Thursday, August 9, 2012
Maybe I am Thinking too Much
Each Danish was covered with a frosting or a glaze that was always kind of hardened around the edges. When my teeth bit into it, pieces of fat and sugar melted across my tongue, and my back teeth fresh pieces of the frosting mixed in with spiced raisins to produce the most exquisite explosions in my brain. As you can see my memory of these danishes remain fresh and exciting. Every package I buy for $5.79 comes with an unfulfilled promise. That promise is that I can re-create to my satisfaction that sensation I remember from many decades ago.
I feel bad. I feel bad because I spoke to my friend Bong, and like a drug addict, I felt compelled to hide my bakery purchase. It's like wearing long sleeves in summertime. my friend Bong is a Buddhist, a woman who chose her faith in these last ten years of her life. She says that the goal is to find peace within yourself. She believes this peace is to be found in compassion. She develops her compassion through breathing and simplicity.
I feel strange knowing that I, too, am learning to breathe, and breathe thoughtfully, consciously. I also want to find that compassion. Bong is eighty-nine years old. As a part of her faith, a part of her study, she has achieved great peace through great simplicity. I told her about using hot sauce, and she told me she doesn't like "accessories." In my quest to explode neurons within my brain, make every synaptic explosion meaningful within my life, I fail to think of hot sauce as " an accessory".
I suppose the question is this: if I want to achieve the peace that my friend has achieved, do I really have to make the changes that she has made? I still cling to my Danish, an indulgence. I also know every argument has been posed to me in support of vegetarianism, and still I fry up ground cow flesh to put inside my enchiladas. I have to wonder, what could I gain by seeing teapots and hot sauce bottles as" accessories". Bong tells me for herself that her faith is borne of philosophy, not religion. She doesn't muse over the metaphysical value of prayer, or the dreams of an afterlife. Her goal really is to" be here now".
As I struggle with my own issues -as shown in my indulgent purchases of sugary treats and animal flesh- I have to ask myself what I truly want. Could I really confront my own illusions, and find my way past my own impulsivity? On this question alone, my eye drifts back to the coffee pot, and my unfinished package of Danish, to realize how much further I have to go to find my peace. My thumb runs across the cellophane package. I realize that I've been satisfied sufficiently for now, but my questions remain. I guess I'm okay with that. I have to be okay with that.
thank you for reading.