I eat out a lot, and buy a lot of prepared foods.
It’s my biggest indulgence.
Usually, the people who work behind the counter,
serving me my extravagant nourishments
are lovely, or fine, or just putting in an honest days work.
Occasionally, the person behind the counter offends me,
transferring their wretched misery into my chocolate croissant,
infusing it with so much negative energy that after making a hasty retreat I realize that I can’t stomach the pastry, and throw it out.
Sometimes, (in my mind) I rage against the person behind the counter.
Lately, I recognize that my reaction to their negativity is a message from my inner people telling me that they’d like me to take a breathe,
and tune into what I need to do to take care of myself.
Because that’s my job, and not the job of the people behind the counter.