One day, two friends sat at the breakfast table in their pajamas…
“You ever have cravings,” a friend asked while shoveling a spoonful of cheerios into his mouth.
“Like, anything,” I questioned, looking up from my newspaper.
“Anything,” he repeated confidently.
“You do realize we as humans have millions of cravings, right?”
My friend, reproachful to the question, answered, “I know, but what do you crave?”
“Well, I guess if I had to explain it’d have to come in the form of a poem.”
“You have them when your down and you have them when you’re up, no matter how much is spilt, there’s always room in your cup.
You have them when you’re old, and you have them when you’re new, your mother had hundreds of new ones nine months before having you.
Cravings are a sign of something we feel when we’re lacking, it’s like your organs are pounding on your brains door saying, ‘Open up asshole, we’re packing.’
Thrown in cuffs, and pinned to the floor, your brain is forced to sprinkle some of that fairy dust that makes you crave more.”
My friend sat silent for a moment. “Okay, that was pretty good, but it doesn’t answer th–”
“You’ll want money, sex, drugs, and drink. That dust your brain sprinkled is more potent than you think.
Fast food, beer, couch, and the TV; with all this stuff comes the tingle from single hits of pure pleasure known as dopamine.
From the head to the toes, round and round those babies go. Where they stop, you ask? Who cares, no one really knows.
But wait, there’s more; you want more, more stuff to stretch the pleasure chemicals just a bit more, until BAM! Your ass is out, cold on the floor.”
“Okay, you’re starting to sound like Dr. Seuss trying to explain why life isn’t really sunshine and rainbows.”
“But alas, tis’ true, from me to you, so without further ado, let me introduce the truth.
Cravings are in play for a purpose, they aren’t given as excuse to treat your body like a circus.
Cravings keep your belly full, your peers happy, and your mind clean; it helps you make your own reality out of tangible dreams.
The cravings never end and are quite steady, wonderful things they are, but without discipline, they can be deadly.
Learn to feed the part of your mind you want to grow, and after a while it’ll start to show.
Til’ that day comes when your brain can crave no more, and perhaps its last craving was for life after dying on the floor,
Let your cravings do their job, but be weary of craving the habits that make you and those you love sob.
Crave life and crave love, crave forgiveness over spilt blood, and know what you should do when that brain’s magic dust begins to flood.
Crave the joy of living and the sorrows that follow, because you may not be able to crave tomorrow.
Crave the journey and crave the moments, crave the destination and its entire splendor. See your cravings as fuel to set ablaze to, yet always remember:
You’re a high-end biological machine with an input terminal; your brain is the sender. You have the desire, but the choice is on you how they are carried out, always remember.”
A slurping sound ensued as my friend finished off his milk, “Not bad for an impromptu breakfast poem, but you might want to lay off sounding like a life guru next time.”
“Okay,” I said, “what’s something you crave?”
“Well, after all that milk, first I’m gonna crave a trip to the bathroom, then I’m gonna be craving a trip back to bed.”
“You just woke up,” I exclaimed.
“I know, but I craved a day off; so, I played hooky.”