Supermarket Paranoia

As I went to the market tonight, my paranoia blossomed.

It’s chilly in the evenings now, and it was raining, so I thought of my homeless buddies who, if they were caught without shelter, would be uncomfortable and at risk. It will only get worse as the season goes on.

Driving into the parking lot, I felt that my car was much too big. How could such a gigantic machine – so heavy, so well engineered, and consuming so much fuel – be needed to move one person around?

Then, when I approached the soup bar, I found myself in a confrontation with a stranger (a young woman) about who was going to ladle soup first, from the cauldron into a cardboard cup. I put my hand on the ladle, so I went first. I reassured her: “It looks like there’s plenty for both of us,” and there was.

But I found myself wondering: “Would I share soup with a stranger, if there was not enough for both of us? How would I decide who to share with and who not to? How would I act if I were not surrounded by incredible plenty, the luxury of empire, constantly replenished by the work of others whom I never see?”

And I don’t know. ⭐️