Why did the nomad smile?

Nomads, contrary to conventional  belief, are creatures of habit.  When they find a good grazing ground, they stick to it.  In the Bay Area. we were happy to repeatedly indulge our craving for greens at "Sweet Tomatoes".  However, sometimes an adventurous spirit is necessary.

Searching for food and shelter along the main street of Navojoa (a small town in Sinaloa), we knew that we had to be alert and flexible.  A green sign that read "Quick Zalads" caught our attention. A long counter, decorated with colorful and fresh-looking vegetables, dominated the small restaurant.  We paid for a "Large", and were amazed as the cashier brandished a stainless-steel bowl, the size of a kitchen sink. A server obtained a whole lettuce, and shredded it into the bowl.  The server and us then walked on opposite sides of the counter.  We, across the glass panels,  pointing at the different vegetables.  She, adding our choices to the mix.  At the end of the journey, she swiftly dressed, and tossed the full bowl.
"I can pack whatever you don't finish"  she offered.  Probably, after comparing our body size to the that of the meal.

We sat across the industrial-grade container and took the first bite.  I recognized the smile that spread across Adi's face.  It spells 'SATISFACTION.'  We consumed the entire portion without difficulty.  I think someone should open a franchise in the Bay Area.

Stained

Predawn in the mountains.  I strolled up the dark trail, scratching my arms while savouring the last sweet remnants of sleep.  This was the first day of a Vipassana retreat.  I have been here several times, but this would be my first chance to occupy one of the newly completed, private meditation cells,

I found my cell along the hushed corridor, and entered a high-ceiling room which was barely wider than the door.    I sat on my custom-made cushion, flipped the light switch (conveniently located by my elbow), and after enjoying the total silence and darkness, closed my eyes and began to work.

After a while, I felt, on my foot, a tingling sensation.  Last night, we were instructed to focus on the breath, and to ignore bodily sensation.  I tried to comply,  but the sensation turned into an itching sensation.  Being an "Old Student" I was taught what to do.  I  could hear my teacher's deep melodious voice:  "Just observe as the sensation arises... passes away... Aniche [Law of impermanence]."  However, the sensation did not pass away, but intensified into a pain sensation.  At this point, I realized that this morning could also be my first chance to experience the emergence of a deep-rooted Sankhara [Habitual reaction].  According to our teacher, if I kept "perfect equanimity",  the Sankhara will dissipate, and I will become more wholesome.  However, when a hot flame touched my foot, I lost my equanimity.  In one quick swoop, I uncrossed my legs, opened my eyes, and turned-on the light.

My left foot was indeed red and swollen. Then, my peripheral vision caught some motion.  An insect, smaller than an ant, was crawling slowly on my right leg.  Its movement seemed to be hindered by the large shiny-black sphere which comprised the hind part of his body.  In pure instinct, my hand flew towards the target, and caught the vermin between thumb and forefinger. Then, I squeezed.  In the quiet room, the ensuing "POP" rang like a rifle shot.  All that was left of the poor creature was a red, comet-shaped, stain on my pants.

The pain quickly subsided, but my agitation lasted longer, even as I returned to sit.  Was it rage?  Revulsion?  Or maybe regret, for violating the first moral precept to "Abstain from killing any being."

P.S.
The next day, I recouped some of my lost merits by rescuing a drowning ant out of the urinal.  My battle with the bed-bugs lasted throughout the course, but without incurring additional casualties.

P.P.S
Rereading the story, I realized that it has a hidden moral, which would apply even to bugs.  "Don't be greedy."