Good morning, Goose Army!  This post is weird.  I would apologize in advance but we all know that that’s not who I am as a person.  Sorry, not sorry.  That’s me.  Anyhoozles, let’s kick off some crazy.

Recently, it was meal prep day at Case de Fatass.  Once a week, I prep meals for JoJo and me so that we don’t have to worry about making meals throughout the week.  It also keeps us from (hopefully) getting any fatter by stuffing our faces with whatever is just available.  Well, this week, I was filling up meal prep containers with a scoop of tuna salad, whole wheat crackers, grape tomatoes…and a boiled egg.  JoJo likes it when I pre-peel the eggs so that when she takes the meals to work she doesn’t have to be bothered with peeling an egg while trying to work.  Totally understandable–and I’m happy to do it.

Correction: I’m happy to do almost anything for muh boo.  I’m not happy about peeling eggs, though.

Peeling eggs is a pain in my big, fat, white ass.  Don’t act like you don’t have a hatred for peeling eggs.  It’s the Devil’s work.  Hard-boiled eggs are delicious–and are the first step to the most delicious of fart-inducing concoctions that is Devilled Eggs.  However, if you want to make two dozen of them, you better boil six extra.  Amirite?!?  You’re going to fuck up some eggs–and there’s no way around that.  Sure, there are tutorials on YouTube telling you how to easily peel eggs:

Spoiler alert: these tricks only work if you’re versed in the ancient dark arts.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s a pretty esoteric field, which means most of us are completely fucked.

So, I just boiled 18 eggs.  For fourteen meals, that would leave 4 that I could fuck up and not worry about.  I did like I always did.  I accepted my fate, put the 18 eggs in a large pot, covered ’em with hot water, and set that shit to boil.  Ten minutes later, I was running them under cold water and sitting down to peel them.  Immediately, my anxiety started kicking in.  One, it makes me anxious because I know I’m going to make a mess and fuck things up.  Two, anything that requires dexterity of my fingers, concentration, and patience makes me get immediate flop sweat.

First egg–not so much of a problem.  I cracked both ends and the sides, then pinched the shell off of the fat end of the egg, making sure I got part of the embryonic sac.  That usually makes the egg peel easier.  Then I set about peeling bit by bit of the shell away.

Suddenly, I started to think about how amazing an egg is really.  I mean, this once living organism, if fertilized, left alone, and kept warm by its mother, would turn into a baby creature, perpetuating this cycle.  And the whole process is protected solely by this fragile shell that could be smashed by a sudden, gentle clenching of a fist, yet is strong enough to contain life until it’s ready to spring forth.  If attention is given and fingers are gentle, it can be peeled and eaten and provide nourishment to me.  Or I could smash it with a hammer to do the same job, but render it useless.  It’s an amazing thing, an egg.

To give another creature nourishment, helping that creature to perpetuate its own cycle, attentive, loving care must be shown.  The egg must be honored for the astounding organism that it is.  It is demanding acknowledgment, for respect, for someone to bow to the divine it–whatever you think divinity is.  Is divinity acknowledgment of the vastness and incredible wonder of our universe?  Is it God?  Does it matter?  No.  The egg was created as part of a life cycle–something every organism knows a thing or two about–and that must be honored.

I started to think about all of this as I peeled eggs and became dumbfounded by how amazing these little balls of deliciousness are in the grand scheme of things.  There’s a whole universe held inside of that delicate, easily destroyed shell–a whole organism’s hope is contained therein, everything happening outside of it beyond that organism’s control.

Moments later, I realized that I had peeled all 18 eggs–and every one of them was peeled perfectly.  That egg and I had recognized the divine in each other.  I had given acknowledgment to the wonders of…everything.

Maybe that’s all any of us need?  Understanding.  Patience.  Tenderness.  Respect.  Acknowledgment.  What greater gift can one organism give another than simply acknowledging how important it is to the cycle of life?  How divine it is?

No.  Today isn’t your day egg.  You’re going to get eaten.  And for that, I’m sorry.  But, one way or another, your contribution to “the cycle” is astounding.  It is divine.

I gotta go.

Until next time…


5 thoughts on “Zen and the Art of Egg Peeling

  1. I take egg peeling as a personal challenge. And since all our neighbors have chickens, I roll in free eggs on a weekly basis. And btw, free range fresh eggs? They’re twice as hard to peel!

  2. Maybe because you were mediating about the wonderfulness of the egg, it made you more relaxed, therefore the egg peeling worked better. I read an article the other day about a woman, can’t remember where, who died recently aged 117.She was asked for the reasons for her longevity and she said it was the egg. She had eaten 3 a day nearly her whole life. So it really is a treasure. 18 a week would make me egg bound though. Very informative and funny post once again Allen 😊

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