How weird are our thoughts and behaviours

Yesterday, I was making my beetroot salad, my happy juice. Grating the hard raw beetroot with skin is not a smiling job. Amongst the seriousness of trying to avoid grating my fingers, I suddenly, out of nowhere, burst into a hurl of laughter. As strange as it sounds, that is not the weird part.

I am one of the laziest people around. I have things I enjoy, which, are mostly everything that I don't need to do. And the things I do need to do, I often find some sort of cheat. One of these cheats is washing the dishes. Although, I'm not bothered with cleaning the dishes. It’s just that I consistently have better things I could be doing. When I grate my beetroot salad, again a lazy thing, I do all the beetroot and apples together, about eight beets and three apples, and I fill a big bowl. As you can imagine, one huge big bowl would mean lots of containers to keep it in. Think again. I managed somehow to get it all in my one big sealed container, which, is about less than half the size of the big bowl.

Now, the weird part.

As I said prior, I love my beetroot salad. I often eat it for lunch at work. The people in the office laugh at me and say I look like a vampire. Let me express that there is nothing about me that is fast. I am slow with everything, including eating. When I eat my lunch, it normally takes me about an hour and a half to finish because my process is mouthful, thoughts, ideas, work, sip of tea, mouthful, thoughts, thoughts, work, sip of tea, brain wave, mouthful...

One day, one of my colleagues turned to me with a look of bewildered puzzlement in his eyes and said "You have been eating that for an hour, and it still looks the same as when you started?". Of course, at the time, I didn't understand what he meant. I will, however, never forget the look on his face.

Yesterday, whilst making the beetroot salad, it hit me. I mentioned earlier that I stuffed a very lot of beetroot into the bowl to save on dishes. Imagine, as I was eating, all this beetroot I had stuffed into the container, and as I was removing each spoonful, it was lifting or expanding. Therefore, I had been eating and eating and eating, for ages and ages, and the bowl looked exactly the same as when I first took the lid off... full.

This explains the look of puzzlement on my colleague's face and his comment.

I also realised how perception without information can be confusing.

By understanding ourselves, we can gain a better idea of another person's perspective. Although only from our perspective.

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