Epiphany at the Fair
Some of us have moments of sharp clarity that, once known, change our lives forever. Where our view of the world is shown, through experience or through realization, to have been hitherto incomplete and inchoate. Where we are brought screaming into a new reality.
Our culture lionizes these moments of enlightenment — but in truth there is darkness to them. There are many masters, eyes now opened to the world, who wished with fervor they could but close their eyes once more — to put the thought formed, the knowledge gained, the epiphany realized, back in the box whence it came and throw away the key forever.
But alas, we cannot.
Once the revelation is upon us, we are changed. Our future actions are changed. Our friendships are changed.
This was the thought that ran through his mind, as he repeatedly banged his snout in remorse against the food hall table.
Oh, how he wished now he’d stuck with Piglet as they’d meandered the county fair together.
Oh, how he wished he’d stayed to play putt-putt with his best friend, rather than wander off to the food hall alone following his belly.
And, simultaneously crying and wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth, how Winnie the Pooh wished he’d hadn’t ordered, tasted for the first time, and then been transported into ecstasy by the honey-cured bacon they sold at the corner stand.