Tag Archives: Buddhist

Change and the New Breakfast

Two Octobers ago, I lost my favorite breakfast.

For about seven years prior, I could confidently walk into a Perkins restaurant and order my usual: Granny’s Omelet with pancakes, large o.j., a glass of water. Day or night, yumsville.

But when I welcomed it to my table that blighted day in October, fork and knife in hands, tablecloth tucked under my chin, after a few bites I knew. The thrill was gone.

Of the three certainties in life- death, taxes and Granny’s omelet- you’d think you could entrust your existential eggs to the Perkins basket.

But at a time when I was trying to eat better and less, that carb-generous meal didn’t do it for me. I had to say goodbye to what was no longer working.

Again: I had to say goodbye to what was no longer working.

Humans can change, but we do have attachments, don’t we? Especially to things that aren’t completely good for us, strangely enough. The Buddhist tradition says suffering happens because we desire other than what is.

I had to give up something, but it was no longer what I desired anyway. How often do I do the same things because of dumb momentum? Or because I can’t imagine an alternative to my well-worn routine? We think we’re pretty smart, masters of our selfhood domains, but we’re non-rational creatures, too.

Last week, I finally read “Who Moved My Cheese,” the parable about change from Spencer Johnson. (Thanks, Mutti!) In the tale, mouse-ish characters deal with a new fact in their lives: their cheese is gone. The solution for our heroes comes as a revelation: Seek other cheese. (Duh.)

Whatever is changing for you, it might be a good thing. In fact- holy Candide, Batman- it might be the best possible thing.

Wayne Dyer once visited a radio station to do an interview. When he arrived, he was told the station was being sold to a whole new format, and everyone was losing their jobs. He responded by congratulating them. He told them this was great news, that in the coming year each one would likely find a better job and be happier than they were presently.

What if we saw every change as a gift, as an open door? Every moment of decision is the occasion for your next evolution.

How’s your breakfast?

You can move on, you know.

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