The stinkier the better

I went to this cheese thing the other night. Usually I don't like this type of event – just a bunch of people drinking and schmoozing and stroking each other's egos under the guise of "business development" – but this one was practically right next to my office, and someone I work with specially invited and even encouraged me to go, and I thought I might as well get a little something to eat before riding home ... plus, free cheese.

So I walked in and started scanning the room for the person who'd sort of browbeaten me into going. I spotted him across the crowded courtyard and started walking over ... and then suddenly, after he'd already seen me and it was too late to shrink back into the shrubbery and disappear, I saw what I hadn't seen before: he was standing right next to someone I really did not want to see. Or be seen by. Or talk to. Or have anything to do with.

Not that I hate or even necessarily dislike this person. It's just ... it's someone I know to be something of a train wreck and a drama queen of monumental proportions, and it makes me anxious to the point of nausea to be around this person, and I just would rather not put myself through that, especially at an event that is supposed to be fun.

But there was no way out so I walked the rest of the way over, all the while rummaging around in my emotional toolbox for that rigid smile I wrote about the other day – the grin – which really does come in handy sometimes, even though I hate the insincerity of it. My mind was going over the phrases people use in social situations like this: "Oh, HI! So great to SEE you!" Hug hug, kiss kiss. Blech.

Then I had a mini-epiphany, brought on, I think, by my analysis the other day of that pasted-on mask of a grin. Why do I feel like I have to say something I don't mean, just to be social? Because the truth was, it was NOT great to see that person. It kind of sucked to see them. And while I didn't see any need to show hostility or even just ignore the person, I also didn't want to soil my own integrity or insult the other person (even a person I don't really care to be around) by saying something that is not true.

What dawned on me in that moment was that there are a million things I could say that would be true, and cordial, and even friendly and open, without creating a false impression of how I feel about the person – which really has nothing to do with the situation, I suddenly realized.

So I said hi to my friend, and then to the other person I said, "Wow, there are so many people here! Looks like it's going to be a great event."

It seems like a small thing, but it felt really good to me to be able to say something appropriately social without telling a lie or trying to act like I felt some way I don't really feel. It all falls under the category of "mindful speech," which, if you'll recall, is one of my spring practice principles this year.

That one seems to be going okay. It's really helpful to just focus on one or two things at a time, with the intention of forming a new habit. In forty days (plus weekends, which in the traditional observance of Lent do not count for some reason) a new behavior can really become ingrained in (into?) your character.

The cheese was amazing, too, I feel compelled to mention. Stink - KEE. Because this was an industry event there were cheesemakers there from all over the world, and I got to taste some weird delicious cheeses that are no longer available here due to new-ish restrictions on imports. My favorite though was not any of the raw-milk stuff but some local runny, stinky, dark yellow brie-type cheese that was so good it made my cheeks ache, made me understand why dogs roll in things that smell irresistibly delicious to them – I wanted to grab big sticky handfuls of it and smear it through my hair and down the front of my sweater. Instead I just ate way too much of it, chased by a two-ounce pour of some really nice wine and about a half-cup of hot coffee, and rode home through the twilight humming over and over and over again, a little obsessively if you must know, that line from a certain Queen song: "guaranteed to blow your mind ... guaranteed to blow your mind ... guaranteed to blow your mind ...."

Living without cheese would definitely be harder for me than living without sugar. That part is going okay too. It's harder this time than it ever has been before though, possibly because this time I'm allowing myself to consider the possibility that I might not, as I have always done before, go back to eating sugar again after the spring practice period is over. Not that I think I would ever just completely cut myself off from all sugar forever. A little chocolate every now and then, a cookie with my tea, pumpkin pie at Christmas and of course ice cream – I'm already slightly drooling over the first bite of ice cream I'm going to have after all this is over (Haagen Dazs makes this banana split ice cream that I just can't stop thinking about lately, even though bananas are not my favorite ... probably it's the integrated chocolate sauce and cherry that are making me crazy).

For now though and until Easter, I'm doing good. When I have an intense craving, I'm mostly able to remember to use it instructively, as an opportunity to examine the nature of craving, instead of taking it seriously as a real "need" that "must" be "satisfied" by giving myself the thing I'm craving.

What must it be like for people who really are starving? If I feel this desperate about a little bowl of ice cream, how would I be affected if I were one of the countless people in the world who actually have No Food At All? If nothing else, it gives me a little more compassion for people who act in ways I find incomprehensible ... who knows what might be driving them to do the things they do? Desire is powerful. More than that, the belief that desire must be acted upon.

I can't say I'm enjoying going without sugar, exactly, but it does feel good to be reminded that even in the face of intense emotion and desire, I still have the power to make choices about my own behavior.

At least I hope I do. Mr. A and I have been having a conversation lately about free will vs. hormonal or genetic imperatives ... Do we really have the power to choose how we behave? I know there's such a thing as impulse control disorders, or at least I've heard of them. OCD, for example. But like in the example of someone who's an addict – yeah, maybe they do feel much more strongly compelled than the average person to use their drug, but does that really mean they "can't" NOT use it?

Thus we see how a delightfully light-hearted and/or banal wine and cheese reception can devolve into a heavy and utterly humorless discussion of Free Will: Does it or does it not exist? Which is not all that different from how wine and cheese receptions often turn out anyway, if you stick around til they're putting up the folding chairs and tables, now that I think of it.