The Breakfast Cereal of Enlightenment

Last updated on: October 16, 2014 at 9:54 am by Cynthia Schrage

The Breakfast Cereal of Enlightenment 2014-10-16T09:54:23-04:00 Cynthia Schrage

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A spoon containing breakfast cereal flakes, part of a strawberry, and milk is held in midair against a blue background. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It wasn’t until the very last spoonful that I realized it.

I decided that I wanted to do some reading this morning, before I wrote anything, and so I got my book propped up while I had a bowl of cereal. As I finished the last bit in the bowl, that sugary sweet spoonful slipping down my throat, I remembered: this has milk in it.

These past few months, I’ve been having an increasingly difficult time with milk products, to the point where I am suspecting that I’m lactose intolerant. I got some of those pills at the store that are supposed to help digest the lactose via some enzymatic action that I don’t really understand. They are moderately helpful. What helps the most is just not eating (or drinking) any dairy products whatsoever.

But here I was, finishing a bowl of cereal. With milk. And no pill. Because this is what I used to eat in the morning for years, and I wasn’t thinking. Until the last bite.

Which is when it hit me: Anything can provide a moment of waking up, of growth.

So much of the time, I function on auto-pilot. I’ve let my good life habits slip away from me because when you’re not working, it seems like there is just so much time. Gobs of time. All the time in the world.

But that’s not really true. There’s exactly the same amount of time; I’m just using it differently. Or rather, not using it at all. I fritter away endless hours on Facebook. I play computer games. I sleep. And none of these things are bad. It’s not about judgment. It’s about what is better.

When I was working, I used to think (and I’m probably not alone in this), “Oh, if I only didn’t have to work. Just think of all the things I could get done!”

I’m not working now, but I’m certainly not getting much done. Mostly because I’m not paying attention.

So when I had that last spoonful of milk, it hit me. I can use my time in mindless distraction, which is just another way of running away from my mental health, or I can embrace these scary parts of my life, and learn something about compassion. Compassion towards others. Compassion towards myself.

And maybe about limiting dairy products.

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