![]() "How do you want your eggs?" "Sunnyside up", I say with a grin. I was cooking up some eggs this week, and it got me thinking, "Why do I like my eggs Sunnyside up?". Actually, I don't know that I have a preference as I will eat eggs any way they are served. For the sake of my mind-bending reality, Eggs Over Easy or Scrambled Eggs were close seconds to the title of this blog. Many times, I write about the programming and mind control that we are under, Scrambled eggs as it were. Sometimes, due to the force of habit or what we are accustomed to we revert to what we know best, good or bad, it is what makes us comfortable, Sunnyside up perhaps. In the case of eggs, I detested runny yolk when I was a kid, but for some reason, I routinely found eggs on my plate this way. Why? Because... well... I had no choice, and nothing else was available to eat unless we finished what was on our plate. Growing up in the 70s was not all sunny you know, we learned to; "do as I say, not as I do", "do not take more than you can chew", "there is no dessert until you finish what is on our plate", "children were to be seen and not heard", and "children were starving in a third world country somewhere". Many kids were forced to eat things that they didn't like, and as for myself, I still turn my nose up on Liver or Brussels sprouts. When I moved out on my own, I pledged that I would avoid eating foods I didn't like, with one exception, when I am a guest at someone's home and it is on the table. There is another thing many kids were programmed to understand, RESPECT. My parents always said, "If a host has gone to the trouble to invite you for a meal, you always eat what is placed on the table, it is called respect". Back to the eggs... To me, cooking up eggs is like an allegory and metaphor for living life. What eggs-actly do I mean, you may be asking yourself? I was never taught the ways of eggs (life). I learned through observation and trust that my parents knew best how eggs were to be prepared. The knowledge about preparation, such as Scrambled, Fried, Poached, or Boiled, was reduced to mom's lectures about eating what is put in front of us. We learned our lessons from books such as Green Eggs and Ham and I guy named Sam. Doctor Suess was obviously colluding with the parents to get children to accept what is put before us, even if we recognized that green means moldy and smells bad. Don't judge something by the way it looks was the lesson of the day, you might just like green eggs if you give them a try. So I did what any normal person does, I studied the ways of egg preparation. I learned that being scrambled is the same as being confused, and for much of my life, I have been trying to figure things out. The not-so-obvious meaning of scramble is from the late 16th-century English combination of scamble ‘stumble’ and cramble ‘crawl’. Some of us stumble and crawl to the finish line of purpose, unsure of the reason for the experience. The small voice in my head constantly reminds me to take my thoughts captive, to reassemble the scrambled mess of experiences. Like the scrambled eggs, you will never know how it tastes unless you put it in your mouth. As a kid growing up in the 80's the war on drugs was a real battle. "Hey kids, don't get fried on drugs", as our Saturday morning cartoons got interrupted by a guy holding up an egg, "This is your brain", then proceeded to crack it into a hot frying pan, "This is your brain on drugs!". I learned early on that I did not want to go through life fried. The word Poach got me thinking. The origin is derived from the word "poke" and also the "pouch". During the time of William the Conqueror, rigid laws were put in place called Pleas of the Forest. These forest laws caused an uprising from the commoners, hence they started hiding their game in pouches to subvert any wrongdoing. Putting eggs in a pouch is the best way to poach, a clever connection. But, the word itself is synonymous with evil-doers, as poaching was a crime punishable by death. Poaching to feed the family, or making laws to restrict people from being self-sustainable, this is the question? After my research on poaching it got my blood boiling. Lord William was clearly an egg-o maniac, a lord of the hoards. It is hard to contain my emotionally hardened heart, as the trick of suppressing the commoner has been there since the beginning of time. There is a simmering taking place, and at a certain point, boiling over is inevitable. Many people are beyond soft yolks but are unsure where to devote their time and energy. Many people are scrambled beyond comprehension, fried mentally, seen as poachers, and their emotions have boiled over. Coercion and manipulation have been fed to us our whole lives. As adults, due to our life lessons, we often need to taste with the tip of our tongue what we are being served. We don't want to swallow the whole meal if it tastes bad, life has made us skeptical. Furthermore, much of what we are being fed today will make us sick, both physically and mentally. Can we trust eating green eggs? "Trust in the Lord"... One thing that I have studied is the above statement. What Lord are we trusting? Are we trusting the Lord who makes all the rules because they think we are fools? Or are we trusting the Lord who has taken its seat on the throne of God? The throne of God is your heart and your body is the temple. "Choose this day whom you will serve" should be simple, but the difficulty is in the mind. We want our life (eggs) prepared in a manner that resonates with our soul. We want our life to be Sunnyside Up and not Hard Boiled. We want to be equally yolked, the same as everyone else, but the beauty is we're not. We are all different, we all like eggs prepared in a different way. Some of us love runny yolks that spread all over the plate, the extravert of eggs. Some of us are hard and don't venture too far, it's okay. Life is amazing if you give it a try. Even Sam agrees, when we taste a bit of heaven it will set us free. By the vessel, William John PS I did try some Brussels sprouts at a fancy restaurant a few weeks ago, and they were heavenly.
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