I felt like I had failed again... by neglecting the three fine onions I had planned to use in my chicken soup. In plain view on the kitchen table they were left to rot in the crystal bowl, a wedding gift that my parents had received in 1959, then passed along to me. My only consolation was that now, they (the onions) were headed for the composter. One by one I inspected them, thinking that maybe I could salvage even a portion, but clearly they had gone too long. As I took the last one out I was practically paralyzed by the image at the bottom of the bowl. With just a few onion skins left it was a kaleidoscope of reflections, patterned brilliance, and white whiskers of light – I was absolutely mesmerized – satori.