Perfection Exists - At Least it Did for a Moment

An unexpected encounter with a cookie, in Fairview, Alberta

I have anxiety. I know. Who doesn’t?

Mine has manifested in several ways over the years, from obsessing over end-of-the-world dystopic scenes unfolding in real time, to being very near certain I have a horrible undiagnosed disease, to standing in an ice-cream parlour with multiple flavours to choose from.

That’s right. Anxiety can even make getting ice cream a lot less fun than it’s supposed to be.

In fact, food is a huge source of anxiety for many, many people, largely because we are constantly being bombarded with “why this is so bad for you, or the planet” messaging, right alongside simultaneous ads for the very same thing, that tell us to go for it, and to savour it. But even without the bad-for-you-good-for-you conflict, the fact that there are multiple options at times means I always wonder if I should have maybe picked something else.

Well, I just want you to know that today, at around 3:30 pm, I had what I believe to be the best cookie I have ever had in my whole life, and though I can guarantee you that it was in no way good for my health - when I bit into it, I felt, in a way I’m not sure I have ever felt before, that I had just made an unmistakably good choice. The perfection of this cookie overrode all questioning.

I don’t know if you’re understanding how big of a deal that is. For me to think a choice is unmistakably good is a very rare event. So rare, in fact, I can’t even think of a single other example off the top of my head.

I have a self-questioning mode that never really turns off. It’s not necessarily regret. It’s more of an oscillation that weighs the pros and cons of things in the lead up to the decision, and then continues to weigh after the decision. “Should I do this? Shouldn’t I do this?” – turns into, “Should I have done this? Should I have not done this?”

It’s ridiculous and somewhat draining, but it’s the way I am. At least you can be sure I’m never flippant about anything.

But today, with time to “kill” before an evening gig, on a windy but warm day in northern Alberta, in a tiny town called Fairview, I stopped into a café called the Old Bistro, which had a limited selection of baked goods, and with uncharacteristic confidence I picked a cookie. Of all the baked goods, I was pretty damn sure that of all the options, it would best suit my fancy. It’s not that I knew it would be incredible. It was more of a process-of-elimination type of choice.

I had one errand yet to do, and then I drove back to the house I was staying in to have a rest and to change my outfit before heading to the show, and I reached over to the passenger side where the cookie lay almost secretively in a little white paper bag, and I took it in my fingers and brought it to my face and I took a bite while driving down a gravel road, the windows rolled down a bit, with a partially cloudy sky, and gorgeous canola fields on either side of me.

It was so, so, so, so incredibly delicious.

It was slightly warm and I couldn’t figure out why, perhaps the sun on the windshield was responsible. The cookie had sat in the passenger seat for about 20 minutes while I had run the errand.

I don’t know how to do the thing justice using words, but the bite I took was the stuff of fairytales. Buttery sweetness in a perfection of texture unlike anything I had ever experienced, it was so profoundly satiating I almost had to pull over, and though I made no sound, something washed over me that was not just the pure enjoyment of flavour and feel, whic h was heavenly. It was a satisfaction about the choice I had made, the timing of it and the location of it. I did something unequivocally right, on an otherwise anxious day. Everything in the universe merged into a glowingly perfect bite of a perfect cookie.

It was so utterly perfect it erased the inner-questioning part of my brain for longer than it’s ever been shut off. It felt otherworldly. It felt transcendental. It slowed down time.

I had a mind-blowing cookie.

I made a perfect choice.

A perfect choice.

I’ve never made a perfect choice before.

I probably have, but it has never felt cognitively perfect.

This was some kind of nirvana I didn’t even know was possible.

I don’t know if I should try to repeat it – to go back to the café tomorrow and get another one.

I don’t think I will.

It might be too much bliss.

It might profoundly disappoint.

Who knows what factors led to the perfection and if they can be repeated.

It didn’t even matter what I would do in relation to the event, later.

The moment of this cookie was a gift of inner peace and joy and appreciation so pure, I didn’t even know I was missing.

I don’t even know if this piece is comedic or serious.

I realise I probably sound ridiculous.

Sometimes you’re mildly-to-moderately freaking out about your weird and wacky and somewhat exhausting existence in a world that’s so damn grim, and you don’t even know that you might experience a sensation you’ve never experienced before.

I’m telling you. It was the perfect cookie.

If nothing else, it makes me believe that there may well be other peaks and heights of experience I don’t even know are possible, that might be awaiting me.

Maybe not. Maybe this was it. Maybe from here on it I’ll just talk about the time I had the perfect cookie and for a sweet, sacred and buttery moment in time, I didn’t question a damn thing

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