Caffeinated Buddha: Lunch Date

Note: I’ve decided to kick AI Caffeinated Buddha to the curb.

What started as a bit of creative fun gradually became an unexpected creative crutch. So, I’m setting him free.

Now begins the hunt for a new face for the series. Maybe I’ll find a wonderful illustrator. Maybe I’ll cobble together my own Buddhas. Maybe the right one will show up when I stop looking.

Maybe one of you has an idea.

In the meantime, thanks for bearing with me while the face of Caffeinated Buddha changes, just like everything else..

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There’s this little Thai place. I get the Pad See Ew with tofu. Yesterday I met up with an… acquaintance. Still working out if we’re friends, even though we’ve known each other a long time.

He was already there when I showed up. That seemed to be a habit.

“Hey bud,” I said.
I don’t call him Worry Buddha.
Not until after we order at least.

I don’t have to wait long before he starts

“I used to think it was just about one thing. Money, or, earthquakes. But, the pace is so furious right now.” He rubbed his forehead.

The server brought me an iced Thai coffee.
“Can I use your spoon?”

“Sure,” WB passed me his. “The anxiety is pervasive. Like coming here. I thought I’d be late. Traffic in the valley. If we’re friends yet? What should I wear?”

Uh. Cargo shorts. Flip flops. T-shirt.
Sorta like me.

“But, you’re Worry Buddha. You’re fulfilling the name.”

“Believe me, I know. So fucked up right now. I’ve even started using a meditation app. Can’t remember the name - ”

“Headspace?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Waking Up?”

“Noop.”

“Calm?”

“Bingo. You don’t use them, right?”

“Never. But I’m not you. To each his own. I just sit, man.”

“Thing is,” he leaned in, “this worry deal is a burden.”

“Who’s your coach, or whatever you call them?

“Narrator. She’s okay. I find a lot of them insinuating. They’re like, We all know how easy it is to drop ‘worrying’, yet here you are listening to me. Yeah, and paying $79 bucks a year!”

“Is it helping?” I don’t know why I asked that.
Probably shouldn’t have.
Where was my food?
Did I forget my mala again?

He nodded. “Is it? I don’t know. Maybe? I think so. Who cares.
I’m committed. This worrying about everything makes life suck.”

“But if a habit isn’t really a thing…what are you trying to get rid of?”

His face squished up.
Our food came. I dug in. He just sat there.
He’d ordered the Yellow Curry.
I would have slayed that.

“God, I hate it when you do that. That’s why we’re not fully friends.
And we meet up a lot,” he said.

I slurped some noodles. Wiped my chin, “What?”

“Yeah, you go all absolute when I need relative. Like, just say, ‘Ah, you poor Worry Buddha, you, gosh, that sounds tough.’ ”

A tear seemed to dangle on his eyelash.

“Do you think I’m proud of using an app? I should be over this shit by now.
I don’t want to be the Worry Buddha anymore.”

I put down my spoon.

“It sounds exhausting. Sorry, man.”

“Yeah.” He poured some curry over his purple rice. Took a bite of a potato.
“I guess this is the gig.”

“Apps are cool,” I hoped that sounded supportive.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, nothing to transcend here, folks, just a shitstick Buddha.”

He smiled.

I sipped my Thai coffee.
There was this thing I couldn’t control recently. And it made the future seem bleak, “Sometimes, I guess, things take a little more effort.”

He shrugged, “Yeah. I do want it to stop. Even if it is an illusion.
Omg. Such a beginner.”

We laughed.
We slurped.

“You tasting all this?”

“It’s good.”

“I’m sweating over here.”

We went quiet.

Curry.
Noodles.
Thai coffee.

We didn’t solve anything.

But for a little while…

Worry Buddha wasn’t worrying.