Wednesday, February 27, 2013

My Rice Experiment

For the last three weeks I’ve been talking to cooked, white rice. You might think that I don’t have a lot to say to rice—we don’t have a lot in common and I really only like rice when it’s smothered in teriyaki sauce—but I’ve been whispering compliments and loving words to the jar of rice with the red band around it’s lid and insults and hateful words to the jar with the blue band on its lid.
I started this because my friend did it and I was shocked by the results, (which were more dramatic than mine, because she did it for a longer period of time—I ended mine early because of travel plans) so I tried it myself. My husband, ever the skeptic, pointed out that maybe I tended to spit when I speak harshly, so after my first time of rice-talk session I was always careful to hold the jars away from me and not spit. Maybe my sessions of kind words were longer than the hateful sessions and therefore the lid was off for a longer period of time? I don’t know. I think it was about even. I tried to be fair.
Friends asked if it felt good/cathartic to vent on my poor rice, but it really didn’t. In fact, it was just the opposite. I always end the sessions feeling badly and a little apologetic toward the abused rice—even though I know it’s just rice and doesn’t have feelings or emotions. Being mean makes me feel—mean.
What lessons have I learned from my experiment?
1.      When I’m mean or unkind I’m hurting myself, maybe even more than I’m hurting anyone else.
2.      Rice or mold can’t understand my words—just as like someone speaking another language can’t understand my words—so it has to be more than the actual stringing together of sentences—it has to be a combination of the tone and the intent. And maybe it’s just the thoughts? I don’t know.
3.      From now on, I will always be more mindful of my negative thoughts and words. I will speak to others and myself with love, kindness and compassion.
I would love to hear scientific theories explaining the results of my rice experiment. Can someone learned in the ways of bacteria explain this to me?


  1. I read once that someone believed that our spirits are made of something very close to music. Sound waves, but something more . . . cohesive. Concentrated. Coherent. It makes sense to me that sound would affect what we term unintelligent life.

    Have you heard of the Japanese scientist that did the same with water that he then froze? The kindly-spoken-to water formed into lovely, orderly crystals; while the hatefully-spoken-to water crystals were utterly chaotic. Here's a short page with a little about it:

    I like your experiment, though. I think I'll perform this experiment with my kids (I mean, have them talk to rice, lol), and see what happens . . .

  2. Thanks for sharing that link! I love it. In fact, here's a quote:

    Sometimes, when we cannot see the immediate results of our prayers and affirmations, we think that we have failed. But, as we learn through Masaru Emoto's amazing photographs, that thought of failure itself becomes represented in the physical objects that surround us. Now that we have seen this, perhaps we can begin to realize that even when immediate results are invisible to the unaided human eye, they are there. When we love our own bodies, they respond. When we send our love to the Earth, she responds.

    For our own bodies at birth are 70 percent water, and the percentage of water in our bodies remains high throughout life (depending upon weight and body type). Also, the earth's surface is 70 percent water. And now we have seen before our eyes the proof that water is far from inanimate, but is actually alive and responsive to our every thought and emotion. Perhaps, having seen this, we can begin to really understand the awesome power that we possess, through choosing our thoughts and intentions, to heal ourselves and the earth. If only we believe.

  3. Wow. That's all I have to say. Plus, I miss your insights. And I think I need to try this experiment.