Key Food Mona Lisa

I live really close to the Key Food in Windsor Terrace, and have been shopping there for about 10 years. It's changed so much, it's a much more cheerful place than it used to be. When I go there, I know it's going to be a pretty mundane experience loaded with tremendous ambivalence. Still some naive romantic part of my brain seizes on the name of the store and believes one day I'll find some golden key there, the key to happiness, to eternal life, a perfectly balanced diet or to effortless dinners.

There's a young woman that's worked there for years. She reminds me of Da Vinci's masterpiece, she's very graceful and poised, quiet, knowing, has this air of nobility. She seems to be respected and trusted by the people she works with. She doesn't seem friendly, or at least she's not to me. I imagine she's pretty bored by her job, and has the air of the princess traded up for the pauper. She's been getting thinner and thinner, and I worry about that.

I used to be so aloof. Now I'm more like one of those really friendly dogs that walks up to everyone wagging its tail and grinning its big dog grin. Hoping to be scratched behind the ears and not kicked. About 2 years ago some weird things started happening to me, I felt called to work with some shaman I was lucky enough to find, Joe Monkman and Irma Cacares. Since then I've been shedding various kinds of..umm... psychological defenses... and my experience of life has become more rich, raw, and weird, my pride grately diminished (as you can tell from all the typos.) Not that I'm 100% cured, no... In fact, my atheist husband would no doubt tell you that I am much more annoying than I used to be. But I will tell you in all honesty that the part of my heart that seemed atrophied is now soaked with whatever liquor it is that's supposed to run through it, and I'm happily drunk (in the Sufi sense) more of the time.

The other thing I've loved has been hearing the lectures of Matthew Reichers, who teaches about meditation and Buddhism at Devi on most Thursday nights. He's dropped so many golden keys of wisdom in my lap that it makes a really loud noise when I stand up. In earnest! One practitioner there calls him the dharma bomb, which is a compelling combination of words.

I don't think about where I should shop as much, although one day I do hope to join the Food Coop. But if my track record with returning library books has any power to predict how reliably I'll serve my work shift, I'm better off steering clear of the whole thing and saving my time for meditation.