Burrito and Something Deeper
I admire burritos, both in taste and in composition. To me, they represent a kind of order lacking in many foods, a melody and a rhyme that can only be touched by a select few delicacies. Properly prepared, a burrito will contain many ingredients, almost perfectly arranged in a symbiotic gathering of facilitive foodstuffs. The meat, the cheese, the rice, the beans, the guacamole, and the outside covering that provides protection are all integral to the taste of the whole.
In the burrito, as many of you will find rather odd and evidence to support the hypothesis that I am in fact weird, I find a metaphor for life. My body is composed of such manors of ingredients, and really they are many of the same substances in a slightly different form. More importantly, all parts of my being are contributive to the whole of myself. Without each and every one, I would somehow not be quite the same.
A burrito might have holes inside its outer tortilla covering; its foundation and structural integrity may be lacking somewhat. I know people I can describe in much the same way. A burrito could contain myriads of different ingredients, and no two burritos are exactly the same. Again, no two humans are clones of each other, and each brings a new taste to the world upon entering this warm life-filled chamber we dub Earth.
As Walt Whitman said, “All truths wait in all things.”
I find truth in the burrito.
On a slightly different note, the final act of entering the food product development contest, of which I have not yet completed, is e-mailing the report to the sponsoring company. I have possession of the report and the required photographs of our product, and I could easily send it now. Yet to do that would rob my team members of the incredible feeling of accomplishment that hitting that “send” button would bring. They deserve something much less cruel than that. So in conclusion, my team member and I will walk to the campus library tomorrow after our class, gloriously meet flash drive with USB port, upload the file and, write a brief message in Gmail, my e-mail app of choice. Then, we’ll approach the “send” button as if it reveals the truths and destinies of all our efforts, point the mouse, and click…
All good things must end. There is no pleasure without pain, no suffering without resolve, and no success that is devoid of conflict. Life is never black and white. The two colors mix interchangeably, such that good experiences are never truly appreciated until they’re but a memory. I realize the evanescence of everything… it is as beautiful as it is ephemeral. A new stage begins tomorrow. The sun shines for me, and for us.
Knowing this, I press on, press on, press on. I take it all in stride.
