The Buddhist Who Eats at Jack-in-the-Box

I am typing this from inside a Jack in the Box.  The smell of a fresh Supreme Croissant is wafting up from the table before me, perched next to my keyboard, still half contained in the wrapper, peeking out coyly.  In a few moments I will have eaten it, washed down with some delicious aspartame-enhanced Diet Coke, dispensed from a growling machine.  I come here most mornings, and give an enormous, faceless corporation $4.88 of my money to feed me Sysco bacon and non-diary imitation cheese.  From any perspective, the list of sins of this experience is long.  Vegetarians and Vegans would no doubt scold me for consuming a living animal.  Any nutritionist worth their salt would recoil in horror from the fat and salt, not to mention the ingredient list.  Organic food devotees would probably just lose their lunch (fava beans, raised locally).  Local food and slow food activists are probably already gathering to picket outside.

I am not thumbing my nose at these believers.  I have been a Vegetarian before.  I run marathons and study nutrition and believe wholeheartedly in a balanced diet.  I'm a fan of buying and eating locally.  And I'm as suspicious of GMOs as any quality San Franciscan would be.

So, why, then?  What's going on?  Am I living a lie?  Unable to face my demons, am I simply succumbing to my base desires?  Am I just a creature of habit?

Am I…a bad person?

I have, at times, fought my desire to eat fast food.  I threw every argument in the book at myself.  I looked at my Dad, a bit too paunch around the middle, and convinced myself I was headed for pot-bellied doom.  I told myself my marathon times would suffer.  I experienced some success here and there, especially during running season.  I, in fact, stopped eating fast food for 4 or 5 months.  I was miserable, slogging through mornings of cereal and fruit.  One day, bags under my eyes, I gazed at myself in the shaving mirror and realized: I hate this.  The emotion was so strong, I told myself I was a bad Yogi; a bad meditator; maybe, a bad person.  I felt lousy about myself.

What is the right answer?  Should I clamp down on my own behavior, keeping a tight grip on myself to ensure I never slip, hate myself for every failure, never trusting or loving myself enough to let go for even a moment?  Or, should I give up, enjoy the immediate pleasure of gorging myself on fast food, and then hate myself every time I look in the mirror?

No.  Both of these paths are founded on hate, mistrust, regret, fear.  I reject them and choose love for myself.  I choose the third path, the path of love, of patience, of kindness.  I love myself enough to eat the Supreme Croissant when I really, really want one.  But I also love myself enough to leave off the cheese.  I love myself enough to order the chocolate shake - but I also love myself enough to get the small, and to go running first.  I love myself enough to trust that I will make the right choices.  And the more I let go, the less anxiety I feel, and an interesting thing happens - my desire to eat fast food lessens.  It never goes away completely, because eating salt and fat is part of who I am.  It was part of my childhood.  It makes me feel safe (laugh if you want, but it does).  But now, when I do eat fast food, I'm eating what I really want to eat, not what my anxiety pushes me to consume to make me feel whole.  

There is a lesson here for anyone trying to lose weight, quit smoking, finish that dissertation, whatever it is: the more you hate, the more you fail.  When you try to pile up enough hate to succeed, you are like a man in a desert trying to fashion a drink of water out of more and more sand.  You cannot hate yourself enough to succeed at tasks like these - not in the long run, at least.  So, when self-deprivation feels like self-hate, it's not the right path.  But, at the same time, when indulgence feels like self-loathing, it's also time to stop.  When you reach for that cigarette, or that double cheeseburger, do so mindfully, fully aware and accepting of the present.  Enjoy it fully.  When you're halfway done, check in with yourself - do you need the second half?  Could you maybe be happy with just putting out that light, or throwing away the second half?  If the answer is no, then keep going - if yes, put it down.  Depending on who you are, you may just find yourself wanting it less and less, and perhaps eventually you'll really quit.  Or maybe you won't.

But at least you won't hate yourself.

P.S. I'm not, actually, a Buddhist; just a fan of the principles and precepts.  But it made for a nicer title.

Practical Tips for Building Self-Esteem

Last week's post about living a life of ease was pretty popular, so I thought I'd follow up with another post about a favorite topic of mine: self-esteem.  Given the city of overachievers that San Francisco is, a logical person (who was perhaps unfamiliar with the human species) might assume that all of have zero problems with self-esteem.  Anyone willing to admit that?  Hands?  Anyone?  I didn't think so.  Tips:

1. You Already Did Step One - just by clicking on this title, and reading this page, you've made the first step: admitting it's something you're interested in, and being curious to do more.  Unfortunately, the people who most need to read this won't click it, because they feel there's no point, and that they don't deserve to feel any better about themselves.  So when you're done with this, figure out a way to show it - politely and subtly - to someone who could use it.  Print it but don't pick it up from the work printer.  Put it on your fridge for your roommates.  (Just don't email it; we don't need more chain emails).

2.  Worry About It Less - Ironically, this is not one of those problems that gets better with more attention.  Just relax, let go - see my last post for more tips about that.  A great quote from C.S. Lewis belongs here:  "Humility is not thinking less of yourself; it's thinking about yourself less."

3.  Accept Your Faults - Many of us are good at acknowledging our own positive attributes and successes (maybe too good).  But self-esteem is more than just that; it's also accepting our faults.  Here's a quiz: which is easier - being perfect at everything, or accepting the things you're not good at?  Have you ever found yourself using the phrases "good people don't X", or "I can't believe I X"?  Ever gotten to the end of an awesome day kicking butt and taking names, only to quail at the sight of your filthy kitchen?  Do you think Oprah ever forgets to brush her teeth before she leaves for work?

4.  Take A Compliment - This one is especially for you, ladies - but men, listen up as well.  We live in a potentially scary and duplicitous world, one in which we try to have lots and lots of acquaintances, rather than just a few folks we know well.  Compared to 50 years ago, everybody is expected to have 300 LinkedIn contacts, 800 Facebook friends, and god knows how many drinking buddies.  But, as a consequence, we mistrust people - and nowhere is this more true than when we receive a compliment.  Have you ever been guilty of thinking "What does this person want from me?  Why are they being so nice to me?  Money?  Sex?  My time and energy?"  The unspoken message is "I can't possibly be this great; they must be lying for some reason."  And, sure, sometimes people do use flattery to their advantage.  But if you assume that every person who flatters you is insincere, you will never recognize sincere flattery.  That means no love, no affection, and no praise - and that's kind of sad, isn't it?  Sometimes people honestly just like you.

5.  Sincerely Admire Others - It's an interesting fact, but the "esteem engine" of the brain is a little like a muscle, and like any muscle, it works better when we exercise it.  It turns out that self-esteem is easier if we practice a little bit of other-esteem.  This does not mean that we should idolize other people, or get engaged in hero worship.  It just means taking the time to honestly recognize what others do well, and then admiring them for it.  Even better if you tell them!  (Just be sincere).

6.  It's Not A Zero-Sum Game - Sure, competition can be fun.  But the great thing about self-esteem is that there's plenty to go around.  In fact, when done right, self-esteem breeds more self-esteem.  So to have self-esteem, we don't have to extract it from others.  Nobody has to win or lose.  To feel good about yourself does not require making others feel bad about themselves - in fact you'll find that if you can surround yourself with people who have true self-esteem, it will help you build it in yourself.

7.  Self-Esteem Is Not Ego - In fact, it's kind of the opposite.  Ego advertises; self-esteem is modest.  Ego takes the credit; self-esteem is humble.  Ego wants to be in charge; self-esteem wants to make a positive contribution.  Ego wants to be remembered; self-esteem is remembered.  Ego is loud, self-esteem is quiet.  There's nothing wrong with Ego, per se: it can be fun, and a positive force.  But never mistake the two; building your ego will not build your self-esteem, and neither will having positive self-esteem cause you to become egotistical.  Self-esteem is a recognition of the value of the self; ego is a desire to control, to be superior to others.  Ego is a zero-sum game.  Self-esteem is not.

8.  Avoid Putting Yourself Down - Yes, sometimes self-deprecating humor can be entertaining.  People love a clown.  But remember the Lewis quote - true humility means having the confidence in yourself to have an interest in others.  Self-esteem is like a well-built house; it gives you the peace of mind to explore the outside, without worrying about whether you'll have shelter to come home to.  Putting yourself down - even humorously - too often can cause you to honestly think those things about yourself.  Questioning yourself will lead to a frantic desire to feel better, which will often drive you back to the humor and start a cycle.  It's OK to laugh with yourself, and to acknowledge the humor in your own flaws and mistakes.  But don't make a habit of inviting others - or yourself - to think less of you.

9. Revel In Your Own Uniqueness - Obvious, right?  But easy to forget.  What makes us different make us valuable.  We need similarity to breed trust and compatibility; but we need differences to keep us happy and healthy.  The world needs you, just the way you are - not a copy of somebody else.  We already have that person.

10.  Remember the Basics - Get some sleep.  Eat well.  Get some exercise.  Ease up on the caffeine.  It's hard to feel good about yourself when you physically feel bad about yourself.  Not because it makes you a better person, but because it makes it easier to remember what a great person you already are.

Hope this helps!  And, as always, take with a grain of salt - if anything here doesn't feel right for you, don't do it!

--Adam

Practical Tips for a Life of More Ease

In honor of the summer, when we chill out and look for ways to take a break, today I'm going to blog about some practical tips for leading a life of more ease and happiness.  "Happiness" is a loaded term, but in this case I don't mean pleasure, but rather the freedom of a centered life.  Less anxiety, more awareness.  So here we go!

1.  Get Some Sleep - studies show that lack of sleep has wide, wide ranging consequences.  In addition to the obvious, such as inability to operate a motor vehicle, there are consequences for health and happiness as well.  It doesn't take a brain surgeon to see that operating on less sleep increases cortisol levels, raises anxiety levels and can even cause us to gain weight.  So why do we do it?  Well, sometimes there are genuine health issues, such as sleep apnea.  If you wake up tired after 8-9 hours of continuous sleep, see a doctor.  But if you're just not going to sleep - stop it!  Go to sleep!

2.  Don't Get Attached To Your Stuff - OK, none of us wants to be a Buddhist monk and renounce all material possessions.  I'm kind of fond of this laptop I'm typing on, for example.  But the key is not to get too hung up on them.  At Dharma Punx last night, founder Noah Levine had this to say: connect to your possessions, enjoy them, but remember that someday they will break.  His advice: look at them as if they are already broken.  Imagine what that will be like, and then let go of it and just enjoy the moment.  How to know when it's not going well?  When you feel like your possessions own you.  The next time you find yourself driving to the storage shed to drop off another box, ask yourself: could I do without?

3.  Exercise - Along with sleep, this is a no-brainer.  Literally: one of the best ways to shut off the anxiety and cortisol loop is to elevate the heart rate and burn it off.  Exercise improves blood flow and enhances sleep (just don't do it too close to bedtime).  And even a little bit helps: there's no minimum.  If you don't have time to work out, trying jogging to the car, or lifting arm weights while sitting at your desk.

4.  Meditate - OK, so this is where I lose some people.  Isn't meditation religion?  Isn't it creepy?  Won't I just get bored?  Well, no, no, and probably not.  Meditation is nothing more than just letting your thoughts flow for a minute.  Like a river that's been dammed up, your thoughts often circle around, building up pressure until they break through.  With meditation, we don't dry up the river, we just encourage it to flow, regarding what moves past with casual interest but no particular attachment.  It's really the art of genuinely doing nothing.  Not watching-30-Rock-and-eating-ice-cream-and-thinking-about-the-mortgage nothing, but real honest nothing.  Our grandparents would probably have called this "sitting down".  If you live in San Francisco, try SF Insight on Sunday nights, Dharma Punx on Fridays, or the SF Buddhist Center's beginning meditation classes on Thursday nights.  Or just do it in the comfort of your own home!

5. Give - One of the best ways to get perspective is to get out and do something for somebody else.  Volunteering at the soup kitchen, helping kids with their homework, boxing up clothes for Salvation Army - all of these things force us to take a step back.  And they make us feel better about ourselves.

6. Don't Work So Hard - America is one of the most overworked countries in the world.  So take a break.  Honestly.  Nobody will miss you.  Leave an hour early and just sit in your car and space out.  Take Friday afternoon off and go fishing.  Seriously, nothing will happen.  Except you might get a little less stressed out.

7.  Don't Look To Other People (or Things) to Solve Your Problems - this is called "externalization", and it's just not helpful.  You probably already know this, but you do it anyway.  Try this exercise: imagine your biggest problem suddenly going away.  Would everything be better?  Or would something else just become the "biggest problem"?  Of course, sometimes we really do have big problems.  But think back over your life: how many times in your life did you honestly have a really big problem?  Once?  Twice?  A half dozen times?  And how many times have you worried about things that didn't turn out to be such a big deal?

8.  Tomorrow Doesn't Exist - Really.  It kinda doesn't.  So don't put off your own happiness and pleasure.  Waiting for something?  Enjoy the journey, not the destination.  Being miserable about it probably won't make it happen faster.  All we really have is this moment - I bet if you think hard enough you can find a way to enjoy it.

9.  Put The Keyboard Down - And the phone, and the tablet.  It's really not surprising that humans require human interaction.  After all, it's what we had to do to survive for millions of years.  We haven't adapted - at least not yet - to all this computer stuff.  So get back to basics - find a friend, get a frisbee, throw that sucker around.  There's no e-frisbee.

10.  Go Have a Hot Fudge Sundae - or a plate of french fries, or a funnel cake with strawberries, or whatever it is that floats your boat.  Just get the small - you don't need the large.  And savor each bite.  After the first couple, you might be full, so just stop eating.  But do nice things for yourself - you deserve it, and giving yourself the freedom to be good to yourself will help you be good to others.

That's it for now - take all these tips with a grain of salt.  I hope it helps!  Enjoy!

--Adam

Love

I am going to try to do one of the most egotistical things man can do - write about love.  Even worse, I'm going to sprinkle some quotes in and act like I know what I'm talking about.  It's fantastically unlikely that anything I say won't have been said - or close to it - many thousands of times before.  But the words are inside me, and they need to be let out, and now is my time, and this is my space.  I'm not at all a Christian, but I'll let the Bible have the first word.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. - 1 Corinthians 13:4–6 (NIV)

I have loved more than one or two people in my time.  I'm proud of that.  I don't regret it.  My love was honest, my love was genuine.  My love was true.  I meant well, always.  I never cheated, I rarely lied on purpose.  I thought, perhaps, my honesty was enough.

 The truth will set you free. - John 8:32 (NIV)

It turns out, though, honesty is not enough.  Over the last 5 years, I have turned to Dharma, to become more at peace with myself.  And through the teachings, I have learned the power of loving kindness, what Dharma calls metta.  I learned of the four noble houses, and their counterparts, the false houses, or the near enemies - emotions which seem to mimic the noble truths but are twisted.  The near enemy of metta is selfish affection.  This is a key phrase, and worth pulling apart.  It doesn't mean affection for oneself, or narcissism, although that's certainly bad too. Rather it means affection for others which is, by its nature, a desire to use that thing or person for self gain - the "grasping affection".

“If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it is yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.”
—Unknown

Selfish affection is the opposite of loving kindness; it's the desire to trap something, to have it for yourself, even at the expense of others.  I'm happy that I love.  I know some take the step of removing all desire, but for me that doesn't resonate.  I can't believe that love - even romantic love - is a bad thing.  And yet, I have to be so careful.  "Love is not self-seeking."  It is our duty to love and honor ourselves, and that includes our own feelings, but that love, even clothed in honesty, cannot be used as a weapon against the happiness of others.   Just because I love something, or someone, doesn't mean that I deserve them, or deserve to control them.  No matter how much I may desire something, it doesn't give me the right to have it.  On the other hand, I can't be so worried about how my desires might affect others that I stop honoring and valuing that desire.  I deserve to be happy, and to express my feelings.  The challenge, and the balancing act, is to express those feelings without expecting them to have any results, or to demand that other people validate them.  To truly be able to say "I love you" and not mean "I want to control you" is the key.  But it's also incredibly hard.

Empty Chairs, not Empty Tables

Welcome, world! A brief nod to the obvious fact that it's been quite a while since I updated this blog. A lot has changed in my life: new jobs, a new degree, a new business. What hasn't changed is my commitment to staying true to the values of meditation, yoga and massage: the combination "soft fist" of firm, unyielding acceptance.

 The biggest change, relevant to this blog, is that I no longer participate in the same Dharma circle that I previously did. That circle, alas, has moved on. But I still belong to several awesome meditation groups, including the HUB Bay Area, Dharma Punx, and SF Insight. And I still practice.

One interesting thing about the Dharma, which separates it to some extent from Yoga, or massage, is that it truly is a life philosophy. That is, although you can use meditation as a practice which starts and stops, in reality it is a life-long habit, which is always with us. It's no coincidence that one dominant form of meditation practice, especially here in the Bay, is the vipassana, or breathing meditation. Much like breathing, meditation is a state which can and should follow us at all times - just as we never stop breathing, we never stop coming back to the breath, to our center. Usually this constant nature of existence is just a background to our lives, but occasionally it shows itself, often when we least expect it. As if by gentle reminder, life pushes something into our path that drags us back to awareness of the wonder and mystery of life itself, and consciousness. And the other day, I had one of those experiences.

This weekend, I met my Ragnar team for a quick jog and brunch at the Vault Cafe in Berkeley (incidentally, try the mimosa: it's amazing). We sat down to eat and were waiting for one of our party, so we asked the waiter to set the table for 6 even though there were only 5 of us. He was a slightly older gentleman, who later revealed himself to be one of the owners - and he gave us quite an odd look. When we noticed his confusion, he stopped, started to speak, clearly came to some internal decision, and then began to tell a story.

"You may notice my odd look," he said. "And I apologize, but you see, for me your empty place has special meaning." And he told us this: one day, several years ago, a man came in to eat. He was young, younger than me - perhaps mid twenties - clean, well groomed, with a pleasant demeanor and a warm smile. He asked for a table for two, and was given one, complete with two place settings. The owner served him personally. When asked if he was waiting for someone, he said no. But when he ordered, he ordered two complete meals; two entrees, two drinks, etc. Of course these days a waiter might ask twice, but the owner clearly came from the generation that doesn't pry, and so he didn't - he just served two plates. He watched, in amazement, as the young man treated the second, empty place with dignity and care. The chair was pulled out for the (non-existent) guest to sit. Food was served. I asked the owner if he heard the young man actually speak to the empty chair, and he said generally no, but he was deferential and pleasant, as if an honored guest or a loved one was dining with him. He would fold the napkin, fill the water glass. This went on for the entire meal. The staff, bewildered, finally asked if he wanted the food boxed or saved. No, he said, just the check, thank you. He paid, and left behind a substantial tip.

The first time, they saved the food for hours, in case he might come back. But he did not; at least, not that day. But the following week, he showed up again.


And so it has been now, for several years, almost every week. The young man comes in, sits at a table for two, orders for two, pays and leaves a substantial tip, and leaves. Nobody knows why, nobody asks.

This story touches me in so many ways, but first and foremost is the power of love. For what else can you call it? This man is in love - with someone, something. Is it a past wife? A lover? A parent? Perhaps, he is, as they sometimes say, "in love with love itself". But this love, this deep and abiding respect, resonates out beyond this one young man, to touch the lives of many others. It has touched the life of the owner - he told us, with no mockery in his voice, that this young man is like a hero to him, and has taught him the power of love. Every time he sees him, he says, he is a little nicer to his wife and children, more pleasant to strangers, more *aware* of the magic and mystery that is all around us, ready to be seen at all times if only we look. "This man is a model for society," the owner said. "If only we all could follow his example."

I find myself touched as well, by the owner's deference and patience in not prying. When I asked him about it he just shrugged. "He is hurting no-one," he said. "Why should I not allow him to do as he pleases? In fact, I welcome him."

What is love? What is life? Why are we here? What is the meaning of our existence? Is it madness to fill an empty chair with love? Perhaps. Some might say this man needs help. One member of our table speculated on the nature of his mental illness. But I am not so sure. Are we mad to seek love where there is nothing? I have seen the power of love manifest on my own life, the joy that comes from being in love, from loving without any expectation of return. Perhaps this is the ultimate in unconditional love; the love that loves for its own sake. It's certainly true that it's more fun to love a real person than an empty chair.

Consider, though, how much time we spend on un-love for things that don't exist; past lovers, political ideals, imagined demons inside ourselves. The imaginary weight we need to lose, the trip to the gym that we didn't make. Like the empty chair, none of these things exist, and yet we often spend enormous amounts of time and energy hating them.

 I don't know the answers. And, perhaps, in the end, that's the best lesson of all.

 --A

Dharma Leadership - Engaged Buddhism

Next week I will be leading my Sangha on the topic of Engaged Buddhism. I recently became interested in this topic after reading Thomas Merton's version of "Gandhi: On Non-Violence." In his works, Gandhi advocated a unique blend of Christian and Hindu activism based on non-violence. I'm particularly interested in his focus on political activism. In reading, I was struck by the juxtaposition with my recent trip to the Abayaghiri Monastery. In their particular sect of Buddhism, the monks at Abayaghiri do no work. They rely entirely on the generosity of others.

How do we reconcile these viewpoints?

First, Gandhi:

II-216: "Intellectual work is important and has an undoubted place in the scheme of life. But what I insist on is the necessity of physical labor. No man, I claim, ought to be free from that obligation."

I-170: "I could not be leading a religious life unless I identified myself with the whole of mankind, and that I could not do unless I took part in politics. The gamut of man's activities today constitutes an indivisible whole. You cannot divide social, political, economic and purely religious work into watertight compartments."

In this, Gandhi is somewhat echoing the Bhagavad Gita, a work he was strongly influenced by. In there we find the concept of dharma as religious duty.

Gandhi was not, of course, a Buddhist, rather believing in the essential goodness of man and the concept of ahisma above any particular religion. And yet we do think of him as a man of peace, certainly an ascetic and a man who would regularly pray and fast.

The Tao Te Ching tells us "There is no disaster greater than not being content". "He who puts it in order will ruin it." "There may be gold and jade filling the chamber but there are none that can keep them safe".

The Buddha tells us "Desire is the root of evil, illusion is the root of evil.” He tells us "The greatest effort is not concerned with results."

There is no question that Gandhi suffered, and suffered greatly.

What would the Buddha think of Mahatma Gandhi?

Story Time - Six Kinds of Falafel

Sometimes I have experiences that teach me something about humanity, and myself, in the strangest places.

Dateline: The Rum Jungle Buffet, in the Casino Fandango, Carson City, NV. Saturday, the middle of November. After a long day on the ski slopes teaching little kids, I'm itching - for some reason - for the typical Las Vegas casino buffet experience, and Carson City is the closest place. Carson City is the intersection of suburbia and the gambling economy. Nestled on the border of Nevada and California east of Lake Tahoe, it is both somewhere and nowhere at the same time, and this is also an apt description of the Casino Fandango. I drive through a strip mall into a deceptively large garage, park, and walk through the cold dry Nevada air into what could be a conference center except for the overly large neon sign advertising a cover band for a band I'd never heard of. Fandango is busy inside; wheels are spinning, lights are flashing. There's less smoke than you would expect and it's actually quieter than you would think, especially in the back towards the restaurant.

The Rum Jungle is tacky, overdone and garish, but for all of that it has a homey feel. I'm there late, about 8:30 PM, and the place is not very busy. A Hispanic man vacuums the floor. He has to keep moving the cord to find a new plug. Fake fans rotate - purely for show - above the extremely well lit containers of food. The food, incidentally, is surprisingly good. I chat with the chef about one dish, a shrimp dish he appears to have invented with cheese and bell peppers. He seems proud, and eager to discuss it.

I sit in a booth next to a family - 3 of them, an older woman, a younger woman and a younger man. I quickly assign them roles - she's the mother, then a daughter and the daughter's boyfriend or husband. I could be wrong, of course. All 3 are overweight. The mother is particularly obese. They are cheery; they're having a good time, and I quickly understand why these sorts of casinos are so ubiquitous. This family - this very normal American lower middle class family - is having a great time, at a cost they can afford.

At one point the mother comes back from the buffet with a full plate, beaming broadly at the other two. I can overhear their whole conversation. "Look," she says, "they have six kinds of falafel! Can you believe that?" The others nod and smile. The mood brightens even more.

This woman - this 50-something woman - is excited because the buffet has six kinds of falafel. This is a person who - I am quite certain - would not go into a falafel restaurant, were there one in Carson City. I would not be shocked if she wasn't entirely clear on what falafel was; this is not a commentary on her intelligence, more to bring up the question: Why is she so excited? What's so positive about the falafel that it should make her so happy?

It's clearly not the falafel. It's not even about food; she has plenty. She is not excited about eastern cuisine. I think the first clue is how excited she is to get back to the table and show the others. The falafel is exciting because she gets to share it with her family. She's actually in a hurry to show them. And they play their parts perfectly; they're excited because she is. This woman would not have been nearly as excited if she was on her own; in fact she most likely wouldn't have come to the buffet at all. And I realize something: she is excited *because she feels important*. The falafel isn't there to be eaten; it's there as a symbol; an indication that, in return for her $22.95, this particular casino at this particular time cares that she is there; in fact, cares so much that they are willing to create six kinds of this exotic dish *just to impress her*. She is impressed *because someone tried to impress her*, and for no other reason. What this woman wanted, and wants, is what we all want: not things, not food nor money, but acknowledgment that we are important, that we matter, that someone cares that we're here and that our opinion is important. She had gathered her family together - and paid - for precisely that feeling.

This, of course, is not big news. We all know this. And yet, we often strive for the falafel of life, confused about what it is we really want and why we want it. What we want is love, and empathy, and affection. Falafel is, at best, the means to an end, but it is that end that I want to strive for. And so, sitting alone in that buffet, I realized that this woman had me beat. She had family.

I only had the falafel.