential for revelation. It teaches that the divide between the sacred and the mundane is an illusion. Wherever we are, whatever we are immersed in, there is the potential to uncover a deeper truth.

Finding Teachings, Pointers & Reminders Everywhere

The wisdom of One Taste invites us to let go of the idea that we must climb a mountain or follow a guru to find enlightenment. We can start exactly where we are, with what we already love and do.
If not here, then where? We go looking for the sacred somewhere outside of our lives and end up missing it altogether.
In the process, we try to become something we’re not, chasing an image of what we think enlightenment should look like. But the sacred is not some place far off, waiting for us to get there. It is in our midst, in the heartbeat of every moment, waiting to be recognized—right here, right now.

From Holy to Pulp: Every Medium is a Message

There’s a widely accepted image of what a spiritually inclined person should look like—calm, serene, soft-spoken. They wear certain colors, perhaps gravitate towards white and muted tones, and definitely don’t care much for fashion. They walk gently, speak softly, and carry an air of mildness, as if spirituality has to fit into a single aesthetic. It’s as if we’ve created a checklist of how to look, behave, and exist as a “spiritual person.” And yet, anything that deviates from this is often seen as unspiritual, as if the sacred could only be contained within a tidy, ordered box.

But isn’t this just another form of control? Before we found spirituality, we may have controlled the mundane—how we worked, how we dressed, how we structured our lives. Now, it seems we’ve swapped one set of rules for another, except this time we’re managing the sacred. We’ve traded in the office for the temple, the meetings for group meditation, the chit-chat for spiritual jargon. But the game is still the same. The sacred becomes just another thing to manage, to conform to, as if it’s a hobby where we learn to fit in, mimic the gestures, speak the language, and play by the rules.

How is this any different from any other community? It’s just the content that varies.

Breaking the Spiritual Mold: Finding the Sacred in Ordinary Life

And this is where the real limitation comes in—when the sacred is only recognized during the times we’ve marked as “sacred,” like meditation, prayer, or reading sacred texts. But if we can’t notice the sacredness in our day-to-day life, in the mundane activities we pursue, then how can we ever hope to transcend the separation between the sacred and the mundane?

The truth is, spirituality doesn’t need to look a certain way. It doesn’t demand soft-spoken words or gentle gestures. It’s not about rituals or inner peace. The sacred is right here, in every single moment of our lives, waiting to be noticed. When we start to see that, our whole life becomes a form of worship, an offering.

You don’t need to sit on a cushion for hours, perform an intricate sadhana, or go on a pilgrimage to touch the divine. You can dance tango at a milonga, press your chest against another body, and become one with the music and the movement. The sacredness is in the dance, in the moment when two become one and disappear into the movement and rhythm.

You can watch a video about Cara Delevingne and see it as a modern fable of the fisherman at the beach, the tale where the fisherman chooses a simple life over chasing more wealth. Delevingne’s story affirms the myth that fame and riches do not guarantee lasting happiness or serenity. Just as the fisherman who realizes that what he truly seeks is already within his grasp, Delevingne’s journey reminds us that the chase for external validation often leads us away from what really matters: inner contentment.

Cooking and baking, for instance, can be a profound spiritual practice. When you’re fully present—chopping vegetables, stirring a pot, or kneading dough—you engage with the material world in a deeply mindful way. Creating something nourishing becomes an embodiment of self-care and reconnection with yourself. In the repetition of doing it every day, you might feel challenged, weighed down, or even bored. Then again, you can choose to commit yourself fully, bringing as much dedication and presence as you would to any sacred act.
As thought fades in the rhythm of the process, cooking becomes its own kind of dance. In the repetition lies the practice where skillfulness meets wisdom; in the seemingly mundane act of preparing food, we uncover a deeper connection to life itself, transforming a daily chore into a ritual of presence and gratitude.

Similarly, in playing tennis you can become so immersed that the sense of “you” as the player dissolves. Time seems to slow down, nearly standing still, and the ball appears magnified, each strand of felt sharply visible. In that moment, as you focus on the ball, it reveals its trajectory across the net, guiding your movement. Tennis is no longer just a game; it transforms into a dance. You move not with the intent to hit the ball but as part of a seamless flow, guided by the ball’s placement. It’s no longer about striking the ball with the racket; it’s a fluid, balanced motion that flows through the ball, each motion rounded and balanced with your limbs and body weight. It is a dance between the elements of earth and air, as you coil and push off from the ground, drawing energy from the earth to suspend yourself in the air. Every movement is a harmony of forces—grounded yet weightless, rooted yet soaring. In this seamless flow, tennis transcends technique, becoming a rhythm of energy and breath, where the ball, the racket, and your body merge into one continuous motion. In this state, tennis becomes an act of pure presence, a meditation in action.

Life as Meditation

The wisdom One Taste is a form of wisdom that breaks down the artificial separation between the sacred and the mundane. It’s about seeing the sacred in places where most people would never think to look. The wisdom One Taste doesn’t fit neatly into the spiritual aesthetic, because it might be wild, unpredictable, and irreverent. It’s wisdom that doesn’t care about appearances or conventional expectations.

It challenges us to let go of the idea that we need to be a certain way to be spiritual. Instead, we’re invited to embrace life in all its messy, chaotic, and beautiful forms. We’re asked to stop looking for the sacred in some far-off place and recognize it in the very fabric of our day-to-day existence.

When you can see the sacred in everything you do, then your whole life becomes a meditation. Whether you’re cooking, dancing, reading the news, or watching a tv show, you’re engaging with life on a deeper level. Every moment becomes an opportunity to connect, to be present, to experience the divine in the most unexpected ways.

This is the heart of true spirituality: not controlling, not conforming, not following someone else’s idea of what it should look like. It’s about living fully, embracing all aspects of life, and recognizing that the sacred is not something you need to seek out. It’s already here, right where you are, in the midst of everything you love and do.