Chocolate, Cappuccino, Butter

These are the paint colors I picked out for my new abode. I wonder if this says anything about me. I think it does. But really, who doesn't like chocolate, cappuccino and butter? I've heard there are people who don't like chocolate. One of my best friends from college doesn't like chocolate. I try not to hold it against him, but I do consider it a minor character flaw. On the other hand, we all have flaws, and I guess not liking chocolate ranks pretty low on the scale compared to something like, I don't know, genocide. I wonder if Hitler liked chocolate? But I digress.

I thought, yes, chocolate, cappuccino, and butter do fit me. But then something happened. These were the names of the paints I chose from Restoration Hardware. I know, picking paint from Restoration Hardware is like buying that apothecary table from Pottery Barn (I know you remember that Friends episode). But really, the whole paint choosing thing is mind boggling enough when you have 40 choices, let alone the thousands of choices I'd have if I went to, say, Home Depot. So I decided to limit my choices, and give myself a break.

Because, this is what our mind does. We start off thinking, oh, you know, any color is fine. Wait, I have a choice? Okay, then... and then our mind goes, pardon the expression, apeshit. We find some colors we like, and we think we're done. But no, then our mind asks, "But are they perfect?" Ahh...the temptation of perfect. If I find the perfect colors, I will be happy in my home forever and ever. (ed. note*: Well when you put it like that, of course it sounds absurd.) So, then, we start agonizing. This golden yellow? Or that golden yellow? If I get the wrong golden yellow, I will be quite put out. Yes, that's agony.

This is why I limited my choices to begin with. But still, my mind went a little apeshit. (Buddha says our minds are like wild rampaging elephants, so maybe a little apeshit wasn't so bad). But to tame it, I had to use this expression: "Good enough." Ah, the calm contentment of "good enough." It's the close cousin of my other favorite mind-taming expression of late, "For now." Is this job good enough for now? Yes, it is. Is this living arrangement good enough for now? Yes, it is. Are these colors good enough for now? Yes, they are.

But back to chocolate, cappuccino, and butter. As I said, these were the "perfect" Restoration Hardware colors I picked. But then this happened: I found out that the painters painting my new abode could not, would not, eat green eggs and ham. I mean, could not get RH paint. So I had to translate the RH colors into Benjamin Moore (there's a genius website that does this). So now my colors are these: Brown Sugar, Hemp Seed, Goldtone. Which means, I've gone from yummy goodness to 70's Record Labels.

What does this mean? Alright, so maybe I am a little hippy girl at heart, maybe these colors will bring out that aspect of me. But probably not. After all, when someone comes into my house, they'll probably just see "brown, tan, yellow". After all, they're just words. "Mere name," as my teacher says. Even "Jen" is just mere name, a convenient way to refer to whoever you think I am at any particular moment. There is no actual Jen-ness about me, no one thing, nothing permanent, just a particular collection of Jen parts that happen to be appearing right now....or, for now....

So even if the paint is brown sugar, I can call it chocolate, or better yet, call it nothing at all. That's actually, believe it or not, a step on the path to enlightenment, when we stop labeling things, stop believing that they're anything but a collection of stuff that's appearing for one moment, and one moment only, and will be different in the next moment, or might not appear in the next moment at all.

In this moment, I am writing this blog, full of vanilla latte goodness and a couple of almond Hershey kisses. And then this moment, just like that....is gone.


*"ed" in this case is my own mind.