Everyday Mysteries

There it was, tiny, round and beige, with the characteristic dimpled ridge running from top to bottom—a garbanzo bean on the floor in one of the stalls of the ladies’ room at the downtown office. Impossible to miss on the bare tile during my break.

I have so many questions…

Nothing else at work that week roused my curiosity more than that errant legume, miles from its natural habitat. Even now, on the bus ride home or waiting in line at the library, I still sometimes muse about its journey and how it landed in that spot, given all the other possibilities. And I will probably never know, at least not in this life.

I read somewhere that the human brain is on the receiving end of approximately 30,000 bits of data every day, most of it processed automatically in the course of our routines (the temperature of the water in our morning shower, the aromas of coffee and bacon stirring our tastebuds and how well our shoes fit as we slide into them on the way out the door). But it’s those singular off-script moments or seconds that slow us down long enough to spin our imaginations in all directions. It’s like a continuous creative writing assignment from grade school English class where we’re asked to fill in the back story with our own take on the circumstances until the next round of data comes into our mind’s line of sight. Then we abandon one stream of thought and step into the flow of the next one, looking for clues, drawing conclusions or leaving it unfinished as we try to figure out what’s for dinner.

Call it an active inner life or monkey mind; I’m plagued and privileged in equal measure by it, happy to be led by my curiosity into all realms of my existence. It feels unending up until that sweet moment when I surrender my waking mind into deep sleep where my dreams take over (this is neither the time nor place to get into that). And I wonder why I don’t feel rested in the morning.

Here’s a short list some recent wonderings:

How old are the state office elevator engineer’s work boots? (they are worn in the heels and paint-spattered). Is he planning to get new ones anytime soon?

Who’s hanging by an emotional thread in the room I’m in right now? It’s hard to tell just by the facial expressions around the table. We’re all so good at masking the turbulence that roils deep within or just below the surface.

Where did our resident hummingbirds build their next this year? And why haven’t I ever seen a baby cardinal in my entire lifetime?

Do moles like living underground most of their lives? Through the fur that covers their eyes, what do they see?

When will the horror in Gaza and Ukraine end?

What does it profit someone to gain the whole world but lose their soul along the way?

How did we get here, to this moment in history?

And on it goes, with minimal prompting from everything that exists on the other side of my skin and bones. Science can answer some of those questions, as can simple inquiry on my part of the parties involved (“those work boots look loved. I’ll bet they’ve seen a lot. Does the state help you pay for new ones?”). But I plunge forward into my day, past the hidden secrets of those around me and only in a quiet pause after sunset, hope I’ve shown them grace and kindness. I know…heavy stuff for a Sunday. But there’s this window of headspace while the week’s granola cools on the kitchen counter and of course I’m filling it with the meanderings of a philosophy major some forty years after graduation. I think my dad would be pleased to see how his investment in my education is still unfolding.

In our “figure it out” world that insists on answers instead of more questions, this kind of contemplation seems wasteful and silly. It also draws out our best creative impulses and tendencies where, as we sift through all this rumination, we come across a gem of an idea that just might make things better for someone for a while. My money’s on that outcome and I’m willing to fill the space on bus rides home from downtown or waiting in line for pickles at the farmers market with an entire train of thoughts pointed toward improving the human enterprise even a smidge.

All this from one garbanzo bean in a bathroom stall.

Makes you think, doesn’t it?