Good-bye Stoicism. Hello Epicureanism...
Epicurus was one of the big boys of Ancient Greek philosophical thought. He believed that ‘moderate hedonism’ was the best way to live.
Unfortunately (or perhaps as a matter of course), some of his followers chose to interpret his live in the moment, enjoy life to the fullest philosophy as a license to INDULGE.
How convenient.
(Give me a bottle of good cognac, throw some fresh oysters my way and let me tell you a thing or two about life).
But you can’t really blame them. I can see how using a good solid philosophy like Epicureanism as a hallmark can give one (ahem) permission to live life to the fullest - especially when it lies in a belief system that promotes ‘the moderation of desires and the cultivation of friendship’.
In other words: “Be nice to each other. Enjoy. We’re here for a good time, not a long time”.
Who is going to argue with THAT?
Enter Lunch at the Inferno and my new Epicurean friend, SCAR. (With two names like that, I should have known it was going to be one hell of an experience).
Now, I had a pretty good idea from what my AP told me, that lunch would be a long and indulgent affair. Nobody can say, “Can you spare a few hours for lunch with Scar?” without also implying because this is going to be an exercise in learning how to let someone else spoil you for a change.
And spoil us he did.
And the feeling started even before we had ordered any food.
While other people were sitting politely at their tables sitting across from each other in standard fashion, we chose to sit in a semi-circle at a square table. This way, we could each face the sun, enjoy what few days of summer remained, but also nestle in closer proximity to each other for story sharing and food dispensing.
We didn’t care if we were different than our more conservative bistro patron counterparts. Let ‘em look. Let ‘em talk. frak' em!
Because we were there to embrace the DIVINE.
We were going to enjoy this day to its fullest and if that meant we had to see-saw back and forth to nibble at our food in order to avoid sharp corners AND better enjoy the warm sunshine, well then hell. Isn’t that what life is all about anyway?
It didn’t take long for my composure to change.
By the time we had finished our second bottle of good wine, all I wanted to do was take my hair out of that stupid ponytail I thought made me look more ‘sex-in-the-city’, shake free my locks, throw my head back and laugh - HA HA HA! - at all the plebeians in the world who had NO idea what they were missing.
Maybe it was the savoury appetizer of mussels. Or the freshly baked focaccio bread cut in cubes that we dipped into the sauce.
Maybe it was the two (or was it three?) orders of fresh oysters flown in the day before that Scar drenched in lemon juice and doled out to us, careful not to spill any juice. Or the thin slice of I-can’t-remember-what-kind-of-expensive cheese we ate to wash it down.
Maybe it was the vertical food entrees of scallops and shrimp, the light salad topped with wild Alaska salmon or maybe it was simply that 3rd bottle of expensive wine?
Perhaps I will never know what defining moment tipped me from conservative, stoic nerd to a reformed and better version of myself with a whole new appreciation for the God Dionysus and his crew of hedonists.
But then again, maybe I do.
It wasn’t the food, (though it was amazing). It wasn’t the wine (though I had my share). It wasn’t the decadent chocolate desserts (though I’ve never had better) chased with an aperitif (or two - I don’t remember).
Nor was it the Cuban cigar that finally got us thrown out (after five hours of remembering what it was like to be human if only we allowed ourselves to honour that part within that utilizes all of our senses to truly enjoy life once in a while).
No. It was the WAY we did it. It was the way Scar did it.
Not only did he insist that we “order whatever we want”, but when the food came, he would carefully and very lovingly dole out portions on small plates, spoons, forks, and hand them over bite by bite (always serving himself last) until we felt so well taken care of, all that was missing was a lounger, two Egyptians waving palm leaves over our heads and a batch of grapes hanging from the rafters.
And if we had asked for it, we would have gotten that too.
I have never in my entire life, felt so nurtured or spoiled.
But the best part is that it was all genuine, it was done unconditionally (because as he said, “life is suppose to be feel like that once in a while”), and it was supported by a warm sharing of stories, compliments that were genuinely felt and given, musings about the meaning of life, and a reminder that ‘all work and no play makes us all dull boys and girls’.
So when the manager (with the carefully plucked eyebrows and high strung energy) came to our table a second time (after first giving us permission to smoke a Cuban cigar on the patio which he shortly thereafter recanted), asked us to leave “because the tables are filling up and I asked you to put that out five minutes ago!” I was slightly annoyed (having been stirred from my resting place with the Gods n’ all that).
“WHO IS THIS PLEBEIAN?” I thought, “OFF WITH THIS HEAD!”
But he was obviously intent on a pissing contest with Scar who replied:
“You can’t be serious” As he looked around at the mostly empty patio, “I just paid almost five hundred dollars for lunch and you’re asking us to leave?”
My AP in her usual dignified self turned to Scar and said, “Don’t worry about it. We were just about to go anyway” and promptly put out the cigar on an empty dish.
Well, you would have thought she had just thrown a pie in the manager’s face.
“What are you - ? What the - ? How disrespectful!? WOULD YOU DO THAT AT HOME???” he cried, turning so red I thought he had just eaten a habanero pepper.
Very calmly and with the utmost class my AP replied:
“As a matter of fact I would.”
I turned to her, proud to be her friend. Then I turned to look at him. I leaned forward, tilted my chin up just enough to show a sparkle of defiance and very proudly stated:
“So would I!”
“Well I NEVER!!!” he replied without so much as a decent comeback.
We took one more bite of desert, swigged the rest of our cognac, gathered up our belongings and headed out with our dignity intact.
Nothing could ruffle our feathers.
We had just spent five hours enjoying each other’s company, living each moment to its fullest in the fresh air and sunshine, with the greatest appreciation of life and each other possible.
We had enjoyed every bite, every sip, every smile, every joke and every compliment to its fullest. And no tightly wound, sex-deprived, power-hungry, dissatisfied regulite was going to rain on our parade.
Scar had been kind and generous to the waitress. He had been nurturing, indulgent, and gentlemanly towards us.
There was not a single thing that we did or said that warranted the reaction we received from the manager, except that perhaps we had enjoyed ourselves too much in the presence of someone who had somewhere along the way, forgotten the meaning of life - to be kind to other human beings and just relax.
Life is over much too fast to get your panties all in a twist for nothing.
And the ability to recognize that life is a gift is a gift in itself.
Once in a while it is your duty to honour yourself by allowing others to spoil you. When you learn to receive, giving of yourself, also becomes easier. Scar showed me through his deeds what it felt like (perhaps for the first time) to have someone to do that for me.
So it wasn’t the lunch. It was never the lunch.
It was the feeling.
By nine o’clock, my carriage had turned into a pumpkin, my dress was back where it belonged on a hangar in the closet and I was once again that nerdy girl, trying to make her own dreams come true.
As usual, I was contemplating my writing schedule for the next day and wondering how I was going to manage also doing my errands when I had so much yet to accomplish.
But something was different.
When I climbed into bed that night, I had to ask myself: given the chance, could I do this every day?
Instantly, I knew the answer was no. I was far too steeped in Stoicism to live a life of leisure.
But the light of Epicureanism was lit and the bar was raised.
On one hot summer afternoon, I learned that it was okay to feel spoiled.
On one hot summer afternoon, I felt worthy enough to allow someone to be kind beyond any logical reason whatsoever except that they wanted to be.
On one hot summer afternoon, I became allergic to not being appreciated, simply because one man saw fit to show me that I was, (and told me so) without any expectation whatsoever in return.
And for that, I am truly blessed.
Amen.
