Hidden Treasures

It was my favorite place. Didn't look like much from the outside, but inside was a cabinet that ran near the length of the wall. Just a great big bank of drawers. You couldn't tell what it held until you opened it. A cheap kazoo, a keychain sized journal, a pocket that velcroed to other clothing. Such were the pleasures waiting to be discovered. I'd spent hours in that store at a time. Never before had I worked so hard to find a way to spend my money but when I found my new treasure, it would really be mine.

A friend once told me that the worst way to shop was to be looking for something. True treasures are only found when you wander about with an open mind, observing what is there instead of only what you hope to see. She was talking about antique hunting at the time but the description is multi-purpose. It even extends to lovers.

The Zen mind believes that the root of all unhappiness is want. Want for what you don't have can never be sated. The affluenza afflicted world has yet to see the destructive path that has been carved through human brain cells, our feet squishing through the gray matter on the floor as we rush towards the sale in aisle nine. Our holidays each come with a price tag for which we must save our pennies then head back to work again so we can afford the next break. I sit in my room shaking my new snowglobe and waiting for enlightenment to jump out at me from within its depths... though I'm starting to suspect that will never happen, as long as I'm looking for it.