I broke my juicer then cried

I guess I didn't realize how much my juicer meant to me. Not as an object but as an object that could provide me with life saving juices. See what I did there? Life Saving. Putting all of my stalks into one basket. Attach! Attach! Attach! So predictable that I expect Something to Solve Me. I'm on the celery juice bandwagon like millions of others, likely ladies, who've been told that their illness is all in their heads. And while I concede that I have contributed to my own demise because of an overactive alert system due to many factors, including breathing from my larynx for 15 years (what's a diaphragm?), there are other things wrong with me that are decidedly NOT just a result of my imbalanced vigilance.

But this is not the blog for that. This is the blog to investigate my response, nay, my reaction to breaking my juicer. Because, yes, I did break it. It was my fault. My husband tells me it's an accident but I know better. It's because of my very own, well-developed, oft-despised capacity for rushing and pushing. Relentless speed at which Things Must Be Done. That cucumber got jammed. So I jammed it back. Smooshed it without mercy into the double bladed auger until I heard a crack and many clicks that were certainly NOT normal. So I cried. Not right away. I took a couple of breaths and thought, 'Well, whatever.' Then, with the full realization of what had occurred - that this was MY FAULT - I bent over and cried in earnest. The flavour of the cry was 'I'm tired of learning lessons, I don't want to learn anymore! Leave me alone! (fist pumping at the universe)' Then quintessential and ubiquitous - 'Why me?, Why does my juicer have to break now when I need it the most?' Holy shit that's so embarrassing to see in words. It's embarrassing for a few reasons:

1. That I am so pathetic not that I cried at the juicer breaking but that I cried because I wanted off of the spiritual merry-go-round. I thought, 'No more lessons please! I've had enough!' Leaving my first husband, Dad dying of a brain tumour, mom getting cancer (healed!), me imploding with anxiety/cfs or whatever the fuck it is, global fucking pandemic. Etcetera. I didn't want to learn any more lessons.

2. That I am so stuck in the 'I'ness of my being. So attached to Being Who I Am that I solidify all experience into something happened To Me rather than just something that happens to be happening.

3. The other reason it is so embarrassing is because there are people right now who are actually poor, whose family members have died from Covid, who have no means of income, who don't have enough to eat let alone the fucking bougie audacity to own a juicer.

So yeah. My reaction was very embarrassing. But it seems to me that that's a part of this human journey. Or at least mine. Embarrassing reactions to things. At least I only cried for a moment. And I didn't shame spiral into a vortex of self-hatred which really is an achievement. And I can now laugh at myself for being ridiculous. Because we're all a little ridiculous, aren't we? I mean, look at us, humans. We are hilarious and heartbreaking all at the same time.

Ram Dass said something once about the spiritual path being serious but that right underneath it is the Cosmic Giggle. In one fell cucumber jamming swoop, all of my neuroses exploded to the surface and, once again (forever and ever), they took me for an emotional roller coaster ride. But maybe this time, just maybe, I didn't pay for an extra fare.