![]() There are bound to be cookies there sooner or later. After all, your fingers go numb after a while and it doesn’t hurt as much. Some continue hoping and searching, trying different jars, while others abandon their search entirely, and some keep reaching into the same jar over and over. Why is it filled with these traps? Why has my jar changed?Įach person seeks their own unique solution to this newfound pain. We question our jar, wondering what’s wrong with it. Maybe we found plenty of cookies in the beginning, but increasingly find traps. Still, what are the odds, right, so we try again and find another trap, and another. We find that some jars don’t even contain cookies for us, but loaded mouse traps that spring on our fingers causing us great pain. In our desperation, maybe we try harder, thinking that maybe we’re just not giving it enough time. We question if the cookies are even worth it, or what the point of it is, and we sometimes we begin to believe that we’ll never find what they’ve found. ![]() We crave the joy they’re experiencing and wonder why we aren’t receiving the same thing. Still we look upon the other people in the world eating what appears to be their perfect cookie from their perfect jar and we long to feel the same way they do. “I like this kind of cookie.” “I don’t like that kind of cookie.” “Blue glasses vases have the best cookies.” “Wooden bowls aren’t worth it.” All manner of preconceived notions begin to affect our judgment. Maybe we don’t, and we continue the search. Maybe we like those cookies and stop for a while. Sometimes we pick and choose, waiting for what seems like the perfect jar, and sometimes we sample one at random. We look at these people happily enjoying their cookies and their jars and we say “That looks great, I want to try that!” So we go looking for a jar of our own. Sure, some may be similar, but they’re never the same. Likewise, each jar contains a unique kind of cookie only found within it. Some of them are beautiful ornate vases, while others are simply wooden bowls, but each one is as unique as the person eating from it. It’s like, we look around and see everyone else, each with their own unique cookie jar. I’m also posting it now before I change my mind. Right, so I need space to try and process and flesh out this fever dream.
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