Microwave – A fascinating look at lovelessness

Yesterday for a quick lunch I decided to stop by a sandwich shop before a conference. The signs outside were calm but charismatic describing sandwich after sandwich in sheer delight. A great day for a sandwich, wind was calm, temperature still very comfortable even though it’s 5pm, a peaceful day overall. Workday was over so I felt pretty good. Moving on… Grilled onions, melted cheese, on a heated bun; freshly cut avocados and tomatoes laced with vine ripened tomato sauce; a toasted peppercorn bun grilled with organic high grade angus meats and honey hams; etc… I used to frequent this sandwich shop somewhat often a few years back. Great decoration indoors – felt like stepping somewhere else just for a moment.

After looking through the menus 90 times over and calculating which subsets of food would most satisfy me per my usual ritual I get ready to order. I place my order then stare into space as I start imagining how great my sandwich will turn out. I remember how they’ve always made excellent sandwiches. Just the right amount of everything. I remember the great times I’ve had bringing people over and having a sandwich with them. Just enjoying the great food and environment. All the good times we’ve had over these sandwiches. Oh man I can’t wait to bite into that juicy meat flanked by various melted cheeses then balanced with all kinds of fresh lettuce tomatoes and other plant family entities. How they’ve always used the highest quality ingredients – fresh vegetables and moist meats. Can’t wait to have the irresistable sauce dripping down all over my hands and how *bloomp* I take a chunk of that perfect artisan like baked bread and *ka-clunk* soak up the sauce which has *beep* fallen onto *beep* the plate. Mmmm. Those *beep* were simpler *beep* times, good times. Did someone hear something? *whiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrr…* Huh What’s that noise – what’s going on? As my perception focuses from the mental realm back onto the physical realm I see the dreaded box has taken my sandwich. What!?? Nooooooooooooo….

For more background on why I don’t like microwaves (logical reasons) read the following:

http://www.mercola.com/article/microwave/hazards.htm

Anyway the microwave has defiled the sanctity of my soon to be devoured meal. Everything sacred about the experienced was gone – all gone. I felt like another number, another meaningless object of no value. The meal about to be served to me would be a reflection of that meaningless. No fire grilled onions or warm freshly baked buns here. No I don’t deserve such an honor. I am to be fed the food of lovelessness – microwaved sandwich. No one cares that I am happy or not. They just care to satisfy me in the quickest and most effcient way possible. A way which would maximize the ratio of cost over time for the company. A way which left no room for class, aesthetics, and grace. “As long as it’s hot…”, that was the only goal. Just get er’ done and get him out of here.

I used to have that attitude but during my tribulation period I found out how costly it would be to harbor it. If you show no love you get no love back – the law of karma. Back then I didn’t love myself either so until I found myself I felt like I was abandoned by the world. No one cared – I did not even care for myself. That has all changed now. Most people haven’t found that love in themselves though. I haven’t even found all of it in myself but even the smallest droplets turned my world around. Most people live in a loveless blur – they are suspicious of everyone and everything. They care only for themselves. They do this because the outer world is an exact reflection of their inner thoughts. (law of manifestation anyone?) They are convinced no one loves them – so they love no one else – which perpetuates the cycle of getting no love back. The microwave is just but one symbol of that loss of love in today’s society.

I remember this one trip many years back where a bunch of us would go get a cabin for a weekend. One day I woke up and a friend of mine offered to cook me some eggs. “No that’s alright I can cook my own eggs…” I responded. Little did anyone know that inside I almost cried milliseconds after she smiled and made that innocent offer. In my brain I was thinking WTF isn’t this the kind of emotional response people get put on drugs for?! I thought I had gone insane – A simple query almost broke me down into tears. Someone cares about me?!?!?! NO, THAT CAN’T BE POSSIBLE – WHY WOULD ANYONE CARE ABOUT ME?! Why would someone expend time and effort to make me happier – the world does NOT work like that! Even if the goal was not to make me happy but an offer to increase efficiency and save themselves some work – even an offer “just because” it would be convient to fill up the fryer with eggs instead of just having 2 on the pan. The fact that another being outside of myself would even consider me broke me inside – I only realized many years later this was the case because I had abandoned loving myself.

Another incident a couple years back I went to a party and I got drunk. I was heavy into partying and barhopping and clubs at that time because I just fell out with someone I cared about. (this same person was a major catalyst in changing my life around) Anyway as I was stumbling around making the most incoherent comments a friend of mine asked me to give him my keys. I was thinking in my drunken haze, “haha wtf you think I’m that drunk that I’ll just give away possessions on command?” Well he repeated himself again – I was curious, I asked “why?” He responded, “Because you’re too drunk to drive home”. I told him I’d be alright, I then asked why he would offer to do something like that. He responded something along the lines of, “because I care about you…”. In my half drunken state as soon as the words settled into my consciousness I did that half jerk half open mouth puff people do before they are about to totally break down and cry. Once again I had another emotional attack – wth. Someone says they care about me and that almost drives me down into tears. I think I admitted in my drunk state that I almost cried or something to that effect as he made that comment. In my thoughts it broke me because I didn’t love myself – why would anyone else want to love me?

Anyway – going back to the microwave – many people have attachments to a good old homecooked meal. The words “home” on any restaurant menu’s items will instantly drive up the desire for that item. home cooked breakfast, home fries, home etc… What is it about home cooked meals that make them so much more desirable over microwaved meals? Taste – yes. But I argue there’s something greater – love.

When someone cooks for you – they are giving a part of themselves for you. Especially if they HATE cooking. The fact that they’d expend the time and effort that they could be using to serve themselves just to serve you is an act of pure love. The act of selflessness for another is a love so deep that even mere hints of it (like in my stories above) would break me in two. The microwave is such a simple and loveless thing to do – it’s easy to put stuff in the box, turn it on, and continue expending energy in serving my own selfish interests. Someone should make a formula on how love is equally proportional to effort. Love energy is derived from physical work energy. I think the proportion of love you send someone is equal to the amount of power and effort put into it. Which would say I love you more – opening a packet of seasoning + food and throwing that into the microwave or me slaving in the kitchen for hours to make you something I hope you enjoy. It’s not so much the food – even if it tastes bad I’d still enjoy it. For me it’s the fact you care. The fact that you love me. Something the microwave can never hope to accomplish.

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