I see a balding man in a black t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. He’s in the freezer aisle. He pulls open a door and hefts a weighty box of frozen burritos. He surveys it for a moment, exhales and settles into himself a little before chucking it into his nearly empty cart.
In that ponderous moment I imagine much more being evaluating than perhaps simple cost or calorie-count of a potential purchase. No, this decision carried with it much more… maybe an evaluation of everything… of life and station and wellbeing…
“Here I am again, in Wal Mart, buying another box of mass-produced burritos because I finished the last one. Oh shit man, is this my life? Isn’t there more? Am I happy or am I just grinding? Are these burritos even good? Do I even like burritos? What the hell am I even doing?”
Because, there are so many other ways to live.
This corporate run-in-place McMansion megachurch rat-race is certainly one of them, and even an enjoyable one at times. You know… talking about your 401k, where you went on your latest vacation, pretending to know good Scotch or where to get the best steak in Manhattan. Small Group meets Wednesday, happy hour Friday and the wife’s got spin after dropping the kids off at school. Oh look my Amazon package is here!
Yesterday I met a guy who legit hops trains and wanders. He described himself as an “anarchist, free-spirit, whatever.” He had one bag, a guitar, a dog, and face tattoos of railroad tracks and a compass rose. He saw my Dead t-shirt and asked if I had any grass. I didn’t, but we still chatted on the corner where he was busking for a good 15min.
There are so many other ways to live. Fare there well, JR. Hope you found some grass and a warm place to sleep last night.