“The Cucumbers of Oakland”
For the past few months I’ve been volunteering at a literacy center in New York. I’ve been doing literacy work since college. Normally the work is focused on the, well, ABC’s of the English language, but a recent student of mine from South Korea and I have developed an unusual dialogue given the parameters of our relationship. We’ve been talking a lot about happiness, and our respective pursuits of the elusive beast.
During our time together yesterday we listed a few of the reasons we believed people were constantly unhappy. I can report no great findings, the usual suspects showed up – false expectations, insincerity towards others, inaction – but the discussion took a bizarre and wonderful turn towards the end.
“So,” I asked, “how should we be in order to be happy?”
My student paused, tilted his head and answered, “Like a cucumber.”
“A cucumber? Do you mean ‘cool as a cucumber.’”
“I don’t know this,” he said, “but, yes, like a cucumber.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“Just… like a cucumber.”
Suddenly face to face with an inadvertent koan, I searched for meaning, anything to make sense of it. But nothing came.
Our time ended and I had to head off for a costume fitting, so we shook hands, and bowed, as has become our habit, and parted ways.
As I walked along 5th Avenue I thought of Gertrude Stein’s famous quip about Oakland, “There’s no there there.” I’d first heard it as a young boy and only understood it when I stopped trying to understand it. It’s part of the more philosophy in heaven and earth that Shakespeare mentioned.
And so, I reasoned, is the cucumber. Best not to try to understand. It will become much clearer that way.
For the Mineralava Musings, cucumber.
Huh.