I was going to upload a very different blog post today – I was going to treat you all to a good giggle about my infamous lack of sense of direction, but it didn’t seem quite right.
I’ve been thinking about eggs, as you might imagine, and what they mean to us. I’m pretty sure eggs at Easter are supposed to represent new life, being that new chicks are born out of them and all; but it seems to me that Easter Sunday – the day when we get to eat the chocolate eggs – is never the day when we start a new life, is it? For a couple of months before hand some of us take up new good habits or try to ditch old ones. I gave up farmed meat, because I think we’re generally too reliant on it. A friend of mine bravely gave up chocolate, presumably to see if she could stand the temptation. My little brother gave up coco pops and instead breakfasted on honey cheerios for forty days (I’m not entirely sure of the meaning behind that one). I’ve had friends who have given up smoking, or alcohol, or taken up doing small acts of kindness everyday. And then on Easter day itself, we all go back to our old lives and feast on chocolate.
I don’t think it was the lovingly cooked bacon and sausages I ate this morning that left a stale taste in my mouth. I think it was the fact that after building this healthier habit, which was more in line with my principles, and to be honest I enjoyed eating more; I had chosen this day of all days – the day of new life, to break that habit. And feast on way too many chocolate rabbits (side note I received all rabbits this year, no eggs).
Because I’ve learnt recently that Easter isn’t about chocolate related indulgence – it’s about giving a gift, enduring suffering, or going without, so that others might be able to lead a fuller life. Even if you think those others don’t really deserve it. Even if you have done nothing to deserve being denied that lovely chocolaty goodness.
So anyway, assuming I remember, which I probably won’t, next year instead of receiving Easter eggs from my family, I’m going to ask for that money they would have spent and donate it to a local night shelter. Because, not gonna lie, I’m half way through my first chocolate rabbit already and it’s more the fact that it’s there, rather than the fact that it’s tasty, that I’m still nibbling away at it as I’m writing this.
Maybe this is another one of my stupid ideas. Maybe none of you will want to join me. Maybe the money spent on my rabbity confectionary items is so insignificant that this endeavour is pointless. Or maybe someone out there agrees.
Happy Easter everyone! 🙂
The Elephant in the Room 