I waited a year for its arrival.
But when the sought-after treat finally dropped anchor at my front door, I’d pitched it into the garbage within minutes.
You do realize, don’t you, that I’m talking about a Danish Kringle?
I know, right? 🙂 Humble beginnings that tell a story.
The Kringle’s annual appearance was no longer a surprise. Each season, with predictable regularity, management dispatched a package of goodies for the holidays.
Anticipating this mouth-pleasuring sugar rush was definitely something to look forward to. And I did. Each year of three.
Carbon-copy this year – same Danish pastry, same delivery around the Solstice.
Yet something had changed. In me.
On this occasion, I decided to scrutinize the dietary data before tucking right in. Retiring my annual ‘holiday pass’ to plead ignorance, as I’d always done before.
I looked and I noticed. The extra ingredients I’d eschew under normal circumstances appeared in bold, disgusting detail. GMOs. Corn syrup. Dyes. Preservatives … omg, feeling sick already.
But nutritional sticker-shock was not the point.
Rather, it was an attention to detail that matched integrity with choice-making.
Wowza. Was that my imagination? Or did some massive billboard just pop out of the ethers to announce a change of plans?
Truth of it was, that no ‘decision to change’ had been made at all. Since each step had emerged by itself, like a superconducting flow on auto-pilot. Nice.
Just one simple, sensory sequence: hello Kringle, thank you, goodbye Kringle, garbage pail. Done.
No resistance whatsoever — to the stark clarity of an outer choice reflecting a span-new alignment with inner integrity. Dance partners, groovin’ on the same tune.
(Minor oddity: feeling grateful for a gift, coupled with its hasty toss-to-trash, came as a surprise. But even these two odd fellows had revealed themselves as compatible bunkmates.)
Let’s face it. We’ve conjured multitudes of mind mock-ups for millennia.
John Lennon knew how it went down, “life happens while we’re busy making other plans”. Hear ya, bro.
Spotlighting the end-game misplaces the moment.
And when you think about it … isn’t it obvious how each anticipation is also an outcome? One simple moment — with a double surname.
Looks like we’re on track to savor another year of sweet inspiration. Minus the empty calories. Yummy …
Anticipation, Of pleasure yet to come, Is pleasure itself.
Haiku
I find myself awakened, revelling in every drop of anticipation dripping wet in the ripe, rich fruit of life, flowing effortlessly into the unexpected joy of being alive.
Mary Oliver