How The Sausage is Made

[Image courtesy of Wikipedia]

For most of my life, I've been bombarded with numbers. Everywhere I look, there are strings of numbers waiting for me to divine their significance. In particular, there are several three-digit sequences that I see everywhere, among them the number 420. Every time it is 4:20, I happen to be looking at a clock. That's just the way it is. In the Angel Numbers article on 420, I found the phrase: "Your life purpose is an important one...." And, since I am me, this got me to thinking about life purposes and the relative importance thereof, and I came to the realization that there are no unimportant life purposes.

I've mentioned The Company for which I work many timers in this blog. I leave out The Company's name so that there is no confusion over whether the opinions I express here are endorsed by them or anyone else attached to The Company. But I will say that they are a major online retailer from whom you have probably ordered something at some point. I've been a loyal customer since they opened their doors, and I was thrilled to be able to work there. The concept is awesome: you click a button, and a few days later the desired item shows up at your door. Incredible! But how does it work?

In my work at The Company warehouse, I spend a lot of time driving forklifts, moving around heavy pallets of merchandise. There are quite a few other functions I perform there, all having to do with keeping the merchandise moving to its correct destination. Some of those functions are tedious and strenuous, and there are a surprising number of people who consider such work beneath them. "I can't stand this [silly] job." But whether I am picking a case of an item, or sorting it, or palletizing it, or loading it onto a truck, I know that that one item represents a hope to someone out there. Sometimes it is my hope, like when I ordered a nigh-bottomless hard drive on Cyber Monday and got it Wednesday (got an awesome deal on it, too). I get to see first-hand the well-tuned process whereby that hard drive made its way from Seagate to my front door, and every step in that process is vitally important.

I've had quite a few [silly] jobs over the years, doing things which are vital to keeping modern life running but about which nobody really wants to think. I've bagged groceries. I've mopped floors. I've answered phones in call centers. I've typed megabytes of data into countless computers, some of which was so important that people might die if it was not entered correctly. I weathered the Y2K "crisis" when an entire state's population was nervous about continuing to receive their Medicaid benefits. I've hauled trash. I've cut wood. I've assembled car parts. Are you even aware of the thousands upon thousands of steps by which crude oil and iron ore are transformed into an automobile? I am. And every step of that process is vital. If even one process is not performed properly, the car does not come into existence, and someone -- perhaps you -- does not get one, or at least not the one they wanted.

Or maybe you just have to bag your own groceries while your three kids wait impatiently and not soundlessly in the checkout lane. Have fun with that thought.

Whatever you do, no matter how lowly and unimportant it may seem, it is vital to someone. Maybe it isn't your life purpose to bag groceries or fry burgers. But it is important to fry those burgers as if they are the most important thing in the universe. Because, for one brief, shining moment, they are. To someone. Somewhere. Think about it, and you might agree with me.

Why So Thin?

I keep getting Facebook ads about how Rachael Ray has lost X number of pounds or whatnot. This dredges up a long-standing pet peeve of mine regarding television chefs: "Never trust a thin chef." I always trusted Emeril Lagasse and Mario Batali because I could see that they were indeed enjoying their own food. And what about Wolfgang Puck? Probably not. He may be one of those rare individuals who have an "inner Porkins" and can eat three times the amount I can and not gain any weight, but I doubt it. Then Rachael Ray came along, and I could tell she liked to eat, but she was young and pretty, and for some reason a young, pretty, fat girl is worthy of ridicule in the eyes of the public. So she buckled to public opinion and lost weight, most likely by denying herself the food she previously enjoyed.

The idea of "image" is one which I have tried for decades to eradicate in the minds of those who cross my path. Those of you who know me outside of the Internet know just how much effort I put into my appearance: as little as possible. I gave up wearing makeup years ago. I buy clothes based on a comfortable fit and colors which please me. My hair has two styles: up and down. Image is nothing more than a mask. I go to work or the store or the mall and I see a lot of people trying to project "a look," a style of dress and behavior which conforms to a particular social more, and all it projects to me is a lot of people pretending to be something they are not. Image covers up identity, the essence of a true person. My minimalist grooming proves repellent to some, but there are surprisingly many people who see past my "body image" and perceive the "real me." My body is like any other object in my life: nothing more than a tool to accomplish my twin goals of intellectual and spiritual enlightenment. I do my best to keep it in good working order by eating a balanced diet, stretching, exercising, taking dietary supplements to mitigate joint deterioration, and bathing regularly. I do this in the same way that I dust my computer, or wash my clothes, or water my garden.

Who I am is not my body. Like Walt Whitman said, I am not contained between my hat and boots. There are high and subtle layers to my self which I make no effort to hide, and most people either notice that rather than my physical artifact, or ignore me altogether. I'm fine with either, and I'm trying to teach that attitude to the world. If more people would break out of the prison which is image, the human species would become truly great.