I had the most amazing breakfast. It wasn’t much but it impressed me. I feel the need to discuss. That humankind should find any meal an interesting subject for discussion amuses me. I know why I am amused. I see the incongruity of bothering to discuss breakfast when we have God or art or political theory to hash out. I laugh at that. I and many, keep an erroneous view that we are or can be more than ‘enjoying and discussing our food’. I often believe that such discussion is an inconsequential, secondary topic. Discussion should be reserved for something else, something more world-changing, earth-shaking. So, I laugh at the idea of discussing breakfast.
We/I have/hold on to an illusion that eating breakfast, defecating, fornicating and all other related processes are mundane. Such stuff is the background noise, the autonomous system of something greater. The quiet side of a more sophisticated pursuit. It is the small side of thinking that notices breakfast. The pure mind is higher. I am asking myself, “Do thoughts, dreams, emotions, scandals, politics, theologies really amount to something more important than burping and farting?” My guess, my gut feeling, my intuition says, “No..”. That’s why I laugh and others laugh at the mundane. There is nothing funnier than farting. It proves life amidst the noise.
What could ever be more important than awareness of life in whichever way and upon whichever realization that awareness manifests? I am aware of the taste of hastily prepared strawberries and a three-egg omelette with inexpensive cheese shredded on top. That awareness is the absolute core of being. Isn’t it? I fart, therefore I am?
I am also aware of the tragedy that November brings around each year. A tragedy to me, a something far more important than enjoying breakfast. A something that still needs deep discussion, as it involves so much. A happening that has potential to deepen understanding. Sometimes, the importance of understanding the whys and wherefores of existance seems to trump the importance of the enjoyment of a simple meal. An important thing happened to and with my family in November – so horrible, so awful, so deeply disturbing and so long ago. Yesterday, I got lost a while in the re-imaging (not imagining – imaging, I was seeing it) of the saddest ever scene. It took my heartbeat away for a while and hasn’t done so for a number of years. I was then and am today, destroyed by those events I could not control and could not prevent. …and? I feel pain, therefore I am but it wasn’t more important, significant than a simple breakfast. Those things are equal. All things are equal and miraculous, even-Steven. None should supercede.
I am, I continue.
There was a horrible event once and there was breakfast today. I am, I continue. There is understanding of the universe, our place in it, the reasons why for things and there was breakfast today. I am, I continue. There is war in Ukraine and there was breakfast today. I am, I continue. There is God or is not and there was breakfast today. I am, I continue. Others suffer, I suffer…there was breakfast today. I am, I continue.
That is almost a heartbeat, isn’t it? I am, I continue.
Here I go again with the miracles idea…. I don’t now and never did truly need a weeping Mary or the crossing of a divided sea on foot or a resurrection or a Messiah. Nah. There was breakfast today, I am, I continue.
My fingers hurt from advanced arthritis. I am, I continue.
I can’t pee the way I used to be able. I am, I continue.
My knee hurts. I am, I continue.
My hip is ceramic. I am, I continue.
There are birds, dogs, cats, clouds, moons, stars.
There is day, night, twilight. There are the most peculiar plants.
I am, I continue.
I am, I continue. There is nothing more important than the moment. That moment can never be anything other than OK. All that is is all good. There are bumps in the road… There is an occasional delicious breakfast… There is falling in love… There is enmity… Some of these things are good, some better, some less so, some actually bad/painful. It is still good, still proof of life. Yeah, I wish for a life in heaven, righteousness, significance, for understanding, for a more telling proof of life than breakfast and a cuppa but it is here, anyway. Once in a while, I can see it when I step back at the flavour of strawberry, at the intervals in “Clair De Lune”, at the utter grief of grief.
Someday, I may learn to cook more than an omellette. I may understand God. I may understand the ebb and flood of living but in the meantime, I am and I continue. Each moment is miraculous.