When good isn't good enough

The world’s pretty confusing, eh? Yeah, yeah, I know. I could’ve stopped that sentence after “pretty” and the statement would remain true. The world is, by every objective metric, fairly attractive. Have you seen Crater Lake lately? What a beaut. And I bet you thought Dick Feynman was deep. Yet I’m confused. And if I’m confused, you’re definitely confused. That’s just how it works. 

Navigating the issues of the day requires the skill and fortitude of a Louisiana swamp boat captain - high on gumbo and common sense, traversing the bayou with skill and dexterity. There are many ways in which you are unknowingly doing the exact wrong thing. You don’t know it. You will though. I’m certain of it. 

Take lunch. Lunch is, by every objective metric, the best meal. Where it falls in the day and along the clock, making the descendants of Seth Thomas happy and proud, creates a wonderful situation. You have to disrupt work to enjoy it. You know how sometimes it’s dark during breakfast or dinner? Not so for lunch. For lunch, unless you’re wandering the wild lands of Alaska or northern fjords of Scandinavia looking for a bite, is a meal perpetually ensconced in daylight. 

Lunch comes down to a simple choice – one between a salad and a sandwich. Yes, there are those who double down, ordering both, plus a soup to boot. Most people, when ordering food, choose the items that are either healthy or tasty. They choose based on their own preferences. This is all wrong. What are we, hedonists? Picking and choosing what ever gets the circulatory system juicing? 

When inquiring about someone else’s meal quality, you can’t hope but understand the world by only asking “how is it?” Whether a sandwich is good only tells part of the story. Here’s what you should ask yourself when deciding between two items. 

“It’s good. That’s good. But is it important?” For a sandwich – or any food, really – to justify ongoing conversation and achieve culinary transcendence, it must also be important. In fact, it doesn’t necessarily have to be good. If the bread crumbles like mulch, the cheese tastes like Styrofoam and the meat has the consistency of an ancient leather shoe, it’s still possible to merit ordering. While it may not taste good, the sandwich could very well be morally good. Even if the line is snaking around the block, doing the right thing demands time and care. Because deliciousness often distracts  from the true purpose of eating. You're not there to feel good.

Despite whatever’s going on around you, you must place the sandwich in its proper historical context. Order one that satisfies your soul, and not your appetite. Because that’s what you’ve been starving all your life.