Whole again...

Whenever I'm feeling lonely, or bored, or sad, or triumphant, or dejected, or restless (or...) I go to Whole Foods.

Ahhh, Whole Foods.

Whole Foods is a big store that lives a block away from my new house. It has neatly packaged, generally environmentally copacetic food items neatly arranged in little rows on little shelves on long aisles marked with fun little signs that tell you what might be there, but always leaves room for possibility.

Ahh, possibility. For some, possibility is the first step on the Appalachian trail, a one-way ticket to China, a baseline job in a great business. For me, possibility is the smell of a hardware store. Or the endless rows of self-care ditties in a drug store. Or Whole Foods.

Somehow, the neatness, the endlessness of ingredients for any number of items--the lighting--the samples--makes me feel safe, but also invigorates me to no end. I don't even need to actually purchase anything. Just knowing that it's all still there, tirelessly maintained by its staff of tatooed and dread-locked twenty-somethings, is comforting to me.

In a way it puts things in perspective--that somewhere (or just around the corner) there is endless potential, all packaged and ready for your Whole Paycheck.

Thank you, Whole Foods. [And, no, I don't even care that your jerk owner is a Libertarian and anti-healthcare reform. Cause I don't even need you, it's just nice to stroll the aisles once in a while, is all.]

Whole Foods, this one's for you: