Brain strain #3 - Work lunches

Adhisthana, July 2019

The third in the 'Brain strain' series, and quite a different type of story compared with the first two. Instead of straining my brain to take in new and challenging ideas and convert them to something useful and valuable, lunch time at work often strains my brain in a way that makes me want to run screaming from the room. Every fibre of my body is telling me to get out of there, and only with the force of will do I remain in my seat, trying as hard as I can not to let my thoughts reveal themselves through my face.

Here's one recent example.

We all come together for lunch most days. Usually the chat is about what everyone did at the weekend, what the latest nonsensical rules are for Covid (recently: Teachers!! Schools!!), how rubbish various colleagues are, and what people have been watching on TV. And often there is talk of what I've brought for lunch (because I have quite interesting lunches), and how weird it is that I eat them at room temperature and don't heat them up. Which, I suppose, is a reasonable criticism, but I like food at room temperature, I think it tastes better most of the time. Except soup. I'll heat up soup. Except gazpacho, and come to think of it, vichyssiose, and there's a cold tomato soup that I love, and watercress...

Then MS told us, and I wish I could remember how the subject arose in conversation, that she carries two small stones with her, one of red jasper and the other black obsidian, in her bra.

"In your bra?" D asked.

"Yes, in my bra. Shall I get them out?"

Well, the consensus to this was obviously a resounding 'yes', so she fished out two smallish stones, about the size of quail's eggs, one dusky pink and the other shiny black.

"How do those help you?" asked R.

I must have lost consciousness briefly at that point because I have no idea what the answer was. Perhaps my brain yelling "Run away, now!" drowned it out.

"It's like crystals," said someone else.

"Oh crystals, yes," said R. "I've heard of that. They're really good. I believe in them,"

"Well, it's like that. And feathers," said MS.

"Feathers?"

"Yes," continued MS, "seeing a white feather means that someone who has died is looking out for you. Whenever I'm having a bad time and I think of my brother, I always see a white feather. I've got one on the picture in my room."

"And seeing a robin. That's supposed to be someone who's died," chimed in R.

"There's a robin at my house keeps crapping on my car," said D.

"Well, who's died that has something against you?" asked MS.

"Nobody I can think of has died recently," said D.

"It doesn't have to be recent, could be any time. Who's dead and would have wanted to piss you off?"

"Ooh, can't think of anyone!"

At this point I felt I'd sat there long enough to be able to make a decent exit, so I left them to their bra stones, crystals, feathers and robins. Makes a change from hearing about the latest TV reality show, I suppose.