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Breakfast Epiphany

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I ate a Thomas’s English Muffin for breakfast this morning. It’s difficult for me to remember a time when I’ve been as satisfied with a meal. Done right, there is nothing better. Lightly browned on the top to the perfect golden crispy, crunchy texture, I grabbed my knife and slathered on just the right amount of butter. It melted into the crevices, turning a warm sunny color and when I bit down past the palette-pleasing crunch I was delighted to encounter that buttery, chewy base. And, oh, wow! That was the perfect bite! It was slightly sweet, a little bit salty, crunchy and doughy. For those brief few minutes that I reveled in the taste bud extravaganza I was able to steal away from the onslaught of dissonance and divisiveness in our country and our world. I just closed my eyes and chewed. A gentle trickle of butter dangled at the edge of my mouth so I wiped it away with the side of my index finger and licked it clean like no one was watching. Because no one was. Five or six bites and one side was gone. I took a sip of Harvest Blend tea to cleanse my palette and then I returned my attention back to my plate and dug in to side number two. The bottom side. The side with all the little dots of which I know not their name, nor do I care. They add a little mystery to my english muffin. I bit in and forgot all about the pressure I feel weighing me down as though I were Atlas carrying the world upon my weary shoulders. I forgot all about the anger, the desperation, the bitterness I sometimes feel myself and then see in nearly every other post on my Facebook page or on TV or overheard as I’m wheeling my shopping cart through Ralph’s. I surrendered to the buttery Thomas’s baked goodness and went completely into the experience and left ballistic missiles and retweeting racist hatred and sexism behind. I swallowed and felt utterly and completely satisfied. My hunger satiated, my feelings ripe, present. I was aware of the moment and my presence in that moment. I remembered that no matter what is circulating in the ether or despite my best intentions to not fabricate a make-believe future filled with horror and destruction also known as worry, there are very, very good things in this world. I remembered that I have to stop and appreciate all those good things and not turn everything ‘off’ and numbly stumble through this life because the burden of the negative is too difficult to bear. I stayed present and I counted six bites to complete my second half. I sipped my delightful cinnamon tea and rested in gratitude for not only a delicious meal, but being fortunate enough to know how lucky I am to have it. That is true happiness. And that is how I want to face the burden of ill-will swelling up and threatening to consume us all. I know it’s a decision to stay positive and present and that sometimes it is difficult and it hurts. But missing out on the experience of my breakfast this or any morning is just not something I’m willing to let anyone, especially narcissistic bastards, take away from me.

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