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I have been marinating in the phrase “an embarrassment of riches” all season.
For personal enrichment as of late, I have been reading about communist China. For journey preparation, I have been reading about post-embargo Cuba. And in my weekly work, I visit some might embattled communities within Richmond and Oakland, CA. Often I am asked whether I find this sort of thing is “depressing”. Rather, I find that it keeps me grounded. Keeps me from sweating the small stuff, so to speak. I am getting that familiar feeling again…the one we got whiffs of in Buenos Aires, Nicaragua, and Thailand, but which permeated my very being in Siem Riep, Cambodia. That feeling, a stew of guilt and sadness, overwhelmingness (I know it’s a made up word), avoidance, truth, and embareassment. That urge, to take off everything I am wearing and carrying and bestow it on others. To try and cover the hole of human compassion in my chest, salve that ache with material offerings. Even though I know, everything I own, would not be enough.
Here exists the keen knowledge that despite all my years of toil, in truth, the pleasures of my life are not really due to merit. The accidents of birth that send us all careening on a certain set of paths were kind to me. No more, no less. As an American citizen, I flaunt my freedom of speech mocking “The Decider” and know I won’t lose my job (or go to jail). I lament with P that we have so MANY delicious desserts at home, surely we will get enormously fat, and how do we decide which one to consume first??
Oh, yes, tasty dilemmas. The origami wrapped Japanese desserts our Aikido dojo friends sent for New Years’? Or the Buenos Aires Brownie from Michigan stuffed with authentic Argentine dulce de leche? Perhaps the red velvet cake or peach cobbler K8 bought us from Gregory’s in Oakland? Packages of snickerdoodles or Ritter chocolates I got at Cost Plus? Plum powder covered dried Guava from Taiwan? Phillipine dried mango? Salted exotic caramels from Vosge’s? Chewy, gooey Dutch stroopwafels paired with tea? And the teas…varieties from no less than 5 different countres to choose from. Loose leaf or bag? Herbal or Black or Green? Maybe some of that dark chocolate shaving Williams and Sonoma hot chocolate Kev gave us for Christmas? Or perhaps the chocolate soymilk or apple carrot juice… Amazing we don’t keel over in diabetic shock upon a weekly basis, really.
I’m not about to go all “Into the Wild” (fabulous book by the way), burning my money & setting off to die alone upon the Alaskan tundra, but it helps me to know my place in this world, in this life. I do what I can to earn my keep. I don’t need religion to want to serve others, and pay forward the gifts and kindnesses bestowed upon my thick head. And I truly remind myself to savor every delicious moment and calorie in this house, in this life. I was quite surprised in 6th grade to have won a writing contest at school. It was a holiday essay about the purpose of the holidays or some such. What I remember about it are just these 2 things: Garden Gate elementary had made a stealth call to my mom, so she took the time out from work to be there at the assembly. (or was that for when Matt Q. and I were voted “most athletic”?) and the only actual line I remember writing, was that when it comes to helping people who are homeless or poor, “it’s not much, but if every family helped out, it would eventually be enough.” Inside the Curmudgeon of H, I guess there has always been a little socialist liberal…and so, I have gratitude for this bounty. And I am arranging my stockpile of giveaway objects for my upcoming Havana trip.
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