Looking For A Deeper Meaning

“Remind me of your arguments in support of a boiled egg?” I ask my daughter.

She raises her eyebrows in exasperation rather than surprise.

I had suggested to her that poached eggs negate the need for a boiled egg because they taste pretty similar and you have no shell to deal with once you’ve cooked them.

“You still have to deal with the shell in a poached egg, at the start. If anything it’s more annoying because there’s the risk of breaking the yolk.”

“Right”

“And, peeling off the shell afterwards is part of the fun.”

What I’d imagined to be an observation about simplicity and added enjoyment turns out to be the reverse, according to my daughter, who is generally right.

I’d been pondering the egg conversation after reading an interesting article on the excellent blog of McKinley Valentine.

“The problem isn’t that we have desires, but that our desires are too small,” is a short piece on the deeper meaning we can’t see when we’re focused on something superficial that won’t provide the satisfaction we’re after.

For example, thinking you’re a genius for spotting an egg cooking hack when it probably isn’t about the egg at all.

As my daughter and I are walking back to the house a young boy speeds past us on his pushbike.

He has headphones on and he’s singing at the top of his voice.

He’s tuned out and out of tune but it doesn’t matter because you can see from his face that, in the moment, he doesn’t have a care in the world.

My daughter and I look at each other and laugh.

“He makes me think of those “X-Factor” vox pops where the contestants talk tearfully about how desperate they are to get through to the next round because “all I’ve ever wanted to do is sing,” I say.

She knows where I’m going.

“Right, you can be a singer in the shower if that’s all you want to do,”

“Yep, or riding your bike.”

The deeper meaning for the boy on the bike might simply be about feeling a sense of joy but for the talent show contestant, it’s something else. Fame maybe, leading towards affirmation almost certainly.

At home my daughter is making a “fajita pasta” dish and, although I’m suspicious of the whole premise, she’s making it without meat.

“I’m putting fried sweet potatoes on the top instead of the chicken,” she says.

It’s a creative touch I think as I’m rooting through the freezer and coming across various meat substitute products that I bought in order to try being a meat eater without eating meat.

Most of them are vile.

Aligning a desire for a plant-based diet with a desire to eat meat without killing animals proved tricky until I was able to work out what it was I really wanted.

Emerging with a homemade bean chilli for dinner I watch my daughter peeling vegetables and think about all the absurd conversations she’s willing to engage in with me and how connected it makes me feel when we do.

“You’re right about the eggs,” I tell her. “Bashing the shell in with the back of a spoon is part of the fun.”